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by The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Tue Oct 06, 2015 2:38 pm
by Breitenfeld-Sibbesborg » Tue Oct 06, 2015 5:07 pm
The Vekta-Helghast Empire wrote:House Whiteford,
Josack & Elizabeth.
With a slight smirk, he extended his hand for a shake, "I'm sure I would be." Quietly he eyed the banner and the woman before him, Elizabeth slowly circling her, looking her up and down, taking in every little detail. The Whitefords certainly did like to know everything possible about those they encountered, both physical and mental. You could say they were right nosy fuckers. Josack would continue on, "I'm not sure if you're bold or stupid - making such a statement. However, I shall oblige you and hear what you have to say. I've already killed someone today, I'd rather not kill another - especially not outside my home, it's really not good for publicity, y'see." He'd conclude with a smirk, making it rather difficult to tell whether or not he was being serious, "So - out with it, I presume you've some sort of proposal at mind before you come here waving your little banner."
by Servinta » Tue Oct 06, 2015 7:24 pm
by Vapora » Wed Oct 07, 2015 1:03 am
Imperial Valaran wrote:The Indebted
The men stepped forwards, and Keldan realised their intent: they were aiming for him. He looked at them again. Apprehension makes the mind take in more, the faint traces of scar tissue, the knotted clumps of muscle hiding under a shirt, the needling glances the men had as they walked over to him. And those hands, swaying near knife hilts.
The leader spoke. "A moment of your time, if you'd kindly oblige." Obliging didn't seem optional.
He stepped forwards, and his companions came in behind him. Keldan looked at both, and then realised the leader was still staring at him. They expected a reply, the pointless courtesy that it was. "Of course," Keldan fumbled.
"This way." The two men came forwards, each taking one of his arms. Keldan fought down the rising fear, and walked with them, keeping his pace as similar as he could manage. They stepped into a pub, one labelled as The Woodpecker Inn. A lively place this, even given the early hour. Most of its denizens studiously ignored the arrivals, and the conversation barely faltered. The men led Keldan straight through the throng to a closed door. Keldan didn't take much of it in, the apprehension still holding him tightly. He made to open the door. The first man held out his hand. "We'll need to check you first."
Keldan raised "How much do you need to search?"
"Well..." The man looked down at his boots, the satchel hanging from one shoulder, the loose shirt and trousers. "Maybe we cou-"
"Master Keldan isn't here to assassinate me. Get him over here." A far-too-friendly voice cut through, muffled by the wooden obstruction. The man gave a sharp look back before indicating Keldan forwards. This was it. The young sorcerer, breathed once, and then entered the lion's den.
A room awaited him, stuffy and well-lit. And filled with people.
Heskr in the center. A brown haired woman at his side, young, and with grey eyes. She looked disinterested, casually resting her legs on the table. A taller man, standing behind, with thinning hair and high cheekbones. The best dressed out of all of them, he disdained to glance to at the new arrival. A few others; Heskyr's hulking bodyguard Chovrik; his pet mage Methone, a small man, with flame coloured hair. He scowled at Keldan. Already making friends, it seems. His friends from the street went to stand with them, leaving half of the room to Keldan's slim form. Alone, he looked at the gathered crowd.
And their leader, sitting happily in the center. A thick grey moustache trailed into scratchings of silver stubble, all lit by a laugh-lined face. Heskr's expressions changed like the wind. Jovial one moment, and outraged the next, all the facets of his murky existence colliding into each other on that protean canvas. His professions were just as varied: Heskr was many things, to many men. To Keldan, he was a loanshark.
"I hear you've graduated. My esteemed congratulations on your ascension to the ranks of mages." Heksr articulated himself with suprisingly small hands, dwarfed by the stuffed folds of cloth they sprung from.
"Thank you." Silence. The flutter of trepidation rose again. "The sales of some of my student stock should pay for this month's instalment."
"Good to hear. But I was hoping you'd soon be of more value to me."
What did he mean?, Keldan thought. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Being a master of the arcane arts, I think we could now up the interest. After all, your value has increased."
"You want me to pay more?"
"Precisely my boy! Unless you'd rather cancel our little contract?" His eyes glimmered with a distinctly malicious interest. Keldan resisted looking at Chovrik. This exchange was turning dangerously unequal - actually no, it had always been that, it was simply Keldan hadn't picked up on it.
"uh, no. I'll do what I can." He heard the pitiful tenor of resignation in his voice.
"Just so. Now, you're probably going to need some form of employment then, for this-"
"Yes." Keldan interrupted him, almost eager to reassure his creditor. "I was planning to look for patronage, perhaps at the university, or one of the noble houses."
"Good, good. Though," Keldan looked at the faces in front of him, "I would be honoured if you'd join my little coterie. I could always use your talents, and you wouldn't need to worry about selling your equipment. Actually, my boy, with Heskr's seal of approval, you wouldn't need to worry about much at all!"
And it clicked into place. No wonder Methone was scowling at him, the mage didn't want to compete with Keldan for his job. But all the same, it was a trap. He'd be caught in his obligation to Heskr, and he didn't think there was much honourable work the enforcer wanted him for. He'd never escape this debt. Besides, he'd always imagined he could do more than simply be caught up in the swell of someone like Heskr. "I..." This needed to be phrased carefully. Gangsters didn't take rejections well. "I'd prefer to pay you back with my own coin. I'm hardly worth employing for... any kind of work you might need a mage for."
Heskr looked crestfallen. "No? Oh, that's a shame then. It'll be sad for you to miss the fun we're having." A row of stone gazes stared back at Keldan. Heskr smiled. "You best be off then, lad. After all, you have a job to find."
And like that, it was over. Keldan had never felt so relieved to be discarded. He made to leave. "I'll still be expecting the extra dues!" Heskr called as he slipped out of the door, to the false freedom that awaited him.
The Outcast
Elana gazed cooly as the mage walked out. She turned to Heskr. "That was him?"
"Oh yes. Nice lad, that one." He eyed Elana. "Not nearly as useful as you. Or Methone here."
She gave a cool stare. "He certainly lacks my feminine wiles."
"hah, exactly!"
"Or your pointed tongue, no doubt." Methone added. He hadn't lost the scowl. She ignored him.
"Now now, Methone." Heskr grinned, clearly enjoying a spot of rivalry. He looked for all the world like an uncle, jovial, boisterous and slightly mischievous. His eyes twinkled, the only constant on that face.
The tall man coughed. "Are we done here?" He spoke for the first time, an impatient gaze levelled directly at the gangster.
And like that, the tension flowed back into the room. Heskr's face grew serious, though the twinkle never fully left his eyes. "Ah yes." Heskr looked at Elana. "Time for you to be off as well, my dear." The voice had a curtness of command.
Finally. She uncrossed her legs from the table, and sauntered off. Methone's glare, permanently etched onto his face (she thought), followed her out of the room, but even that couldn't dent the relief she felt to be away from that stuffy room, and the danger it contained.
Elana made a beeline for the bar, hoping to squeeze some brief flicker of enjoyment from what would undoubtedly be a dismal day. "Roland, a bottle of cider if you please." She slid the coins over the counter, but her head had already turned. Her eyes roved, first to the door, and then around the room. Surprisingly enough, no assassins jumped at her; the shadows remained insubstantial. But that didn't stop her wariness. Instead, she noted the various figures, and her gaze lingered on two men playing chess. She took an idle interest in that game, and the coins being passed across the table. It seemed Heskr wasn't the only one to conduct business here.
by Zombie Fascists » Wed Oct 07, 2015 5:33 am
Olthar wrote:When the girl moved behind the statue, Valeria could finally see her. She was young, ten or twelve at most, and she seemed to be frightened by the crowd. The elf didn't much care and simply ignored her.
The woman continued speaking and made a comment about how everyone dies. A slight frown appeared on Valeria's face. The naïve child clearly didn't understand what Valeria had actually said, nor was she clever enough to decipher the truth behind the words as evidenced by her followup question.
Taking a step back from the monument, Valeria examined it for a moment. It still looked like crap, always did, really. Still, at least the graffiti was gone. Tossing the rag towards the well, it smacked against the stonework and lay drapped over the edge. She then turned to view her audience.
Shooting a quick glance at the person who had arrived by carriage, Valeria looked her over. She was a mage, no doubt. That hauty, superior look was one that only magic wielders carried. Who she was and what she wanted were different questions that the elf had no answers for. Still, Valeria didn't like her presence and remained on guard in case of sudden hostilities.
Looking over towards the one who'd asked the questions, Valeria quickly identified her as another elf, though one who was very young and new to the world. Valeria became more disappointed in her. A human's short memory she could understand, but to be an elf and still be so ignorant? Her age was no excuse. Her parents were guaranteed to have been alive 100 years ago.
"My name is Valeria Silvermoon," she answered bluntly, tired of the word games, "I am one of the original members of the Sword and Board Company, the adventures who were honored by the city 100 years ago fer destroying the Cult of the Crimson Moon, a cabal of necromancers who sought to overrun the city with undead. We were given this statue that time has ruined, a holiday that the people have fergotten, and a hollow promise of everlasting gratitude that the royal family has ignored. That is who I am."
The Vekta-Helghast Empire wrote:House Whiteford,
Alu'kayna Starsinger.
Quietly her eyes shifted across the small crowd, quietly taking mental notes about each and everyone of them. She hadn't failed to notice the young elf's gaze reaching her, and chose to lower her cowl as to make her whole face that much clearer, her eyes shimmering in the light, her scar a more raw red now that it had been exposed to the light, she stepped forth, scanning the statue once more before interjecting in the conversation, "In a city such as this, elfling, can you really believe the sacrifices of those long passed or of elves to be remembered? These.. People.. Care little for history or your legacies, they care only for today and tomorrow - how to place food upon their table-tops. The only permanency to them is death." She turned her gaze to the two elves, her lips shifting slightly - though it was difficult to tell if she was smirking or just making a face. Quietly she brushed a gloved index and middle finger along the stone base of the statue, "I'm surprised you weren't wise enough to understand that the gratitude of Monarchs lasts only as long as their memory. Which isn't particularly long.." She reaches into her robes, removing a single blackish coin, a raven adorning it's surface, she extends it to the elf, "Consider this a sign of my own gratitude - for your display of public service."
by Al-Orthodoxia » Wed Oct 07, 2015 11:03 am
by The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Wed Oct 07, 2015 12:07 pm
by Olthar » Wed Oct 07, 2015 12:33 pm
by Feldkirch-Bregenz » Wed Oct 07, 2015 5:23 pm
by Servinta » Wed Oct 07, 2015 7:27 pm
Olthar wrote:Glinda had been waiting for some time before Gavin appeared. In truth, she hadn't been specifically waiting for any one person. She simply wanted someone to give her something to do, but all the heads seemed absent at the moment, all except Gavin, of course. She knew exactly what he'd meant with his innuendo but ignored it. She didn't pry into the private lives of others or spread gossip. Dwarves did everything honestly and earnestly. If you took issue with someone, you confronted him head on, not skulk in the shadows and attack his reputation. So instead, Glinda changed the subject.
"Well if'n 'e's busy far tha mom'nt, Och don' s'ppose ye haff any 'ssignm'nts far me?" the dwarven woman asked in her nearly incomprehensible accent.
by Olthar » Wed Oct 07, 2015 9:57 pm
by Kanatistan » Thu Oct 08, 2015 5:18 am
by Zombie Fascists » Thu Oct 08, 2015 5:28 am
by The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Thu Oct 08, 2015 7:51 am
by Olthar » Thu Oct 08, 2015 11:11 am
by Zombie Fascists » Thu Oct 08, 2015 12:13 pm
by The Moscow Metro Red Line » Thu Oct 08, 2015 12:26 pm
by The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Thu Oct 08, 2015 1:03 pm
by Zombie Fascists » Thu Oct 08, 2015 1:45 pm
by The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Thu Oct 08, 2015 2:24 pm
by Finsternia » Thu Oct 08, 2015 3:15 pm
Random stuff here. Random stuff there. Bla bla bla. Whatever I don't care.
Soon, the penguins shall rule the Earth with a cold flipper
by Zombie Fascists » Thu Oct 08, 2015 3:27 pm
by The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Thu Oct 08, 2015 4:05 pm
by Servinta » Thu Oct 08, 2015 7:07 pm
Olthar wrote:Glinda didn't quite understand what Gavin had said. How was that not official business? Why would they keep an investigation into the Madness off the books? Unless that's not really what was going on. Glinda had no interest in partaking in clandestine activities, but if Gavin was doing something illegal, she'd need proof before reporting him.
"Aye, A'll falle ye," she answered earnestly, "Them Marches be dang'rus, an' ye'll be needin' som'ne ta watch yer elv'n backside."
Following Gavin towards the stables, Glinda frowned. She wasn't fond of riding horses. She didn't like relying on an unpleasant and unpredictable animal. Handcars were much more reliable. She didn't understand why humans never built any. They were very common in good, dwarven mines.
by The Moscow Metro Red Line » Fri Oct 09, 2015 12:02 am
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