Kazaha had made his way to the weasel. At first he had gone to the back as the letter from the clan leader instructed, to get into the weasel den. However the only problem he had found there was a rather, unkind guard who refused to allow him in. Kazaha did have half the right mind to just shove him down the stairs, however he was here to try entering the clan not make war with them. Instead of turning away after the first try however Kazaha told the guard, to pass on a message to Mr Striker, politely asking him to meet Kazaha at the Bar by at least sometime between now and 7pm.

And so here Kazaha was still fully dressed in his armour, spear now resting against the wall, drinking a pint of beer. It was just an hour after sunset and all ready people were flocking in. He had told the barmen to point him out to anyone who ask, but alas no one had shown yet. Still it was almost enjoyable the atmosphere of the weasel. The chatter of patrons, the clank of beer mug’s and rumours, that payed the odd attention to. Alas the latest thing that had happened was two groups at war at each other by seeing which clan could drink the most. There clan name’s went something like the Red Wryms and WrymsBane. Either way Kazaha paid it no more attention of a Childs game and return to his mug of beer he clasped with his gauntlet while waiting.

Captain Zane Striker of the infamous DarkStriker Mercenary Clan was enjoying a quiet chat with a pretty young red head and a warm glass of some clear spirit, lounging upon a couch with an arm drapped lazily over the young woman against a wall of the Weasel's Den, the homebase of the DarkStrikers and Zane's personal bar, when the guard on duty above tapped him on the shoulder.

"Yes?" asked Zane annoyed at being disturbed. He had been gone from River City for some time recently on a mission and had looked forward to returning to some peace and quiet only a few days early. Yet already the Clan Entry Applications were coming in, his personal Clan Primer flashing and beeping at him near incessently since he had returned.

"Some snot-nosed brat in armour was asking 'bout ya boss" report the dim-witted guard, hired muscle, not even a real member of the Clan.

"When is there not someone talking about me above? I do keep my Den under thier very feet after all"

"Uh, he said that he had been invited" the guard had to think about Zane's comment, work out if he had been insulted or not before he continued, "But you's said you wasn't gonna see no ones"

Zane sighed. Seriously considering that the guard, who's name the mercenary couldn't seem to remember, might perhaps be part Ukoren, Zane untangled himself from the red head with a sincere apology and climbed to his feet.

"Very well, take me to the kid" Zane ordered.

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The guard led the mercenary Captain upstairs and into the courtyard outback of the the tavern and bordello known as the Promiscous Weasel, or just the Weasel to the locals, through the kitchens and into the noisy bar. Pointing out the armour young man, Zane set the guard back to his post.

Making his way through the crowd was easy, for as people noticed him they seemed to part before him, infact that's exactly what they did. There were few that wanted to get on the bad side of River City's mose infamous mercenary.

"I here your looking for me?" Zane asked the young man bluntly. He looked about mid twenties, perhaps younger, but Zane had long lost the ability to judge the age of the youth, his own three hundred plus years leaving himself looking nor more than thirty easy winters.

"Depends if your Zane Striker" Kazaha replied to the man who had just entered the room with a short smile. Judging by the way the room had parted for him, this was clearly the man he was after. Kazaha put down his mug of beer and bought out his clan primer. He had this particular one for over ten years now, so he knew how to use it well. He bought the message from the clan leader up, on the small screen. He had been through the process of joining a clan before and unless there was something different in the ale of River city, the clan leader would know that his moronic guard pointed him in the right direction.

"Aye" Zane nodded, "I'm Captain Zane Striker"

He pronouced the name Zan rather than the traditional Zain, his accent was also different to that of most Arcadians.

"And you'd be the kid that wants in the DarkStrikers correct?"

"Why yes, I suppose that would be me" Kazaha said with a semi-sarcastic tone, why still keeping his serious expression. The fact that he had just been called a kid didn't run Kazaha the right way, but he kept his cool either way.

"The name Kazaha Kiyazaki" Kazaha said why rolling his hand once round and did a quick nod with his head, as a sort of mini bow.

A pretty woman in her mid-twenties came over to the two men. She was dressed in a light blue dress with a frilly white apron over the top and carrying a tray with two mugs. She handed one to Zane who took it with a nod and a small smile, she placed the other on the table and left the men.

"Lovely girl that Gwen" commented Zane, he took a long draft of his ale, burped and placed it down on the table. The general noise of the tavern had picked up again as people had gone back to thier own business and now Zane turned to his.

"You want to join the DarkStrikers, you have to prove yourself" he explained to Kazaha

Kazaha finished off the the rest of his current mug, letting out a small ah as he put down his mug. He had thought this would be coming and he was all ears.

"I'm listening" Kazaha said eying the second mug for only a quick moment. Kazaha preferred not to drink while getting job details as to not offend the employer or in this case, the clan leader.

"The DarkStrikers isn't just another run of the mill thug club" Zane went on, "We only take the best"

Zane watched Kazaha eye of the ale and when he didn't take it Zane did.

"There's a small village to the north of the city" explained the mercenary captain, "Kelshi indians use it during the summer to trade and barter with merchants from the city. There's a special piece of magical crystal they gather out on the plains, they call it Magicite"

He paused to take another drink of his second ale and watched to see if Kazaha was getting it all.

"Goto the village and bring me back the magicite"

"Cya soon then" Kazaha said taking hes leave from the table, grabbing his belongings as he stood up. There was still another hour or daylight left and suited him just fine. He already had the information he needed, from all the rumours and his clan primer would no doubt patch up the loose end's for him. He had already payed for his drinks earlier, so grabbing his spear from the wall, he took his leave.