I think the lack of funds bothers me the most. Mogri is the "senior partner" in our little clan, meaning he gets 60 of the profits. I, being the humble sage that stays behind a wall and nukes things with magic, get a princely 40. That's after we've done things like buying supplies and paying Kara, Zahn, and Ninji their salaries.
But I digress. You'll find I do that alot more than our little bunny beauty, Kara. I'm old, I tend to do that. But as I was saying, Mogri had a fit. He went right to the bartender and asked about a mission, making sure to announce as embarrassing loud as possible that we had no money at all and would take anything anyone offered. Anything at all.
That boy needs to learn about the subtle art of negotiation, particularly the part about not making us look desperate.
So this shady fellow comes up. You all know the type. Dark cloak, face shrouded in shadows, the kinda thing out of a cheesy fan-story written by a guy that has no idea what he's doing. Tall, dark and fugly just oozed with cliché, talking about a client who didn't want to be known and how the mission had to remain secret to anyone outside our clan and how we'd be abandoned if captured and yadda-yadda-yadda. It was almost too funny. He also promised lots of cash, so naturally he can dress and act as he damn well pleases and I'll praise him for it. Well, not praise, but I won't make fun of him. Okay, maybe a little.
... Okay, the guy was looked like a jackass and no amount of money will make me take him seriously or prevent me from giggling openly anytime he starts talking like one of those wackos that think there's a Judge Conspiracy. Happy?
So our shadowy stranger takes Mogri and me to a private room at the inn he was staying at. We left the peanut gallery at the pub, as they're hired help, not official decision makers for the clan. And Mr. Cloaked gave us the stupidest mission I'd ever heard of.
The bastard wanted sewer ooze. I really wish I was joking.
This jackass came to us, acted like he was going to ask us to kill Babus Swain or something, promised us something worthwhile, and then told us it was our job to go mucking around in a smelly pit under a heavily populated city looking for oozy crap-pudding. And not just ANY crap-pudding, oh no, it was special. He was very specific about what could and could not be in the stuff, how sticky it had to be, and all sorts of other details that made me absolutely ill. No way in hell we'd do this. Then he told us that the pay was 50,000 gil up front and promised that his client would have more missions for us.
For 50,000 gil, I'd eat the crap-pudding and ask for seconds.
We now have 4 days to search the sewers of Sprohm for a funky bit of ooze. We've already chowed down for the night, and bought what have better be some damn good water-tight boots. The rest of the crew are already sleeping, resting up for tomorrow, which cannot possibly be a pleasant day. At all, ever. I hope this journal thing doesn't get mucked up.
See you in the sewers.
Malak