PCs: Masq Timor, Minus the Bear

Here in the Bastion District, the people are rich, the shopping is fine, and the office of Masq Timor can be found. Relatively unassuming, paneled in rare white woods from the depths of the Northeastern forest, it smells fresh and feels cool, even in the midst of the stink of Nexus that pervades even here.

The first floor is filled with scribes at desks, dealing with clients of various social strata. A few armed men, spears held casually, joke with one another. A darkhaired woman briskly moves between the desks, looking over shoulders without making comment, making the scribes sweat a little more.

It is to here that people come with problems. Material problems, or problems that powerful friends can sometimes see to getting fixed. Problems that otherwise seems somewhat intractable.

Minus the Bear arrives unarmored, without ceremony, without excess. When your intentions are as sharp as his are, it's best not to come with a flashy image - better to be discreet, and quiet. Garbed in the mantle of the Anathema-to-None Attitude, he jokes casually about the ruling classes with the guards.

The guards laugh along, warming rapidly to Minus as he waits for a good fifteen minutes. Finally, the dark haired woman approaches. "Sir? Timor will see you now," he says, waiting for you to rise and follow her up the stairs.

Masq's office is still basically unchanged. His hulking bodyguard still stands at attention, and a new map of the Scavanger Lands, with crystal and jade figures marking various holdings, sits to one corner. Masq smiles at you as you come in. "Good evening," he offers, gesturing towards a chair. "Can I offer you any refreshments?"

Minus shakes his head politely as he sists in his host's office. "Your generosity is unparalelled, but I must respectfully decline with a thousand apologies," he says. He rests back against the chair, one elbow cocked on an arm-rest to support a hand cradling his chin. "It has come to my attention that the Guild has been returning to the Sun Kingdom for trade and business."

Masq Timor nods, and smiles a little more broadly, leaning back in his chair. The dark haired woman slips back out down the stairs. "Indeed we have. In such troubled times, it can be a tragic thing when some of the more obscure corners of Creation are forced to go without the benefits of being so near to so much bounty. Are you a representative of the Sun Kingdom?"

The Eclipse shakes his head regretfully. "In no fashion am I a representative of anything or anyone but myself at this time, I fear. I merely wonder if the rumors are true - that the Guild is saturating the shadowed markets of the Sun Kingdom's few remaining redoubts with fiercely addictive tinctures of opiate.

Masq Timor blinks, giving Minus a startled look. "Why- no, I shouldn't think so. I mean, certainly Guild merchants carry opiates- medecine is in desperate need in the Sun Kingdom, and pain killers of all varieties should find a ready market. But- 'saturating'? I rather doubt that." He shakes his head slightly, frowning. "I know the Guild has a... reputation, to put it politely. But it's mostly overblown hyperbolea from jealous competitors. Especially the Realm, as if they were in a position to throw stones. No- we trade, and we drive hard bargins."

Minus the Bear smiles broadly. "Good. I am certain that what you say is true. After all, were it not true, I imagine many of the powers that be within and without the Sun Kingdom might have strenuous objection to such scandalous conduct as I described. You've been making quite a profit off the trade of plasmic underworld flora, yes?"

Masq Timor nods, slightly wary now, as if expecting a trap. "Indeed... I'm hopeful that the dried ghost flowers will prove to be a good seller, here in Nexus." Switching gears, he slides back into merchant mode, the wariness fading away. "Of course, if you're interested in purchasing an interest in a future caravan to the Sun Kingdom, I'm sure something could be arranged."

Minus the Bear rubs his chin. "Perhaps. I have been known to provide a courier service, via the azure chariot, but I warn you that it is vulnerable to countermagics." He rises to his feet. "I think I will invest my money - and attention - in to the Guild's activities in the Hundred Kingdoms. I will return at a later time, with silver."

Masq Timor ahs, and nods. "Excellent. Silver's certainly welcome, and a skill courier can be an invaluable service in staying atop the latest commerical devolpments."

Minus the Bear rises to go. "I believe that is all, unless you wish to call in my debt..."

Masq Timor smiles slightly at that, shaking his head. "No... although I would like a clarification, if you would. You said you /would/ pay within a season, yes? Can I hold on to this repayment for longer?" He gestures towards some files spread on his desk. "It's quite generous, and I'll need some time to consider how best to make use of them."

Minus the Bear says, "You can delay payment indefinitely without reducing it, certainly."

Masq Timor nods and smiles at that. "Most excellent. And I presume the prayers were to your satisfaction?"

Minus the Bear says, "Quite. I can only hope you'll pass on my generous payment to the workers."

Minus the Bear turns, glancing over his shoulder. "You will, won't you? You're a generous man. I can tell," he purrs.

Masq Timor nods slightly, smiling thinly. "Naturally. Those who tend the prayer wheels are well taken care of."

Minus the Bear 's smile vanishes. "Do tell."

Masq Timor blinks at the sudden loss of warmth. "Well... I mean, they're /slaves/. They're treated well, they get to eat twice a day. Good slaves are expensive, and it requires a certain... something different, somethign that makes them unsuited towards working billows or shoveling coke, to perform well in the prayer wheel houses."

Minus the Bear says, "A certain artistic flair, a certain deep-set reverence, a capacity for hope in a grim situation."

Minus the Bear says, "...Perhaps I was foolish to demand that so many pray to me. I start to feel obliged to answer."

Minus the Bear turns to go.

Masq Timor hesitates for a moment, then says, "Wait a moment-"

Minus the Bear pauses at the threshold of the stairs.

"What exactly," Masq asks, standing slowly, "did you mean by the last bit? About feeling obligated to answer?" There's a note of uncertainty in his voice.

For a long moment, there's no response. "I don't know. Not yet. I'll let you know when I do."

Masq Timor hmms, and reclaims his seat. "I see. Well. Good luck in your work. And I trust you wouldn't dream of doing anything rash. I have other clients who would be... most put out at anyone who interuptted their own prayers. They might also feel obligated to respond."

Minus the Bear turns away again. "Life is complicated that way."