A soft ring resonated through the tavern as the door opened, the top knocking against the small bells that sat just on top of the frame. It was a pleasant noise, airy and light and quite contrast to those who were inside. The customers gazes shifted towards the door, their voices hushing slightly as their eyes, filled with piercing suspicion considered the stranger who had just entered, no doubt uneasy by their sudden arrival. Their hands hovered lightly on top of the ruthless weapons that adorned their bodies, the implication that they would have no issue using them on their newest arrival resonating through the room. It would only be a few moments before their anxieties dissipated, eyes returning to where they had once been and hands making their way back to their beverages, at the realization their latest arrival was one of them. All it took was a slight glance at them and their general demeanour as they strode into the tavern. At least for today, those inside seemed safe.
Out of all the taverns in the village, this one was especially notorious, mainly due to those who frequented it. Average beings, human or not would avoid it, fearful of even associating with the lowlives who assembled there. Even knights, paladins even would steer clear of these establishments, well aware that any action against them would promptly end with their corpses being thrown into a ditch.
Despite this, it was only natural those inside would feel on edge every time that delicate bell rang throughout the tavern, knowing that serene noise could be the last they'd ever hear. It was no surprise that the majority of them had targets on their backs and bounties on their heads for those heinous crimes they had committed, for themselves or on the orders of those who paid them.
No greetings were sent the stranger's way, as none could identify who was at the door. The hood of their cloak had been thrown up, hiding the facial features of the stranger, as well as the armour that likely lay underneath. There was also a mask that has been slung over their face, completely halting any form of recognition. A few glances were sent the figures way before the tavern returned to normal. Their curiosity faded as soon as it had come, the mercenaries returning to their drinks and chats. Considering the nature of the jobs these mercenaries usually took, it wasn't very surprising that one would want to hide their identity.
The figures' gaze drifted from table to table. They seemed to be searching for a certain individual and thankfully for them, today's orders did not call for their death, though they would be involved in their latest job apparently. Now, came the first challenge, identifying who they were searching for. They had to be someone alone, no one would be bringing a friend to a meeting like this, as the job had stated. Already that cut down the possibilities by a large amount. There were only 3 tables with a sole individual at them. At one was a large man who was clearly drunk, no doubt attempting to drown whatever sorrows plagued him. That made two. The other was a dwarf and while her stature resembled that of a fighter, muscles built significantly, a glance at her grease-stained hands revealed her profession. A blacksmith.
That left one.
The last table, the one at the very back of the tavern, isolated and rather hidden from the rest had alone being, one that seemed to be keeping to themselves. By far they seemed the most likely to be who they were looking for. On the table in front of them, a piece of paper was on display. While it was difficult to decipher the words from this distance, the figure made enough out to realize it was likely matching to the job description that had brought them here. They were positive they had found the one they had been searching for.
Without a word, they would make their way to the table, taking a seat on the vacant chair across from the other. For a moment they simply sat, regarding the other in silence for a few moments, before they made their move. From their pocket, they revealed a folded piece of paper, the mirror image to the one across the table. The stranger would watch the other in silence, expecting them to make the first move.
The crumpled paper made it's way out of her pocket, resting itself on the table. The woman took a second to smooth it out, before presenting it to the other. As expected, it was matching to the one belonging to the other.
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