En Route To Ribcage

[*Selebius]

Inside it is dark- there is not a single lightsource and while the entering mercenaries see in the dark the whole room is painted in black and white and greys.
There are even some places too dark for even the mercenaries' darkvision. Of course the devils have no problems, their senses able to pierce even magical darkness.
It is also eerily silent only a few whispered conversations can be heard as only the few devil blooded halfbloods having a need to talk aloud as the true Devils seem to prefer their telepathy.

The devils turn their heads as if following a silent command, many eyes fixing on the newcomers and for a moment Maed and Ganatog and their two mercs feel themselves being dissected by many probing eyes.
Then they return to their own businesses and the two Barbazu lead them to the bar.

"First drink is on us." The first says, his beard braided into a wicked, barbed hook while the other one pays for six mugs that contain a bubbling liquid of uncertain colour.

"What brings you to Ribcage?"

[*Krayt]

As the darkness enveloped them she glanced in all three directions til the last streak of light vanished as the door shut behind them. Gingerly she stepped forward as they were lead to the bar. Only briefly could her bewilderment be seen before her usual confidence returned to her.

She grasped her given mug with a firm steady grip. While she was curious about the surrounding and even more so the patrons her eyes did not divert from the person she was talking to. Wishing to project a strong impression. Not drinking immediately the fey'ri waited for her companions to drink first.

"Trade, that is the reason of our comming." She said sternly but with an courteous undercurrent.

Her initial tactic was to let the devils do the talking. Following the logic of other drunken races, they might yield some information if left to blether with a few leading words.

[*Selebius]

"Trade." The barbazu repeats, quaffs down his drink then waits for the mug to be refilled. "There are few things you cannot get here.... as long as you have the licenses and give the lord and his senators their fees and taxes. "

"... or if you are able to outsmart the fools or are powerful enough that they do not dare to mess with you." adds the other one, his beard unruly tangles or barbed, wirelike hair.

"What are you trading with? I see no caravan... no enchanted lockboxes or the like..."

[*Krayt]

"That we noted yes." She pretended to take a tiniest sip of the drink.

She places a set of coins on the counter then slides it closer to the bartender with three fingers, only her nails making contact with the metal to cover for their round.

"Ore amongst other things. Not a wise act to roll in a carvan only to have it confiscated."

[*Selebius]

The barkeep passes his hand over Maeds and the coins vanish with a tingle in the Fey'ris fingertips an he gestures at the mugs. The empty one is regilled somehow, the others start to glow faintly.
Then he turns to talk to other patrons- his forked tail, the legs that end in hooves and the horns above his handsome face mark him as a Falxugon. Maed will find the drink to be strong and bitter and probably somewhat poisonous.

"Then you are at the right place", Hookbeard says, taking another sip from his mug. "The master of this place knows many who are interested in wares but not in dealing with Ribcage's masters. There are...."

"You talk too much." A shadow falls from above, a large wasplike shape yet with disturbingly female features, gliding down from the high ceiling, antennalike horns protuding above a feral looking yet still somewhat humanoid face. She folds her wings and her abdomen pulsates as she speaks, dark chitinous armour covered with brighter stripes the exact colour impossible to determine with darkvision.

The barbazu shirk back, obviosly scared of the creature but now she turns to face Maed and Ganatog and her shape blurs and changes until she looks like a tall, tomboyish human female clad in dark, organic looking armour.

"This filth is correct though... if you want to buy or sell... Baator will hear your offer."

[*Mander]

He takes a swig of the liquid, trusting to his race's fortitude to keep the stuff down. He regards the obviously high ranking Baatezu calmly.

"We've come here to buy. We have need for a certain kind of ore...what were the specifics again, Mae?"

[*Krayt]

Her answer pend in her sealed mouth for a little to long.

"Mithal. Fine electrum nigh to this in hue." She placed a finger on her greenish gold scales covering much of her armour. "We also seek.. batorian green steel in greater volumes."

She did not know what ores was still missing. But deeming it to dangerous to state something that obviously had been smuggled in from outside she sought to be led to well conected ore merchant. Perhaps she didn't realize mithal was a not as common as her original home and age. Her electrum request was similary aimed to lead them to a professional with high skill, that level of green in electrum was hard to produce as the result most often led to bleached gold or a bronze like finish if copper was used. The green steel was mentioned with the thought that one who smuggles things out may also smuggle goods in.

[*Selebius]

Ganatog feels the fluid burn down through his throat, a numb warmth spreading from his stomech- but he does not feel any other effect. His underlings, embolded by their leader sip from their drinks as well but they take only a single sip before setting the mugs down again. Then they start to whisper to each other- each of them daring the other one to drink more.

The 'woman' leans against the bar, the other patrons keeping a respectful distance to her, the barman putting a small cup of a faint yellow green fluid down on the bar in front of her. She ignores the drink, listens to what Mead is saying, inspecting her fingernails with an almost bored expression.

When the Fey'ri has finished she thinks a bit, sips from her cup and she frowns, tossing the rest at the barkeep who is quick to apologize and retreat. Then she adresses Maed again.

"We do not trade ourselves but the master deals with information. He will know where you can find what you need- if you are able to meet his price."

[*Krayt]

Putting down her drink on the counter as the taste was as foreboding as ill pleasing. She unvoluntarily clucked her tongue as the taste lingered in her mouth.

"Where couldst he be found by one that wishes to see him but know him not?"

Turning her head slightly shooting a glance at Ganatog and their two companions as to ascertain that they wasn't about to drop dead from the sprits.

[*Selebius]

Her companions seem to be fine even if the two henchmen are somewhat drunk already- also they seem a bit slower, clumsier than usual.

The devil gestures to a door at the back of the room. "The master is busy right now but I can announce your presence to him. You can wait here- we also have rooms for mortals who might be in need of rest.

I cannot say when he will find time to see you but is should not take longer than a day."