Group role-play: Chyre's payment

Drosta | Czrel | Drosta | Czrel | Drosta

Note: Chyre's poem which sparked off these storyboards can be found here.

Drosta
Wanted: Chyre
You noticed a piece of parchment attached to a tree:

Wanted:

For robbing the vaults of our esteemed King Drosta lek Thun and blatantly bragging about this foul deed in song and rhyme, the Sendarian Merchant who goes by the name of Chyre.

Dead or alive makes no difference, however, if the subject is killed, proof of the act has to be delivered.

The reward for serving the great country of Gar og Nadrak will be: 250 bronze coins.

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Czrel
The sulky man sat slouched stop his uncouth throne, his yellow clothing, along with his pock marked face, spoke lowly of him.
'Who are you?' Drosta demanded from his seat, his head laid on his palm, his elbow rested on the chair arm. 'What business do you have in my palace?'
The wiry fur draped figure smiled and bowed with mock respect as the King of Nadraks would deserve. His fingers slipped upon his hood and then pushed it behind.
'I am Czrel, Master Merchant of Boktor,' the Drasnian reported with an air of confidence.
'Well,' Drosta sat up, his palms slamming on his throne's arm. 'If it isn't the slimy Merchants.'
'I wouldn't do that Your Majesty,' Czrel smirked. 'Your nation still needs us, but I am here today for a different matter.'
The yellow clothed King raised a curious eyebrow.
With a loud jingle, a leather bag of filled with coins fell on to the carpeted floor. 'Here are the bronze coins for Chyre, I heard that she is wanted for robbing your vaults.
'I added extra coins to ensure that you can forge better locks in future,' the Master Merchant added smugly. 'Keep 'em safe.'
As the infuriated Nadrak King jolted up from his throne, Czrel had already turned his back and left, laughing his way out.

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Drosta
Drosta stood up from the throne. He never did get used to sitting on it and he called for the guards to escort him to a riverside tavern where he would feel much more at home. Arriving at his private quarters, one of the guard's asked 'Should I send for your usual girls your majesty?' but Drosta shook his head in response. 'No, but I do need you to send a message to that servant of mine, in the palace, what's his name, oh no matter, you know who to go to.' 'Of course, your majesty' the guard said, bowing his head.
'First, have the lock on the treasure replaced. Even though it's only petty cash I keep in there, those ... Merchants... ' Drosta sneered saying the name 'are not to go in there.' The guard nodded as he wrote it down. Drosta appreciated the fact that he at least had one servant with the ability to read or write, which was probably a rarity in Gar og Nadrak.
'Also, let's leave out the keyhole. I'll discuss a means of entry with my architect.' Drosta sat down on the side of the bed and ordered another guard to fetch him some ale. 'Also, I want everyone to keep a close on those Merchants. I am aware that they are an insignificant presence and barely powerful enough to even threaten a Thull settlement but let's keep giving them that feeling of importance they seem to love having.' The guard smirked writing it down as the other guard entered the room and gave Drosta a tankard filled with foaming, reasonably cold ale. Drosta immediately took a sip and loosened his doublet and leather belt.
'Will there be anything else your Majesty?' the guard asked patiently.
'One last thing. That Chyre person. I want him arrested, and if that proves to be too much trouble, I want him killed. Forget proof, forget the reward. I want his corpse dumped in the nearest filthy sewers. ' Drosta paused for a moment 'No, wait, I have a better idea. Send out some of your more capable men and keep an eye out for any relations or friends. We'll figure out a way to make this really hurt.' The guard scribbled the last orders on the piece of paper, bowed deeply and rushed towards the
palace after sending two underaged girls upstairs. Arriving at the palace the guard quickly issued the appropriate orders and the plans were set into motion.
As the young girls entered the room, their faces red with fear and shame, Drosta started smiling again and forgot about the merchants. 'Come girls, come, you have nothing to fear.'

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Czrel
It rained outside as the Nadrak King had his fun. His loyal but somewhat dimwitted guards scurried along the mud filled streets and ran for cover.
The downpour pelted mercilessly on the Nadrak footmen. The head guard led the men across the filthy junction to a shelter where they can regroup before they take action.
'Gah!' the head guard suddenly choked. 'His Majesty will roll my head for this act of folly!' The rest of the guard platoon gasped in shock as he showed them the piece of paper filled with Drosta's instructions.
'The rain had smudged all the ink!' The soldiers exclaimed in unison. The head guard slouched his head and sighed deeply.

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Drosta
As the girls left the room a man who had been standing behind a curtain suddenly appeared in front of Drosta. 'Your majesty, shall I initiate the operations now then?' Drosta nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
The man pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and disappeared into the city.

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