In the wee hours of the morning, a pair of individuals, garbed in deep red cloaks and clutching their transporters, appeared outside Cendadric's in Mist Harbor. As they adjusted to their new surroundings, the pair exchanged a glance, then headed inside. Cendadric paused in his examination of a bauble, a questioning look on his face.

"Something I can help you with?" he asked.

The larger of the two men stepped forward, tossing back the hood of his cloak and giving the pawnshop owner a wide, predatory grin.

"Good evening, Cendadric. My name is Penre, and I'm here to show my good friend around the place. You see, he's interesting in procuring ownership in one of the businesses in Mist Harbor, and I suggested that your shop might be a good fit."

"I... I beg your pardon? My shop?" Cendadric stammered.

"Indeed. You've built the reputation of the place quite nicely, and the location is ideal for his purposes," Penre replied.

Cendadric glanced between the two men, his face growing red with irritation.

"Now see here, you two. I'm not sure what you're on about, but this is my shop, and I have no interest in selling, at any price. So I will thank you to be on your way!"

Penre cocked his head slightly to one side, staring at the pawnbroker, then turned to his companion, an inquisitive look on his face. The third man tilted his head back slightly, revealing the lower half of his face beneath the hood of his robe. His jawline was elegant and the grin he wore was charming, if a little too toothy. When he spoke, his voice was a soothing, pleasant tenor, rich in tone, and his words were enunciated perfectly, full of warmth and charisma.

"Cendadric... The widow never forgave you for Zul Logoth. She cried for a week before she killed herself over that. The note she left called you out by name. Well... the name that you used at the time, in any case. That name had quite the history to it... the Vaalorian soldier... the halfling farmers... the alchemist's uncle... there are a great many people who would love to know where THAT man ended up, don't you think?"

As the man spoke, Cendadric's face drained of color and he had to clutch at the counter in front of him to hold his balance. When he managed to speak, his words came out strained and low.

"What is it you want, then? Is it money?"

The stranger's response was a rich, warm laugh that filled the room. Everything about the man's body language spoke of relaxed confidence.

"I'm fairly certain my friend here has already told you what it is that I want. I want this shop, Cendadric. I shall take over ownership of it, but never fear. I will not put you out on the street, or reveal your secrets. You will be free to run it as you have, and conduct all the regular business. I shall take only a pittance of the profits, and you shall hardly know I'm around," the stranger purred.

Cendadric's face scrunched up in confusion as the stranger spoke, and when he responded, his tone of voice belied his lack of understanding.

"Why would you do such a thing? What's in it for you?"

The stranger's toothy grin grew a few degrees wider, and Cendadric wilted under the man's silent regard. Penre stepped in then, with a half bow towards the stranger.

"Allow me. Cendadric, this man has his own reasons, which are frankly none of your concern. Your life will remain largely unchanged. You will still have your job, and will still go about your business. Whatever the new owner chooses to do is his own affair. There's nothing more to be said than that. The deal is implicit, and squarely on the table. You may accept, and go about your life, or you may decline, in which case we shall find out exactly how much this man knows about your past. What say you?"

Cendadric stared hard at Penre for a long moment, then turned his gaze to the still-smiling stranger. Cendadric's eyes softened, then closed as he bowed his head.

"I agree."

-GM Quilic
"I have a question... possibly two..."

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