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((Currently, the groups are:
Calim's group: Calim, Damien, Mordenkai, Rainee?

Daz's group: Sirin, Lilia, Darella, Kirrin, Hitomi?

Stats pending on a few characters, but in the meantime any character which has a history up in the Character Sheets section can start RPing, at least. Please contact me if any of these arrangements are completely unworkable, or if you won't be able to post about 1/day.

At this point, please make a note of any preparations you need to make, such as spells memorized.))

((Whoops, forgot to note that. Each member of Calim's group gets a set 1000 gp cash or a +1 weapon, as long as they don't break their contract; payment in the form of a weapon can be claimed in advance, as it'll help ensure the rest arrive safely. Sirin's group members each get 2000 gp, on the condition that their merchant and cargo arrive safe and undamaged.))

((undamaged eh?, Damien you did a fine job causing mayhem and destruction back at the Temple of Talona, (the way you handled those potion bottles was superb ) your job is to help the other guys mmkay? -Lin))

((Actually, he's on *your* crew. Y'know, the one with all the sharp and pointy objects?))

((Exactly that's why his job is to help the other guys -Lin))

((Minor clarifications:

Renamed "Sirin's group" to "Daz's group" to avoid confusion. Was originally named after Sirin as a point of convenience, but he's not in charge of the group. Daz the merchant is going with his caravan, and any orders will come from him, if needed. Sirin's "job interview" is a typical example of what the other members of the group would have gone through.

Calim *is* in charge of his group, and will be held accountable to his father should things go awry for his caravan.

Both groups are (or will be, in the case of Calim's crew, as soon as he's done with his conversation with them) seated at campfires, with tents and wagons forming a circle around the fire (the two groups are separate; each has its own campfire). It is currently early evening, and the groups are scheduled to leave the next night (travelling at night 'cause it gets hot in the desert, y'know?). Everyone on this adventure can be assumed to have had up to two weeks to prepare for purposes of shopping/crafting magical items/etc.))

((from chat))

Sirin sits in a dank looking bar in the heat of Memnon, his hand gripped around a glass of some brown liquid. His fingers tap against the bar as he looks over the counter top towards the barkeep, then glances back to his side at the people sitting around him, then to the bar room behind. "I hate working at night, know what I mean Mac?" he says, talking to himself.

A thin, nondescript man approaches Sirin. "Excuse me, sir, are you the one they call Sirin?"

Sirin glances back to his glass then takes the last shot of whatever the substance was, slamming the glass down onto the bartop. He throws a coin to the barkeep and stands, turning to look at the man that come up to him. "What if I was? Got some money for me?" he chuckles in a deep voice.

"My master has a business proposition you might be interested in, given as how you don't have a steady job." The man manages to sniff quietly, despite the fact that he's obviously no match for Sirin in combat.

"Hrmm, sorry if I don't believe you. We get a lot of ranting idiots in this part of town. May I ask how you could possibly prove this?" His right hand moves down towards a dagger sheathed at his waist, his eyes looking the man over.

The man shrugs. "If you want to remain a pauper, that is your concern. My master merely bade me to make the offer, that is all." He turns to leave.

"Hrmm, well, it is money. I haven't had much in awhile." Sirin catches up to the main, his hands now crossed over his chest as he steps in front of him. "Well, maybe I could do a little job. What exactly do I have to do, kill someone?" The man merely smirks and beckons Sirin to follow him as he steps out of the bar.

Many a time before have such things been used to get Sirin out into the street so he could be jumped by several waiting thugs; his fingers are close to his dagger should such a thing happen again as he follows the man out of the bar to wherever the stranger might lead him.

The man leads Sirin to the outskirts of town, where a cluster of tents and wagons has been set up in a circle around a campfire. He holds aside the flap to a particularly large tent and bids Sirin to enter.

Huffing and puffing, Sirin stops for a moment, his head down towards the ground, hands on his knees and his chest heaving. "Gah, I haven't had to walk so much before in my life. Why couldn't you get a horse or two, damnit?!" Standing up, he waddles into the tent, still breathing heavily. He murmurs something to the effect that he needs to work out more as he walks in.

Inside the tent is a number of strange and conflicting smells, probably a result of the many scented candles burning within on a small wooden table. A fat merchant is sitting on a cushion on the other side of the table. "Ah, Sirin, you must be. Welcome, you are."

"Thanks..." Sirin pauses to catch his breath. "So why did you ask me to come here? Money, I hope."

"Money," whispers the merchant, rubbing his fingers together. "Desire it, you do, yes? Deliver safely, the cargo all, and great the rewards, to be." He pushes a rolled-up parchment across the table.

"Cargo, what cargo?" Sirin looks down at the paper, then picks it up and starts to read it.

The parchment is a contract, guaranteeing 2000 gold pieces to the bearer upon the successful (a whole paragraph dedicated to the definition of successful, but in a nutshell, undamaged and still marketable) delivery of the merchant Daz and his cargo to the city of Calimport. It also contains provisions about obeying Daz's instructions while in his employ.

"Hrmm....looks good to me, but I never was one to nit-pick over money." Sirin puts the paper down. "What sort of help will I have? This is quite a large job for just me to handle."

Daz shrugs. "Many desire money, many to aid, yes? Outside, they are and to be."

"Hrmm, but is the caravan worth more than the 2000 gold you're paying us? It must if you can afford it. How do you know they are law abiding enough not to just jack the caravan themselves?"

Daz laughs, a low, breathy hiss. "Fool, you are? Why cover a worm in an egg of gold? Guards valuable, cargo valuable more, yes? However, where to go, in sandy sea?"

"Fool, in my line of business I make it a habit of stealing the hardest catch. As I am sure many others in this land do who are far more powerful than I. I wouldn't insult the people who are to guard the cargo." Sirin looks around the tent.

Daz laughs again. "Fool, to be seen, this one. A concord, we have?"

"I'm sure even you don't know enough about this 'sandy sea' and the things that live in it to make such a stupid assumption. I'll take your job; if I were you I would hire any Bob and Joe who would work for a coin." Sirin moves his hand back over to the paper, plucks it from the table, and stuffs it into his back pack before walking from the tent. Only a short ways out of the door he stops and looks around, then mutters to himself, "Stupid oaf, I should steal the stupid load just to show him a thing or two." Sirin walks over to one of the wagons and reaches to look inside, then notices the thin man standing behind him.

"Excuse me, sir, I wouldn't do that, as that would violate clause 5-F of your contract..."

"I see. Well, do I have the pleasure of looking forward to seeing you every day on our job?" Sirin pulls his hand down from the flap and looks at the man.

"Indeed, sir. We each have our contractual obligations, you understand."

Sirin realizes that although the man looks the same, there's something not-quite the same; it's as though it's a different person standing before him. "Hrmmm, this is starting to not look like it's worth the money." Sirin glances over the man once more and quirks a brow. "Did you change clothes or something?"

"No, sir."

"Well then, alrighty...." Sirin walked around the wagon and heads towards the camp fire, then turns back to the man. "Where do we sleep? And what about food, is there any food?"

The man bows. "Of course, sir. Such has already been arranged."