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Post by Chaldea-san on Jan 3, 2016 4:12:42 GMT
It's a new year and Chaldea needs to renegotiate it's funding.
Almost all world powers support the organization in some way, but they each contribute different things to the effort.
Because the higher-ups were deployed en-mass for this diplomatic effort, some of the Agents were sent as auxiliary security.
Money, Money, Money The need for it sometimes worries even magi. Although Chaldea's goal should be relevant to everyone, how many people know, and how many people care about it is not ideal. Luckily for Chaldea, the famous MedellĂn Cartel is, unknowingly to most, run by a long clan of entrepreneurial Magi. They understood the plight of Chaldea and supply them with both funds and other hard to get goods, such as stolen golden Budhas and whatever else an agent may need. Following your directive, you escorted a Chaldea Director to speak with the true head of the cartel and give him an update on the situation. You are not allowed inside the room, and you were ordered to roam the grounds until called back. The site is a large mansion, currently undergoing party of a luxury only criminal syndicates can provide. It seems the Chaldea representative feels like engaging in certain pleasures that wouldn't be seen kindly by the rest of the board, and would prefer if there were no witnesses
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Post by Francis Drake on Jan 25, 2016 5:34:50 GMT
Escorting the chosen agent of Chaldea had been a position currently given to Sir Francis Drake, a scoundrel, a rogue, a pirate, a privateer. There were many things one could call the great vice admiral of the British fleet. The captain who's only joy in life is the adventure and have as much fun as they can was probably chosen for the fact that they were a scoundrel in life, raided and pillage ships and towns of the Spanish...of course she would know such a region as Colombia, as well as the seedy underbelly of the criminal world. Who else was a better fit for such a mission ? None other than the servant who stunk of rum and was filled with joy! Dressed in what one could consider fairly normal clothing for the era. A black pants suit, with a maroon colored shirt underneath. plastered upon her face was a grin and in her hands were a half empty bottle of rum. Plantation, aged 20 years. " Tis a damn tough life full of toil and strife We whalermen undergo And we don't give a damn when the day is done How hard the winds did blow 'Cause we're homeward bound from the Arctic ground With a good ship, taut and free And we don't give a damn when we drink our rum With the girls of Old Maui" The quite busty woman, who could for all intents be considered a complete knockout...though one fault was on her appearance. A nasty scare going coast to coast from the top of her face to the bottom in a diagonal line, stitched up. It was as if one has plunged a knife through the Mona Lisa. She sang in between each clunk of the rum she took...and it seemed as if many of the criminals of the mansion had joined in! "Rolling down to Old Maui, me boys Rolling down to Old Maui We're homeward bound from the Arctic ground Rolling down to Old Maui"She continued the song after taking a clunk or two of rum. Currently sort of forgetting that her mission was to essentially be the escort and bodyguard of a certain young woman. However, she was simply enjoying her time with her alcohol and her new group of fellow party animals! This was after all her scene, her group of people. Being a criminal does not make you a bad person, not in the eyes of the King of storms! Rocking back and forth as she sang, standing on a table and stomping her right foot lightly on the wooden structure to keep up a decent beat to the sea shanty!
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