A Fairly 'Simple' Task. Silver Court Trial.

[Willstar]

Aah, yes, the delicacy of a silent night. The smooth movement of the moon in perfect conjunction with the stars, creating the delicate dance which was known as night. In all, it was Carlin's absolute favourite time of the day, the time where he closed up the Silver Corner, the time where he could enjoy a quiet smoke in his little garden and feel the gentle breeze, bringing with it the salty tang of the sea, and the coolness of glorious darkness.

He was sitting there, a small wooden bench providing the needed support for his rather slim frame, smoking a thin roll-up, blowing dark blue circles of smoke into the air, smiling as he saw them fade into nothingness. He was dressed neatly in the evening, a fine outfit of deep blue and black, custom made, and tailored to fit perfectly. He had also managed to make some additions for his own, private needs, such as hidden pockets.

He was expecting company soon, and by Sigmar, he would enjoy their company. A quick glance at the note in his hands made him grin. It came from Falcia, and had a very simple message. "New Courtiers, make them feel welcome, try them, and let me know how they did by morning. And don't treat them like you did Rudger, Carlin."

Even in a simple note, the woman could show her vicious fangs, and boy, those things had a snap and a half to them to say the least. Carlin grinned again, showing perfectly even, white teeth, and then crushed the note. There was at least one thing he could do which she wouldn't find out about, and now that there were no more Courtiers in the Silver Corner, he could simply lock the door after the new guys had come up. Oh what fun! What fun indeed. I'll be nice, dearest Falcia, I'll even let them have a bite to eat before starting up our little... test...

He chuckled, and even that little sound of mirth brought with it the promise of many, many nasty things which, whilst not necessarily deadly, would prove to give you a really nasty rash in the morning at the very least.


(ooc: Well, you know what you're up for. Just come on over, and I'll eehm... show you what to do, yes. Make it look nice and shiny, yes?)

[GreyWarlord]

Outside the Silver Corner, the city streets were beginning to empty as night fell upon Marienburg. Most of these people would be going to their homes. The day was over for them, and they would spend their restful nights sleeping peacefully while dreaming of whatever it was that type of person dreamed about. Kurt did not know; he was not one of them.

To Kurt Hinterwaelder, night was the time to be truly awake. It opened up so many more possibilities, provided such an advantage to those who claimed it as their own. Kurt had lived in many places, from rioutous Hochsburg to the forested wilderness to the solitary riverboat that had taken him to the neutral territory of Marienburg where there was no price on his head. Kurt had had to adapt to many different environments, but there was always one which he could claim as his home no matter where he happened to be, and that was night.

He made good use of the concealing darkness as he studied the Silver Corner from an opposite alleyway. Slouching against the side and not making a motion ensured that to any casual passerby Kurt was invisible. The dark brown and green shades of his coat, hat and clothes ensured that he blended in with the darkened city better than any pure black shade would have allowed him to do. Attracting little notice was largely to be thanked for Kurt's present, living and breathing, state, and he found it a wonderful habit to keep up.

Kurt had just watched the last of the straggling taverngoers leave the Silver Corner as he continued his study of obvious entrances, exits and points of interest. A wanted man could never be too careful, even when not in the country of offense. Kurt had been instructed to come here after closing time if he was interested in joining the group known as the Silver Court, and he had to admit that despite a general distrust of people in general, competent allies would be a wonderful addition to his assets in this new territory.

Deciding that he had studied enough, and not wanting to delay too long, Kurt exited the alley and made his way across the street with long strides. An old man shuffling along the street started and gaped as Kurt seemed to emerge from the wall of the building he had been leaning against. Kurt turned his cold, green-eyed gaze upon the man to see whether he required any action to be taken, but the fellow had already disappeared down a side street. Shrugging, Kurt followed the path between the tavern and neighbouring building, emerging on the other side to a fenced garden.

Gardens amused Kurt, as did most interests of the well-to-do. It was as if they wanted to be surrounded by nature or some such poetic nonsense, but they had no idea. Kurt had lived a good portion of his life in the wilderness, and it was nothing like the tame gardens of city people. It also happened to be teeming with beastmen and other wonders of nature that noblemen and burghers never had to face up to.

This garden had a gate, but Kurt did not use it. It was a simple matter for him to go over the fence, and it made a good deal less noise. Stepping silently through the garden, Kurt made his way to the center where he was supposed to meet a representative of the Silver Court. Shortly, the tall plants gave way to a clear space. In that space was a wooden bench occupied by a slender and impeccably dressed fellow blowing smoke rings from a roll of tobacco. The man made no move to challenge Kurt's presence in the garden, and Kurt glanced around for any other people, finding none. Apparently this was the representative of the Court.

Kurt further approached the man on the bench, stopping just out of arm's reach. "A fine evening," he said as the cool night breeze picked up, bringing the sharp, clean smell of the sea to drive away the usual stench of Marienburg. "I am Kurt Hinterwaeldler."

[slight edit - Carlin does not smoke a pipe]
[more edits for grammatical errification]

[Arthas]

Johanas fixed his black cloak as a cool breeze blew by him. Up ahead he could see the Silver Corner, now devoid of activity. Good, he was still uncertain of this Silver Court, but as his dwindling coin purse could attest, he needed to do something. He was suppose to meet someone at this tavern, in the gardens, and now was the time to go. The large man once again tried to brush that one ever excaping strand of hair from his face into his hood, to no avail, and fixed his sword, conceled by his cloak. If this did not go well, he wanted to be ready.

His boots clicked lightly on the cobblestones as he reached the garden gate, and he checked it. Yep, it had been left unlatched, that was good, he really wasnt one for climing fences unless nessary. Opening the gate, he walked in, being sure to close it behind him, and walk through the garden. As he walked through the garden path, he took a deep breath, letting in out silently, it was a nice night. After reaching a large bush, he saw two figures, one sitting upon the bench, a slender man smoking, and a man standing just out of arms reach, more difficult to make out in the decending darkness of the night. The one standing says, "A fine evening," he said as the cool night breeze picked up, bringing sharp, clean smell of the sea to drive away the usual stench of Marienburg. "I am Kurt Hinterwaeldler." He steps forward pass the bush and nods, now within sight, but not reach of either man, "it is a fine evening indeed," he moved his hand up, pulling back his hood, once again attempting to move back that obstent strand of hair, still with no success, "I am Johanas Avire Montchet, which one of you have I come for a meeting with?" He smiled politely, and under his cloak moved his hand to his cloak. He had not expected two people, this was hopefully not a mistake...

[GreyWarlord]

Kurt turned to acknowledge the newcomer who approached from behind. The noise of the gate and the man's footsteps had clued Kurt in on his arrival, and he wanted to make it plain that he had been heard. Kurt did not say a word, but made it plain by his body language that he was not about to let the stranger remain behind him.

The newcomer wore a black cloak, which of course made him show up to Kurt's night-adjusted eyes. This identified the man as a novice in matters of stealth, as most people confused the colour black with natural darkness. "It is a fine evening indeed," the newcomer said as he pulled back his hood. "I am Johanas Avire Montchet, which one of you have I come for a meeting with?"

Kurt studied the fellow as a possible opponent and without a word turned back toward the man on the bench, again letting his actions speak for him. His back was not to Montchet, but he made sure the man knew he was disregarded as a threat. As Kurt saw the man reach under his cloak from the corner of his eye, he prepared to explode into motion if he had to. Someone who wore black for concealment in the night and hid a weapon like a sword under such a cloak probably would not have the subtlety to surprise Kurt, but he would be ready as he waited to see what the seated fellow had to say.

(Just for the record Arthas, none of that's personal; it's purely in-character evaluations Kurt makes about everyone he might have to fight; he's a wary man)

[Willstar]

So, there were two people readying themselves to grace his humble abode? Just fine by the standards of the people, who, in pretty much all aspects, consisted of Carlin and his baby brother, had he had a baby brother. "Well lads, it's good to see you've come on over to give me a hand on this here fine evening. Feel free to take off your damn boots before coming inside my house, and by gods I swear if anything is even slightly dirty before we leave again, you'll be cleaning it with your blood, and then with your sweat because blood stains, got it!?"

The two newcomers simply gaped at Carlin. Their younger by quite a few years, but having the mouth of an arrogant noble and the imagination of a constantly drunk artist did give him the advantage of, well, overpowering them quite easily, despite that he didn't have to remove his hands from his pockets.

He waved the two in, ensuring that his recently thought up rule of 'no shoes' was enforced, and brought the two to the main hall of his inn. He had made sure to keep his own shoes on, they made a nice soft clicking noise on the wooden floor.

He motioned for the two to sit down, grabbed a bottle and three glasses and sat down alongside them. "Well, Falcia has asked me to have a look at you two, and see what you're made of. Now, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. As far as you two are concerned, I am the law, the life, and if you believe in him, I am Sigmar reborn, learn to live with that fact."

He poured a generous amount of red wine in his own glass, but only gave the other two enough for a mouthful. He smiled as he swirled the liquid in his glass. "I can't have you two feeling these effects just yet. That would be poor taste, wouldn't it?" The two nodded, their faces not quite concealing the fact that they thought the boy was being rather rude and annoying, albeit probably not in those exact words.

"Well, your first task is quite simple. As you may know, I am a rogue, I blend in, I'm the guy who gets what needs getting, and who goes where needs going. I don't care which position you applied for, you'll go through a rogue's test, and one of those tests is 'blending in'. Go over into my kitchen and damn well cook, clean and do the damn dishes afterwards."

The two stared at him blankly, their glasses with the untouched alcohol clutched in their hands. One of two opened his mouth. "You want us... to cook?"

"I do believe my pronunciation can not have misguided your thoughts to otherwise, lad. Hop to it, everything is prepared. This is a test of blending in, and if you can't think on your feet and do the right thing and have a damn good skill set, you're in for a load of crap to dip your bootless feet in." He took another long, slow drink. "I trust that my sweet tone of trust and love hasn't led you to believe that I have just given you an assignment. I expect a meal fit for all three of us to be on the table in one hour. Please don't forget that the meal will be eaten, to the last crumb, and if I don't like my food, you'll be eating it. And once the food is gone, you'll be cleaning up everything. Try not to make a mess, the night may be young, but wasting time on cleaning isn't on the agenda. Hurry now."




(ooc: Well, as you can see, your first task is set up. Now, if you're sharp, you can see a nice little hole to exploit in this post. In fact, there's a few more. The first one who posts gets to choose the dish. One of the holes, naturally, is the allowance to try to get rid of the food, if it tastes disgusting, without Carlin noticing, and that's a lot more difficult that writing 'he threw away the horrible tasteless food without the young boy seeing', because Carlin is an excellent eyeballer, and he's got em both fixed on you.)

[GreyWarlord]

Kurt took a seat at the table as Carlin poured a rich-looking red wine into three glasses before giving one to him, one to Johanas and keeping the fullest one for himself. "I can't have you two feeling these effects just yet. That would be poor taste, wouldn't it?" Kurt frowned into his glass, swirling the thin beverage around in the glass before downing the small amount of liquid as he would a shot of real liquor in some tavern. It was not so potent.

"Well, your first task is quite simple. As you may know, I am a rogue, I blend in, I'm the guy who gets what needs getting, and who goes where needs going. I don't care which position you applied for, you'll go through a rogue's test, and one of those tests is 'blending in'." Kurt leaned forward a bit, eager to learn who his target was and leave the annoying company of his young host. "Go over into my kitchen and damn well cook, clean and do the damn dishes afterwards."

Kurt stared blankly at Carlin, his mind replaying what he thought he had just heard. Finally, he spoke up. "You want us...to cook?" The sum of Kurt's knowledge there was the cooking of animals and beans, and he had not imagined that to be his first test as a rogue in the Silver Court. The annoyingly talkative and unruffled youngling responded.

"I do believe my pronunciation can not have misguided your thoughts to otherwise, lad. Hop to it, everything is prepared. This is a test of blending in, and if you can't think on your feet and do the right thing and have a damn good skill set, you're in for a load of crap to dip your bootless feet in." He took another long, slow drink. "I trust that my sweet tone of trust and love hasn't led you to believe that I have just given you an assignment. I expect a meal fit for all three of us to be on the table in one hour. Please don't forget that the meal will be eaten, to the last crumb, and if I don't like my food, you'll be eating it. And once the food is gone, you'll be cleaning up everything. Try not to make a mess, the night may be young, but wasting time on cleaning isn't on the agenda. Hurry now."

Kurt looked at Johanas, who seemed just as bewildered as he must look. So bewildered, in fact, that they found themselves in the kitchen the next thing they knew, staring at the various implements of mealery to be found there. Kurt looked around, somewhat intimidated by all the modern inconveniences he had not had to worry about in the wilderness, and opened a random cabinet: to find a large sack full of beans. That was a good sign!

Hefting the heavy bag over to a clean-looking pot sitting over a fire, Kurt set it down next to the pot and looked for some water to pour in. "Can you take care of the meat or something?" Kurt asked. "There's probably some wurst or something laying around here that can be cooked easily."

[Arthas]

Johanas was no chef, but at least he had learned how to prepare some food while a squire. He looked about the kitchen, now what to cook. He saw Kurt, the other man, who seemed just as shocked by this odd task as he was and found a sack and set it by a pot near the fire. "Can you take care of the meat or something?" Kurt asked. "There's probably some wurst or something laying around here that can be cooked easily." Johanas nodded, "I'll look and see what we have."

He walked into the pantry and opened the way down to the cold cellar. Hrm, there was some meat on hooks he didn't recognize, could be good fried. Then he saw a case, and felt hope, he looked inside and smiled, sausages, always a good hardy meat. He went back to the kitchen, and saw Kurt had found some water and was working on what seemed to be beans, good that would go well with sausages. He grabbed a pan and walked back down, grabbing several of the fatter ones. He went back up and looked around, ahh good onions. He bagan to fry up the sausages and threw in some onion to add to the taste, and looked for some sauerkraut to go with them.

[GreyWarlord]

As Johanas began cooking some sausage and the pot of beans was cooking away, Kurt began looking around to see what else could be prepared with relative ease. He still could not believe he and his fellow trialee were expected to cook of all things. Kurt was going to continue with this trial for pride's sake, but he was not best pleased with the wine-sipping fellow watching from his chair.

Kurt knelt down behind the counter and opened the cabinet. "Sweet Sigmar," the Sudenlander whispered in pure gratitude to whatever god had had mercy on his plight. If any of the gods was responisible, though, it was no doubt Ranald the Trickster, and Kurt appreciated the favour.

There, nestled between salt, pepper, herbs and spices, were the instruments of Kurt's retaliation. Still crouched behind the counter, Kurt lifted the cluster of hot peppers from their resting place. Lustrian greens, he was certain. Fat, bright green and full of incredibly hot seeds and juice, these would most certainly offend the palate of their ungracious host. Kurt for one loved spicy food; peppers were one of the few things that could actually grow in the arid Sudenland climate, and he promptly palmed three of the peppers in a large hand while taking a handful of Estalian sharpgrass and rising to place the seasoning in the pot of beans.

Using simple sleight of hand common to any rogue worth his salt, Kurt concealed the falling peppers in a flourish as he visibly seasoned the beans with some of the sharpgrass. Reaching down again to the spice cabinet, Kurt took two handfuls of peppers concealed in two handfuls of Bretonnian redleaves and added them to the pot, carefully attempting to conceal the amount of peppers being deposited into the pot. Finally, the beans were nearing completion, and Kurt suppressed a malicious chuckle; he hoped his sleight of hand skills had kept his little surprise intact.