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This tale starts where most do; in a tavern. Upon several walls outside were notices, all for a 10,000 gold reward for any who would join the fight against something called the "Lightning Cult" or "The Spark" as it was known by its members, both former and current. Anyone interested could contact a feline who went by the name "Pendulum" in the Saddled Mare Tavern.

True to her word, Pen waited at the bar with a bottle of mead in front of her. It was late afternoon and she waited there for nearly five hours. "Hey, barkeep," she spoke softly, "Got any cream?"

"O' course I do, sweetheart," the man behind the bar replied. She paid for a bowl of cream with a bit of pocket change. She fidgeted with her claws with her eyes occasionally set on the entryway. At least one person taking her offer would be nice...

Artair entered the tavern, a large man, wearing a dark blue vest, with a steel chain mail t-shirt. He wore steel arm and shin guards. He had on leather shoulder pads, and finally wearing a kilt. He had a large claymore on his back. He had short dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. He scaned the room, picking out Pen. He walked over to her, not sitting just yet. "Hey, you Pendulum? The one offering 10,000 gold for help?" He asked, looking down at her

Pendulum's tail swung back and forth slowly. "Yes," she answered without looking Artair's way. "Are you the daring adventurer willing to help a rich damsel in distress?" A tinge of sarcasm rippled through those words as she said them. Her paw gently touched her chin.

"It is either the strong man or the stupid man who would try to go through with this quest," she spoke after only a moment of silence. "Which are you?" Why would he answer anything other than strong?

He shrugged, sitting on a stool beside her. "A little of both I guess, though I would call it more stubborn, rather then Dumb." He looked at the barkeep. "A mug of mead please!" He ordered, then looked back at her.

The faintest of smiles appeared on Pen's face the moment she heard his answer, only to vanish shortly thereafter. "Then if you want the job, you're hired." She unhooked one of the bigger pouches from her belt, containing possibly one of the heaviest things one could ever carry in a pouch of that size. "If you wish to sit here until closing time, you can count it. Your payment in full."

Artair shook his head. "I don't take money until the jobs done. Things can happen, so pay me when the job is done ok?" He said, taking the mug being passed to him, and taking a sip. "No offense of course." He finished his sentence, then took another swig of mead.

Pen perked her ears up. "Honest, too? If only my husband were like you," she said to him, finally looking into his eyes with a curiosity she didn't have before.

The pouch was clipped back onto that belt of hers. She finally noticed the bowl of cream in front of her face and began to drink as any cat would; lapping it up with their tongue. "I don't know if anyone else will take the job," she muttered. "People tend to see The Spark's name and run for their lives."

Then, for the sole purpose of exposition, she explained, "They are a group of S-Rank criminals that some of the most grizzled bounty hunters never want to touch. They steal, kill, and use powerful magic to get what they want and it is rare for them to care about what they have done. Even those who leave the group are considered fearsome people and must be approached with caution, according to some old farts who call themselves bounty hunters."

"And you want to take them on?" Artair asked, then taking another sip. "What you got against them so much?"

"To put it very simply," she replied, "Revenge... of a sort. For the life they took from me and other things. While it is true that extremely powerful people may be recruited into the Spark, it is also true that a child born to a parent within the Spark will be forcibly recruited and trained in the art of killing from a young age. My parents were members. You can put two and two together." Her voice shook ever so slightly. Maybe her stoic exterior started to bend.

"But there are plenty of reasons to want them dead," she continued with a downward stare toward her bowl. "The fact that most of them feel nothing as they crush innocent life in their hands should be enough."

Artair thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. "Well how does your 'husband' feel about all of this? Why is he not here helping you recruit people to fight?"

"My husband is a cheating lout," she spoke quietly with her eyes fixated on the bowl, "Who cares more about women and wine than helping his mate. He would hate that I am doing this."

Artair looked at her with a raised brow. "Why the hell you don't drop the life sucker then." He took another sip, "If I was in your position, I would've left the second he did something wrong like that."

A smile grew on her face, this time for more than a fleeting second. "He is one of my targets," she told him. "Near the top of the list; Garthenn, a powerful Blood Magician in the Spark." After those words, the smile vanished again. "You do not leave a Blood Magician and give him the chance to kill you. You kill them before they are able to think about it."

"Oh..." Artair said surprised. "Well I guess that works out just fine then..." He didn't say anything after that. He didn't know what else to say to her now. He looked at the bar keep "Another please!" After a bit. "so...when do we start exactly?"

Entering was a white-wrapped wanderer, head to toe. A hood swept the head, and white thief mask shrouded all below the golden, backlit eyes that browsed the establishment. The ivory was only interrupted by golden hawk talons clutching impressive rubies at each shoulder, but even the gryphon toes dangling from them where fair white. Golden gauntlets, also laid in red stones, were visible as the 5'8'' figure searched out a seat away from the primary conversation. A gold-pleated tail may have entered view with the sitting motion, while the metal clad arms laced over the back of a chair casually. For now, they would listen.

To Artair, the feline stated, "When you're ready. I only hope we can find more people along the way. I hardly think a duo, as good as you and I might be, will be enough to go against something like this." She pushed her bowl toward the edge of the bar and quickly scooted off the barstool.

The curved blade at the end of her tail swished along with the fluid motions of her tail swinging from side to side. "Again, whenever you're ready."

"If you speak of the bounty," she spoke up, "you may have one more." the metal-clad hand reached up to first strip the hood, and then the mask to about the shoulders. Cat ears were revealed, and a feathered face in golds and oranges hinted of sublayer striping. The face was largely human, with an unusual upturn of the nose and a pink-and-black nosepad below. The hair, brickred in root, evolved into an uncombed mess of gold. "Forgive me for coming late. What's the reason for the bounty? A short answer will do."

Artair turned his head when the woman spoke, he looked her over. She had to be tough walking around dressed like that...

The cat's tail stopped in its tracks. "Too many things to count," she said very quickly. The brown-spotted ear of hers twitched while the white one laid flat. "If I were to try to describe everything these people have done, I would be explaining beyond my grave. In short: murder, thievery, blackmail, torture, jaywalking... Just name a crime. One of them has done it."

"We'll be leaving soon. If you wish to join us, you are welcome."

"...heh. Most petty crimes not worth my time, but my old self finds crime in the murder and such is what I come here to reprise." it probably made no sense to them. Reaching to the belt of many satchels, a pieve of parchment and quill pen were withdrawn, etching a curious symbol of continuous lines creating a seven point sun, each marked in foreign astrological symbols and the headmost having an alien script within it. "Keep this. If you need aid in battle, magical advice or more, focus on this and speak of the diabloist, donoma. It works only during the day, or on moonless night. Hinoon or pitch midnight work best, so know when to call. I will likely answer quickly." standing, she delivered it to pendulum. "I am only moderately interested in the cash reward for my longevity. If i am not paid for this form of service, it is fine."