Ralph
Orion stares at the entrance to the capitol. As he walks in he looks around for the nearest pub, when Orion finds it he enters and takes a seat directly at the bar. He knocks on the counter and asks for a drink, then turns around on his stool to watch the crowd, slowly taking sips from his mug. He unstraps his sword sheath and places it on the counter, it leaves a small puddle of blood, dripping from the small slit between his cross guard and the entrance to the sheath. The bartender gives Orion an odd look "Sorry bout that been guttin folks." He chuckles to himself before focusing on his still mostly full mug.
Vanessa
Orion,?
The Drunken Fist, Hexraxe

Coincidental or preordained by fate, - one may call it how they see fit in a perspective governed by the be holder's foundations - Orion stumbled upon the "Drunken Fist", a pub in Hexraxe that was notorious for being a meeting point for sellswords, hired blades, mercenaries, and all the similar professions that all ultimately sought over one thing: coin. Because of this, there weren't only the ones looking for work visiting the pub, but several employers that searched for the right person to indulge them or their masters in whatever service they required to be accomplished.

Someone was watching Orion. To the man with the bloodied weapon, lazy to clean it and keep it from the rusted stain of blood, that someone's name would be as meaningful as the weight of the coin in his purse. In this particular case, as the employer approached, he had the idea of grooming Orion into the ranks of something larger.

"My, my. What a mess you made of the counter." The man could be heard, sitting on the stool next to Orion. "You've been gutting folks, you say? Murder is an offense punishable by death in Ibethiel, did you know that?" He chuckled lightly, setting an odd mood for a possible conversation.
Ralph
Orion turns his head and looks at the man "Ye I gut people, and I am fully aware of the punishment but luckily for me death comes second to coin. And as for my blade I enjoy fermenting the smell of blood to my blade so whoever's unlucky enough to come across it can smell the previous prey." Orion gingerly sets his drink down before turning to the man. "My name's Orion and I have a real nasty habit of gutting men who deserve it." Orion smirks a sickly grin "Or those who do not.. Anyhow, you're obviously not here to talk about the weather. Who needs gutting?" Orion smiles at the man.
Vanessa
Orion,?
The Drunken Fist, Hexraxe

The man listened intently to Orion. He sketched a grin from ear to ear to show rotting teeth, some missing from their set. He quite liked what the sellsword said, and the sellsword looked quite like the kind his employers would like to have in their ranks.

"Hello, Orion. You can call me James." It wasn't his real name. Not that it mattered. "And your habit might be useful to the right people. New in town? You must be, else you wouldn't be with this lot here." He said and grinned, glancing over his shoulders now and again, seeing if he recognized any of the faces present. "I may have... A service. A job. A mark. Someone that needs to die. Would you like to hear more? Hear something like this?" The man went to his hip and cupped the pouch full of coins, lifting it up and throwing it into the air. When it landed on his palm, the jingling coins could be heard inside.
Ralph
Orion looks at the coin for a minute, thinking. "You wouldn't offer this amount of coin for some unruly runt, this looks dangerous. And luckily for you, I like dangerous." Orion smirks and laughs for a minute before slapping the bar counter "I'm in, but I have a few questions for you... James." Orion reaches into the small knapsack he has on his hip and pulls out a piece of paper.
"Write down who he is, where he is and what time you want him dead. And here" Orion points at the bottom of the paper "Tell me how brutal you want it to be." Orion slides the small sheet to James and leans back and crosses his arms.
Vanessa
James(?), Orion
The Drunken Fist, Hexraxe

"You're very bright and you're quite right." James said in a bit of a mock. He slid the hefty bag of coins back onto the side of his waist and looked at the paper on the counter. Poor James. He couldn't exactly read. He was a mathematician of a sort, but not all that great with words. Orion could see a grimace form in his employer's face. "No, no. I can't work like that. I will tell you and you will remember, yeah?"

The man drew closer to Orion. He wanted to share a secret or to whisper for the sake of whispering. Whichever worked. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the info. He was quite glad to give it away under the promise of having the mark killed for compensation. "Joseph- Vema-." He said low, in a mutter, and slow, without stutter. "But-... EHH, I don't really know *Where* He is. But if my sources are correct, he should be arriving soon in Hexraxe. There is an old estate deeper into the city that was once property of the Vema family." He nodded to himself. "Maybe he will return there."
Ralph
Orion drew closer to him as well, he looks James straight in the eye "I only need a few more pieces of information then I'll have your targets head." Orion does a full turn of the bar making sure nobody was suspicous. "How many guards should I expect and how painful you want his death." Orion grabs his blade, the blood that was slowly dripping on the counter turned into a small stream when he lifted his blade up. It spelt on the floor and quickly pooled "Oi I'm sorry bout that" Orion calls for the bar wench and pointed out the blood before switching to the other side of James
Vanessa
James(?), Orion
The Drunken Fist, Hexraxes

Orion wasn't stupid. At least he wasn't a blatant fool. He was blunt and nonchalant of his ways, which James thought typical and *Ironic*. He smiled at the hired blade and took another pouch out of his waist, on his right. It was smaller, still full.

"Here are some rounds or whatever you want to spend your coin in. The wenches are fine here too!" He winked his left eye at Orion, then at the wench cleaning and overhearing their conversation. James didn't simply look at her at a glance. He glared momentarily and reached his right hand up to his large beard rolling down from his chin. He stroked the beard, thoughtful and as a distraction for the prying eyes, hidden intent. The wench smirked at him. He didn't really threaten her. She was too knowing. So well knowing she knew how to pull a front and act oblivious. She did try to clean harder and faster. She was quite good at wielding the mopstick. "There will probably be a few guards and, uhh, do what you like most! But yeah! I'll see you soon."

He talked through Orion's switching seats casually, no fret. James finished his drink, if he ever had one to begin with, and stood up from his stool. He disappeared into one corner or other of the Drunken Fist, only the gods knowing what he would do next.
Ralph
"Quite the queer man" Orion thought to himself. He flipped a coin onto the counter top and winked at the Wench before leaving to begin his quest to the manor.

Orion
Vema family Estate

Orion crouches behind some bushes watching the estate quietly. He sips from his canteen before sliding it back into his pouch and leaning up against a tree then pulls out a book on knighthood. Orion reads the book before falling into a light slumber thinking about the odd man in the bar and his life choices which ultimately lead back to soundless static echoing in his scarred brain.
Vanessa
The Vema Estate

Left abandoned for at least twenty years, the old residence was conquered by overgrowth on the outside. There were large and coiled vines around corners and windows. It was a house of rather simple design, a manor short of beauty in the eye of nobility of artistic eye- or the idea of the artistic eye. Flawed.

It didn't matter.

Joseph Vema had other aspirations. Which aspirations were those? It was rather unclear, murky water on black iron bucket. Or was it a helmet? It had a strange sigil nonetheless. But was it real? Not on the surface.

The estate was seemingly empty. There were no guards posted outside the walls, and the gate was closed, sealed with chain. The property was lush with chaotic growth of vines and trees and bushes alike.
Ralph
Orion stares at the chained gate. "Fuck." He decides to walk around the perimeter and see if there was any weak points and or places to put a rope. He finds a good enough spot and throws the hook connected to the rope over the wall hoping to get it stuck in a crack so he can climb over. *Cling* It hooks into the wall. He yanks it to make sure it won't slip and makes his ascension behind the estate walls.