paixaorpg | Operation: Find a Headquarters [Completed]

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Operation: Find a Headquarters [Completed]

Character(s): Naja Salaheem, gypsy NPCs
Content: Naja tries to swindle herself a place to open business. Haha.
Setting: Carta Para Ti [E6]
Time: Late afternoon. The 'sun' is still up.
Warnings: Possible pissed-off kitten. Mood swings, ahoy!

She was a mithra with determination! Which was strange, because she could normally shaft others around her to be the determined ones for her... But this! No, this, no one would deter her from. It was a necessity. No great president could be president without a den!

It was out of the question!

So with a strong, but lazy stride, she entered into Carta Para Ti, expectations nowhere, really. But of all places in Paixao, she realized that this would be the most fitting of places for her to... hmmm... settle... Yes! ... and there'd be benefits too, of course! (and not just for Naja herself, that would be cruel, and she was only "cruel" per se to her little sentinels, how she needed new bait...)

Naja was a woman of business. Now it was time for her to get a division of her business started here in Paixao. Ahahahaha....

Salaheem's Sentinels!

She crossed her arms over her chest, her Morgenstern strapped to her side (she had to be respectable, after all~). She swayed side to side, almost looking carefree, but her eyes were sharp.

"Sooo... who's willing to talk to me about a little.... arrrrangement with this wonderful... mmm... place?"

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A stocky old gent with a twinkle in his eye and blond hair perked up and looked in Naja's direction. Hmm. Cat person, don't see many of those...

"And who might you be, young lady?" he asked, in a profoundly bass voice that boomed through the space between them. "And what sort of arrangement might you be interested in?"

Around the place, gypsies did gypsy things. Some sang, some played instruments, some danced, some hammered away at their workshops. It was a very industrious little place - or so it appeared on the surface.

Not many of those at all~

No, Naja was not purring. But how could someone like her not after being called a 'young lady' by such a fellow? Ah, how wonderful, wonderful... How very pleasing...

She sauntered forward, tail brushing side to side, an ear twitching every so often, a smile on her face. "My name is Naja Salaheem, prrresident of the Salaheem Sentinels in the empire of Aht Urhgan... obviously means I'm not frrrom around here, of course... I could hope that would not be a problem?" She tilted her head.

She gave a small shrug. How very nonchalant. "See, I need a small place to setup of office for me. A simple room would do. I'm looking to have a small division of my company in this city here... a company of people! Working to do... well... whatever I tell them," she chuckled a bit, then added, "or, of course, whatever your gathering of folk could need..."

She reached into her side pouch and pulled out a silvery coin, dented in some places, and a small symbol in the center. "I do of course have plenty of funds to make my presence worth while... though I assure you that I, and perrrhaps one or two others, would be the only ones staying here... if, of course, you'd accept..." Her eyes, too, twinkled brightly.

With a winning smile that was seventeen different kinds of well hidden dirt, the elderly gypsy patron - discernible by the silvering hair at his temples amongst the blond - made a gesture that was half-bow, half-this way. "If you would be so kind as to step into my office, we can discuss this business venture more openly. Eric, bring the '38 vintage and a couple of glasses? There's a good lad."

Presently, if Naja had followed his lead, they were in a large, lush room hung with bright tapestries and flowing silks. The gypsy king would lead her to a chair that was every bit as ornate as his own throne, carved of a rich, dark wood and set with gemstones and precious metals, and then take his own seat.

Steepling his fingers, he observed Naja for a few moments. Just before his gaze might have become uncomfortable, he smiled, that same slightly slippery smile as before. "The pleasure, Madame Salaheem, is mine. I am unfamiliar with this 'Aht Urhgan' of yours," he said, his accent putting a peculiar but not unpleasant slant on the unfamiliar name, "but perhaps you can fill in the gaps, as it were?"

A young gypsy - which was, in reality, one of the locals in gypsy clothing and with a different accent, despite being cut of the same cloth - brought in the requested bottle and expertly poured the two glasses. It was a curiously flavored beverage, as if someone had somehow managed to make gold liquid, blend it with honey and a rich, dark chocolate, and a lovely boquet of grapes. A truly refreshing drink - whose alcohol content was probably only slightly less than straight vodka.

(( Sorry on the delay. ))

The mithra slid into the seat with ease, nodding to the younger gypsy. "Talkin' my language," she hummed loosely upon watching her glass fill. She casually ran a finger around the rim, flickering her gaze to the man, and then back at the liquid within the glass. Oh, she was good at recognizing those that were, well, much like her. So though she may not look it (she wouldn't have been surprised if he could still tell), she was careful and calculating. Step wisely. The grounds here may break.

"Aht Urhgan is a currious place. Many traders, merchants. The capital, Al Zahbi, is always under attack though. I run a large portion of the city's mercenaries that handle much of the battles and protection of the place, as well as sending them out to the lands outside our gates, when the damn Immortals are slacking behind a cuppa tea. You got slackers here? Can be a troubling lot, let me tell you."

She finally tested the drink and oh how wonderful it was. She leaned back, resting an elbow on the armrest and laying her head against her hand. She smiled again, cat-like and lazed. "You'd be a most popular fella if you had this in Aht Urhgan. Wonderrrful."

"Tis a language I speak well," the gypsy said with a smile, before sipping at his own glass. He was indeed paying attention to her, and the kindred spirit he saw there brought a light to his eyes. This was going to be fun.

"We're a group of traders and merchants, ourselves," he noted, "and not all that bad at fighting either, though there is seldom any real need in this city. There are a few occasional... skirmishes, though. I think, however, that you will find our lot more relaxed than the traders you are accustomed to." Cupping the glass bowl of his goblet loosely in one hand, he settled back into the chair, With a wry smile, he raised that glass in salute to her before taking another sip. "We are renowned throughout the city for this drink; only we know the secrets of its brewing technique."

Resuming his lazy position, the gypsy king regarded Naja. "You seek a place for lodging and a location from which to operate your group. This, I can provide. However, there are two conditions. The first is that you deal with my people in complete honesty. The second is that no member of your group shall ever raise a hand in violence against the people of this city. This does not," he added with emphasis, "include the outworlders. You will find that the people of this city, while some may seem rude at times, are a rather peaceful folk. I would prefer they stay that way."

Naja rose a hand up to rub her chin. Her tail casually draped over the armrest, flickering up at its end every so often as she thought over his terms. Well, she was always honest with her sentinels. It was all in the contract, really. Some people just don't read the fine print. Or the print strangely sounding out of place.

But most of those people never read the contract at all and simply signed their name away.

She straightened her back and stretched the muscles out a bit, a small sway to her body. "I've learned over the time that I've been here that I have no trouble with the actual citizens of this city. If anyone happens to raise a mitt against the folk here, they'll be dealt with accordingly."

She rubbed her chin a bit more, carefully looking at the gypsy king. "As for the other condition, there shouldn't be much of a problem with that. These are trustworthy folk that I'd hire only, and they should deserve that same trust from me!" she seemed to believe this, a bit. She hated hiring people that disobeyed her. "'sides, everything else I've got written on paper." She patted one of her large pockets with a small smile. Thank god she kept her important things with her, just in case even Abquhbah suddenly became a slacker.

It could happen.

Gypsies were never known for being slack in the rules department. If this woman said she had a contract, and that she enforced its terms, he was inclined to believe her, at least to start with.

By now, their glasses were nearly empty, so he poured a second round, then stood to address Naja. "A toast, my dear, to a wonderful new partnership. May it be lucrative for all involved."

If she wasn't drunken into unconsciousness by the third glass, the gypsy king intended to show Naja around the place. If she was... well, they'd just have to work on her liquor tolerances, now wouldn't they?

Naja certainly wasn't unconscious, and if anything she was feeling much more relaxed and calmed. She rose her glass and toasted. "Indeed." Being a White Mage had some perks to it; she could keep her body rolling through even what he passed her way. Though eventually, much later, she would need a spot to pass out.

But oh, for now Naja could keep on her feet, leisurely sway and all.

Oooh, looks -and- power. I think I like this one, the gypsy king mused. Of course, that was more or less a foregone conclusion from the moment Naja had walked through the door. She was exotic, something one didn't see every day around here, and she would make a fine addition to his troupe.

Even if she thought it was working the other way around.

Taking up a cane that was purely for visual effect, he went to the door and led the way out of the posh office to set about showing her the extent of the empire she was now part of.

Who says that light doesn't have a darker side?

Naja wasn't at all sure how thing really were working out; who was pulling in who. Really, she wasn't sure if she would mind (or that could be the alcohol thinking such) however it played out. If it happened that she couldn't quite jumpstart the Paixao Division of her Sentinels... well... there was this very fine troupe...

She rose from her chair and followed after the other.

Everything has a darker side.

Needless to say, the headquarters of Paixao's gypsies were a sight to behold. Compared to the blonde and blue-eyed panoply of the city, they were a remarkably colorful lot, going about their business with a flare for the theatric and the dramatic. And nothing, absolutely -nothing- was ever as it seemed.

The whole tour took perhaps an hour, at the end of which he led her back to the office they had started in. Their glasses had been cleaned, and the bottle stood at the ready. With that same slippery smile, he poured two more full glasses for them, and held the second out to Naja. "A toast, to celebrate this union. May it smile on us both, and all those we command."

Naja was thankful to see the assortment of people; she wouldn't be blinded by the ocean of blondes at least. And she had quite a feeling that she would be immersing herself into this place, especially since she had been stealing frustrated peaks at her journal and the message board. Now she was keeping light steps around the moogle known as Montblanc. Very light.

By the time they did return to the office, she was in need of a drink. Several, probably. She wanted to pass out, and she was trying to put up a good I'm-not-pissed-off-at-Clan-Centurio impression. So Naja gratefully accepted the glass and raised it slightly. She commanded her tail and that seemed about it. Dammit. "Indeed," she smiled lightly, and downed some of the drink. Thank god for alcohol.

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Operation: Find a Headquarters [Completed]

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