Many Meetings.
This wasn't an ordinary warehouse after all...
In this back area, behind a locked, heavily reinforced door, the room is mostly clear, at least around the center. Said location is crowned with a large square wooden table with a dim lamp illuminating it from one corner. Crates and barrels are arranged as seats; there's also a low barrel next to the table cut horizontaly in half that contains quite a few rolled-up sheets of paper and parchment, apparently maps and several 'wanted' posters. Currently on the table is a tablecloth-sized map of the Mossflower Wood region, a short dagger pinning one corner to the table, next to which is a quillpen and a bottle of ink.
There are several stacked crates in the back; on the sides dozens of 'Wanted' posters are held in place by knives and daggers.
There don't seem to be any sleeping quarters, or doorways that could lead to such, but that's not the point-This isn't a dwelling place, it's a rally point, a bolthole.
Exits: [Front] Area
Darkwatcher paces back and forth around the table, agitated, uncertain, impatient.
The tall ferret enters quietly, but not so much so that she doesn’t make noise- her boots crunch, and her cloak sweeps behind her. She regards Darkwatcher's pacing silently, debating whether to comment, but she chooses not to. Lifting a paw as she melts out of the shadows, she flips back her hood.
Gildor is sitting languidly on the floor against the back wall. He seems to have brought his lab here, at least for a time, for he is swirling a small bottle in one paw and watching its watery substance intently before adding a few drops of amber liquid.
"Put that stuff away," Darkwatcher mutters to Gildor. "I'd rather not have my map disintegrate and melt the tabletop." He raises his voice as he sits down on a barrel. "There is...a problem.
Garolyn gives the cat a swift look before coming closer to the table. "Do tell." She unclasps her cloak and lets it fall from her shoulders, catching it and draping it over her paws. Her veil flutters out for a moment as she leans over the table.
Gildor raises his eyes and glares at Darkwatcher. "As you say." He corks both bottles moodily and tucks them into his pouch before raising an eyebrow and saying dryly. "A problem? Tell me something I don't know."
"The Chieftain of Ferravale was almost slain several days ago. Obviously the security of this village isn't tight enough. We cannot allow riffraff to assassinate the ruler here." Darkwatcher continues pacing, gauntleted paws folded behind him. "Why does this concern us, being mercenaries?" he asks rhetorically. "Because we /need/ Ferravale and Redwall to be the dominant forces in this region if we are to continue operating unmolested."
Garolyn raises an eyebrow. "Do not be cynical...cat. I am sure there are many things ye do not know." She thinks about Darkwatcher's words for a moment. "What do ye wish us to do?"
Gildor gives the ferret a rather sarcastic grin. "Please, call me Gildor. Not that I'll last long, but that's beside the point." He sighs and nods at Darkwatcher. "What the ferret said."
"Frankly, we should've been watching for such an action. We should've been ready. The fact that such beings are loose in the region, that they slipped through detection, is unacceptable, both on your part and my own. We should've been ready," he repeats.
Garolyn holds up a paw in a 'stop' gesture. "That is the past, Darkwatcher. Do not linger over it. What can we do /now/?" She turns her head slightly. "I'm Garoyln." She offers a smile, not that he would see it, but no matter.
Gildor offers Garolyn a stony expression. "Pleased to meet you. You must come to tea sometime." At this a flash of what could be called joy comes into his eyes, but it is quickly gone. If she would come to tea, he would break his first rule: No testing poisons on friends. He sighs and looks back at Darkwatcher. "This is a vermin village, we can't catch /every/ assassin that passes the gates."
Darkwatcher leans forward toward Garolyn, both paws on the table, his face inches away from the ferret's, and hisses, "Do not presume to tell me how to lead." His eyes flash. Then he returns to his normal posture, at a more general distance and in a more laidback tone, as before. "But well said. However--We can prevent it happening again. I'm not appointing you as bodyguards--And I know you can't catch them all, as our comrade Gildor states--But keep your eyes open. That's all."
Garolyn blinks. THe first thing through her head is :I wasnt telling you how to lead- consider it advice. But maybe she shouldnt say it. Opting to just let it drop, she shrugs. "Is that all?" She was expecting more...why meet with them if all he was going to say was 'keep your eyes open'? It isnt as if she wasnt doing that...and she certainly doesnt need a pep talk...
Gildor leans back and nods vaguely at the fox. "That won't be hard. How many beasts have joined us in our profession, anyway?" This question has been chewing at the back of his mind for quite a while.
"Joined the mercenary profession, or our little band here?" Darkwatcher asks with a laugh before he states, "I have other news."
Well, that doesnt sound good. Suddenly Garolyn is alittle more interested! She arches her back so she can lean her elbows on the table edge, waiting to hear the news.
Gildor shrugs, considering. "I would say both, but that would take too long. I mean our 'little band', as you so quaintly put it." The air he has about him is still a bit indifferent. He does not say anything to the 'other news', naturally expecting for Darkwatcher to just say.
"We have a new mission. An assassination. High-paying. Urban environment," Darkwatcher states.
"North of here. And no idiots for a client either. Competent. And /we're/ in the driver's seat."
Garolyn's eyebrows shoot up. She stands up straight, making her earrings clink together slightly. "Lovely." She breathes.
Gildor nods slowly, liking the sounds of this more and more. Maybe there will be prisoners involved....he smiles deliciously at the thought. "When do we start?" He asks, seeming to be more of his old self.
"Several days from now, at the least," Darkwatcher murmurs. "We need time to plan and get all our associates on board. Time for recon."
Garolyn wouldnt know the 'old' Gildor, but she certainly notices the change in attitude! Waving it to the back of her mind, she focuses on Darkwatcher's words. "I shall be ready."
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