|The Ledgerdemain was quiet for now, and Malcotin relaxed. Contemplating his efforts with Sunwalker, he sipped the brandy, and lit his pipe, filling the room with fragrant pipe smoke.|
He observed the troll go upstairs and subsequently return following a blood elf who seemed rather full of himself. As if an elf needed a troll to introduce him! Malcotin felt his hackles raise as he surveyed the snooty elf. He was not about to shake hands and was relieved the elf did not seem to expect it. He grunted in reply, sitting back as he observed the troll go off to get drinks.
Finally after a few puffs on his pipe, Malcotin growled. “I am not sure how you found me or what you know of me, but I am curious. What is it you are after, blood elf?” He was well aware that the Lounge was sometimes frequented by Silver Covenant types intent on keeping the city free from crime.
Not like crime did not happen, more that those who did shady things and managed to avoid getting caught at it, were more likely to get to know one another. Like the shady fight arranger. Malcotin was convinced the elf was paid to give lots of blood and action in his fights, and they still carried a slight disgust towards blood elves from the last war. It would not be surprising if he intentionally made sure that Sunwalker did not survive. If not for Malcotin’s interference, he was certain the elf would have perished. Now, he was certain the Sunwalkers hated him and would seek some sort of revenge. It made Malcotin wary.
|“After? I’m not after anything, my dear sir. I am but a humble … facilitator. I help to provide things to those that need them, without the inconvenience of unnecessary red tape.”|
“My resources and network of contacts are extensive. My fees, negotiable. I usually find it’s far more interesting to come to an agreement over an exchange of services, than to involve messy coin or bankers.” He screwed his face up a little at this last word, making his opinion of those particular members of society quite clear.
“I suppose, if pressed, I would have to say what I am after is to know what it is you need most, and whether you are prepared to meet my price.
Hence this meeting – a chance for you to avail yourself of my services. After all, everyone wants something they don’t currently have. You could say I specialize in obtaining it for them.”
Talthan grinned at him from across the table.
|“A facilitator? Interesting choice of words. I take it your sources are…questionable…at best.” Malcotin mused, tapping out his pipe into the ashtray. He took some time to glance around the room, noting there were few if any customers at the moment.|
“You mentioned an exchange of services. Perhaps we should start with listing my humble services available.” he gave the elf a slight grin. “I am currently working as an undertaker, as I did in life. This state of being I am in seems to fit the occupation well.”
Malcotin paused and considered a moment before continuing. “I am also a researcher into methods of…shall we say…raising the dead.” He gave the phrase a respectful tone, implying that he was including all manner of such, including battle resurection and other means of returning a being to life. Giving the elf a sideways glance, he smirked. Death knights had their own methods of raising the dead, and it was not always pretty. Ghouls and skeletal lackeys were pretty disgusting to most living folk.
Malcotin then turned to the barmaid who had made her way to the table. “Another brandy for me, and whatever this elf is drinking. Then arrange for a private meeting room. We have important business to discuss.” He turned to Talthan for confirmation.
“I shall tell you what I need, Mr Dawnspell. But only in private. I do not need more ears to hear my business.”
|“I assume you, sir, my sources are absolutely not questionable.” Talthan grins. “Because anyone questioning them is removed from the playing field.”|
He listens to Malcotin intently, showing a raised interest at the mention of necromantic activity, and ordering a red wine for himself.
Looking around the room he notes the patrons currently present, amongst them a rather absurdly-dressed gnome (admittedly, that could describe most of them, he thought), a gaudily-dressed goblin, and a tall man.
“Agreed. We shall remove ourselves to somewhere less public.”
The barmaid returns with their drinks, and gestures towards a veil-covered doorway at the back of the room. “Just through there, second room on the right.”
Talthan nods, and makes his way to their meeting room. “Zalaka, you may wait outside the door.”
The troll appears slightly put out by the instruction, but obeys without question.