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| [P] The Graye Ball; Private; Cian | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sun May 8, 2011 4:02 pm (754 Views) | |
| Nicodemus | Sun May 8, 2011 4:02 pm Post #1 |
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Only a mage wouldn’t have asked questions. For this, Cassie was grateful, as she could ill afford anyone becoming curious as to why a stream of masked clients trickled in throughout the day, their identities hidden by the many and varied visages they wore, though undoubtedly they were all of some power, either politically or otherwise. Some of these folk practically crackled with energy, some walked with a smooth grace that blended into whatever shadows they passed. And some of them looked exactly alike, down to the gray cloaks they wore and the languid motions of their walk. These last always had their hoods pulled up and over the flesh exposed by their copper masks, passing him coin with hands clad in gloves. If the older mage had any questions, he hid them well as he took their coin and teleported them to the city above, looking toward his next client without the blink of an eye. Each masked figure strode in a different direction upon arrival. All save for those cloaked in gray, who headed in the same direction, toward the darker sections of town, on the edge between the abodes of the corrupt and the shacks of the slums. People noticed these, but none had the bravery to ask questions, choosing instead to turn away and setting about forgetting what they’d seen. As the light of day waned, the streets of Cascadia emptied. Masked men and women emerged from the shadows, making their gradual way toward their intended destination, following after the gray cloaked figures. One by one in irregular intervals they passed between the shadowed pillars of an empty-looking estate, light sweeping over the streets as the door opened to a sizeable ballroom, joining the growing crowd inside. Men and women conversed in twos and threes, shedding their cloaks as they entered the room, unceremoniously throwing them into a pile in the small room off to the side. The windows were painted black from the inside, blocking all view inside, and all light from leaving the manor. Gray cloaked men were scattered about the room, in the shadows of pillars, against the walls, at the doors, and striding amongst the crowd, but never speaking with them. The last to enter the ballroom was a woman who wore her black cloak as a robe, sleeved and held together by a vest of black velvet. Her hood was drawn up, but a mask made of a golden-hued steel adorned her face, intricate to the tiniest detail. Few paid immediate attention to her, though gradually she gained the eyes of the ballroom attendants as she stopped and conversed with the groups of three gray cloaks that walked the crowds. The crowd had grown silent by the time she had made her way to the front of the room, mages visibly shuddering as she walked by, quick-stepping out of her path. Ascending the stairs halfway at her own pace with a tall cloaked figure behind her, she turned to address the crowd. “Lords and ladies, scoundrels and magi, we have come tonight to discuss business, ad work out the proposals of an alliance. But let’s not sully the mood quite yet. Such matters can wait until we see fit to address them. For now, let us enjoy ourselves. Dance, laugh, eat, drink, and be merry. Tonight, ourselves alone know who each of us are. Enjoy our hand-chosen instrumentalists, and sin to your heart’s desire.” The band in the west side of the room picked up their instruments of choice, harps, lutes, and flutes, bringing their fingers to strings and lips to metal. Varied instruments showed themselves as the group of twenty musicians began to play a ballroom melody, masks hiding the varied states of damage done to each. Cassandra smiled to herself. Each and every one of these men and women would find themselves in a hand-chosen hell. They just weren’t aware of it, quite yet. Edited by Nicodemus, Sun May 8, 2011 4:03 pm.
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| Cian Uld | Mon May 9, 2011 3:48 am Post #2 |
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The witch walked amongst the crowd, his own mask made of a dull silver metal, carvings of the moon intricately drawn on the eyes and nose. His red hair was tied up neatly, his orange eyes seeming to glow from beneath the surface of the mask. Cian Uld had taken much of his time in Cascadia to find such places, sources of strange mages and skills that he would be needing soon. He had lived for such a long time that he almost forgot what it was like to feel urgency or need, though he imagined there was a lot of fun to be had in this place. He pushed through the crowds of people, his eyes wandering to the grey cloaks more then once in absent curiosity. The near soulless witch was a bit interested in what those silent guardians were. The skin crawled on the back of his neck every time he passed by one, his arms visibly shifting to stay as far away as he could. With a shake of his head, he turned to face the makeshift stage as the woman who actually spoke to the disturbing creatures ascended to it, presenting the ball to the folks in the crowd. Cian's eyes thinned noticeably, a smile creasing across his face. If there was ever a person strong enough to assist him, it would likely be the person leading the crowd. He pushed through the crowd, pulling a glass of wine from a tray as he passed by one of the people passing through the crowd. He waited for her to be done speaking, approaching the stage with a bit of interest, looking up with a grin. "You certainly know how to speak to a crowd, Miss." He offered her his hand to walk down the stairs, his other hand bringing the glass of wine up for a drink. It had been some time since the hustling witch had made his way into such a high class place, and he had quite a bit of interest in whoever was guiding the hands of everyone in the crowd. With a raised brow, he looked out over the crowd with some less-then-feigned interest, "As well as organize an interesting party." Cian Uld had lived quite a long time, and he had spent most of that time chasing hedonistic goals and self-serving interests. Now wasn't much different, but the ability to fake that it was was something that he was increasingly good at as the years went by. He just had to hope he wasn't dealing with someone-often a woman-who knew how to see through such nonsense. The masks that many of the folks wore helped him with his work, however, hiding the movement and twitches of his face. "Though I must wonder why you've chosen such... interesting guards to stand around the place." His eyes fell on one of the nearest ones, a gaze of mild interest scanning it up and down before his attention turned back to the woman, his eyes scanning at the one that stood near her now and then with a bit of apprehension. Something of them irked him, and after almost a thousand years he wouldn't be against trusting that instinct to keep him away from them if he could avoid it. He shook his head before gazing out at the crowd, smiling wider as he turned, "Though I suppose if I'm going to approach the host, I should introduce myself?" He showed a few of his bone white teeth, waiting for a response before giving his name. One of his names, anyway. Cian avoided giving his real name to new people, knowing that the eyes that were gazing in on him from the shadows were a weight he'd rather avoid having to carry. |
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| Nicodemus | Mon May 9, 2011 4:46 am Post #3 |
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Cassie looked over the crowd a moment before taking notice of one in particular, approaching the staircase. Reaching out to take the hand, Cassie smiled as warmly as she could muster. Pretty words and the offer of a few drinks. Hardly fair sport, don’t you think?” She laughed into her hand, cupped over the mask. The gray cloaked man behind her stiffened, watching their hands intently, falling into step behind them, keeping as close as possible without tripping up either of the two. Turning halfway, the woman placed a hand against its chest. It froze a moment, watching them from its position. By the time it moved again, they were in the crowd. The man turned and stalked in another direction, approaching a group of three. Cassie took the initiative, leading them towards a semi-occupied section of the floor, dancers moving round them, creating a wall against the outside. “They do their jobs well enough. Sometimes better than I’d intended.” She looked over his shoulder to eye the four graybacks watching them from across the sea of swaying bodies and conversing tongues. “I suppose you should, at that. And as the hostess, I think it’s only fair I return an introduction.” She giggled lightly, the sound unfitting of her somber dressings. “Cassandra.” She touched her hand to her breast to indicate herself. “ So tell me. What exactly brings you to my little… party? I don’t quite recognize you.” Cassie cocked her head, eyes growing milky behind her mask as she looked on past the man’s mortal trappings. A chill ran up her spine, gooseflesh growing along her arms at what she saw. Excitement colored her cheeks at her find. Her intentions in this party were admittedly less than beneficial to many of those who had attended. She had offers to make each of them, offers of power over men, wealth, the ability to set into motion certain events to improve their station in life. But this man, whether or not she knew his identity, was showing to be a curiosity-inducing potential ally. Few things drove one like freedom, and mortals are always touchy about their souls. Her interest became more directed towards the man, reaching out to take a glass of wine from a passing servant, masked in a similar manner as the musicians. Lifting it to her lips, her eyes darted to meet those of the gray cloaked figures watching them. Unspoken words passed between them, and the quad melted away into the crowd, leaving her be. Refocusing on her new companion, she gestured the side room, door ajar with a single guard standing outside. “We could speak in a more private setting, if you wish. I find crowds most unnerving when in them.” She fanned herself animatedly. Edited by Nicodemus, Mon May 9, 2011 4:47 am.
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| Cian Uld | Mon May 9, 2011 5:45 am Post #4 |
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He smiled at her first response, his interest in the woman raising quite a bit. The truth of the matter was that such words and drink was often all one needed to pull in even the most complex of man. Humans were a simple creature, for how complex they thought they were. He nodded his head gently, "I'm sure it isn't only the words and drinks that calls them." He let her infer what he meant on her own, always enjoying being an enigma in someones mind. It made things easier, especially if he had to make a quick escape. There was nothing more difficult to chase then an opponent you over-estimated. One made timid steps and too many preparations on the hunt, giving the target enough time to escape well beyond your grasp. The sort of thing that the witch would be glad to rely on. He remained silent on the subject of the cloaked ones, letting his distaste of them to be spoken in actions instead of words. Taking a sip of his drink, his orange eyes shifted towards one of the nearest ones. It was almost as displeasing as the feeling he got during his sleep, the nightmare scape that brought him closer to the hells he was destined to be dragged down to. At least, if he couldn't do something about it. He shook his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. The more he thought about it the closer he felt to his fate, the sort of feeling he would rather put off 'til the day he walked from the mortal world with a hand around his throat. With a smile, he took another sip of his drink before tipping his head, bowing slightly, "Lovely to meet you then, Cassandra. You can call me Loki." A name he was always fond of, Loki was something he took from a thief that he left dead almost seven hundred years ago. The man was a skilled thief and perhaps the best pickpocket of his time, but trying to pick the pocket of the witch was the last mistake the man ever made. Over the next few months, he spent quite a bit of time to ensure the cutthroat had spent his last days painfully, knowing that just before his death his entire family had shared a similar fate. He had calmed his rage much since those days, however. "And I suppose you can say that curiosity gets the best of me. Magic is always a source of interest for me, and where I hail from it's rather hard to come by." Though he had to admit part of that was because where he was from was ruins these days. The fall of Taras was news that came hard to the witch, but something that wasn't entirely inevitable. The larger something gets, the more close to the grinder it brings itself. "Though I suppose I could be wrong about the source of whats going on here? Magic is always somewhat enigmatic when it comes to things like this." He noticed the movements of her eyes, and wondered felt less then comfortable about the invitation to somewhere more private, but he had a feeling that turning it down wouldn't be the best choice he could pick at the moment. He smiled warmly, "Of course, crowds are always a distracting force." He waited for her to lead on, his eyes darting through the crowd, searching for the gray cloaks as they moved towards the room. He put his free hand into his jacket pocket, finishing off his glass of wine before putting it on a tray as it passed. This should be interesting, he mused to himself. |
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| Nicodemus | Sat May 14, 2011 6:03 am Post #5 |
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Cassandra lifted a hand to her masked mouth, smiling behind the mask. “Perhaps not, then.” She refused to make an open guess at his statement. If he had meant a true compliment, he would not let her to derive the meaning of his words. A clever one, then. It wouldn’t do to destroy his mind, to break his spirit. But by the ways she had begun to weave in her head, she found herself to have a potential hold over the man with an entirety few knew. None, if not few, slavers could say they could rely on the devotion of their slaves. She noted his eyes darting towards her guards. “My apologies if they discomfort you. They are quite… zealous in their work. Trained for it since birth.” Cassie chuckled airily at her joke. The guards here had been born anew not two weeks previous. By the standards of their kind, they were old. “I could not send them away if I tried.” This much was open truth, slowly the Graye had become more zealous and driven in their desire to protect Cassandra, each generation growing more insistent on being near. “Truly, they are. This one can hold their own a while. They seem to be enjoying themselves, I doubt I’ll cross their mind for several drinks yet. Come.” She tugged at his hand, weaving into the crowd, cutting her way towards the side room. Graye circled the crowd, closing in on their position, but too slowly to catch them before they managed to slip into the room. Cassie shut the door behind them, turning to a mahogany desk and pinching the wick of a half-meted candle, its wax flowing over the holder and wood, forming icicles of wax over the edge of the desk. Snapping her fingers together, she brought out a small amount of fire. The heat snapped into the wick, gaining a foothold and bursting into a purple-red splendor. Circling the desk, she offered him a seat on the other side. “Come and sit, Loki.” Her tone had cooled rapidly from an excited girl into that of a business-minded matron. The door creaked as weight was placed on it, Graye leaning against the wood. Taking her own seat, Cassie unrolled a blank parchment and lifted a quill, dipping it in a maroon well. Holding the quill aside, she reached up, removing her mask. “No need for concealing identities here. Just you and I.” She set the mask down, candlelight reflecting off the polished steel. Touching the quill to her lips, she nibbled at the tip, leaving a dot of reddish ink on her lower lip. “Do tell me about yourself, dear Loki. What is it that’s so… special about you?” |
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| Cian Uld | Sat May 14, 2011 9:17 pm Post #6 |
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He smiled, raising a hand to dismiss the idea that the grayes discomforted him, though they did. He didn't like to make any sort of movements in social interactions that showed weakness, and from what he could tell of the woman, showing any weakness wouldn't be very good for his safety. With a smile, he merely nodded, "It is good for a lady of stature to have guardians, I suppose. Though I imagine if they're so clingy one would rather have more lax guardians." He didn't fight the tug of her hand, regardless of the apprehension that was growing in him at the thought of it. usually this would be the sort of thing that Cian would be happy to accept, but the way the body guards were moving and the look in the woman's eyes disturbed him. He had lived for quite a long time, and one didn't grow to be as old as he did without quite a bit of instinct. As they passed into the room, he gazed around it, barely looking behind him as the door was set so that he couldn't get out. She had planned this well without a single word to her guardians. Having such well trained guards had to be something of a useful tool. He cursed his carelessness for not thinking with his proper head. He shook his head, taking the offer to sit without a word and setting himself down into the cushioned chair. He felt himself sink into it's comfortable fabric, something he was far from used to from his day to day life, often times being more used to hay and wood. What lodgings one could afford after gambling their fortune away. After a few moments of looking at the woman, he drew the mask from his face. The most distinctive part of his face being the tattoo of the ouroboros upon his left cheek, just beneath his eye. It's eyes seemed to glow just the same as his. He thought over it for a moment, wondering what exactly the woman wanted to know, or what she thought she knew to have him cornered enough to be able to do such measures to learn it directly from him. "I'm afraid I am rather mundane, beyond some minor skill in spell crafting. Not so unusual for this realm, is it? I've seen many an impressive spell caster in my time, so I'm sure I'm nothing special to you." He looked at the wall, wrapping his chin in his hand. The things that made him special were things that he wouldn't tell a single soul, under the penalty of death. Though the one creature that would put him to the sword already knew very well about every single secret locked beneath his surface. For a moment, the glow in his eyes stopped as his mind drifted to the thoughts of what exactly it would do to him, the hells that he would have to endure were he to fail at stopping the inevitable. "But I do have a question for you. What do you know about demons?' He turned his head to look at her, an inquisitive look showing in his eyes. If she knew as much as she thought she knew, it would be very helpful to learn some information from her to rid himself of this nonsensical deal. He wondered if it'd be possible to have someone else trade spots with him. A smile showed on his face at the thought of it, not something he hadn't done already at some point in his life. "Or perhaps, the powers they have when it comes to the mortal soul?" His voice was slightly baited, his mind not realizing that he was asking questions in a way similar to poker, only the way he was asking was similar to him playing with his cards showing. Not something he was remarkably comfortable with, the gambler never enjoying losing a hand. |
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| Nicodemus | Sun May 15, 2011 11:17 pm Post #7 |
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Cassandra intertwined her fingers, resting her chin atop them as she looked over the man’s face, noting the marking with its glowing eyes. She found the overall effect aesthetically appealing. She couldn’t quite focus on anything else physically about him. “Oh, come now. You hardly seem unremarkable to me. You must have talents, stories. Unique aspects about you that few others could claim.” She turned in her chair, rising and approaching a shelf, arranging the miscellaneous objects upon it. Dried tails, tokens carved from bone and copper, engraved with various symbols and pictures. Few of them held any actual power, though a couple had a faint buzz about them. Cassandra was quickly growing tired of this game, fishing for clues as to the origins of this man’s… predicament. She picked up an iron coin with an angelic sigil embossed on the front. Running her thumb over the raised symbol, she froze at his question, a smile growing upon her face. “Demons?” Cassandra turned with a wide grin, eyes clouding over and deadening. Her chest ceased to rise and fall as her breath faded away to nothing. If she hadn’t moved, she could easily have been dead. Her eyes flicked back and forth, seeing a disharmonious mess of smoke wrapping itself through the confines of the man’s body, a humanoid shape composed of silvery light. “The soul is a delicate creature, dear Loki. Something no man should touch, and few beings have any right to.” Cassandra set the coin back down, walking slowly, moving with a floating grace. She retook her seat and attempted to regain her composure. Color flooded back into her cheeks, eyes clearing and focusing on his face. Brushing her neck with her fingertips, the woman cleared her throat. “Delicate. And beyond risky to deal with demons regarding the soul. There is hardly a hope when a demon has hold of a mortal soul, to gain your life back.” Cassandra studied his face, rubbing a finger over the faint traces of red ink on her lips, each line thinner than a spider’s thread. |
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| Cian Uld | Mon May 16, 2011 7:04 am Post #8 |
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He feigned a smile, rubbing two of his fingers together while raising his brow, "I assure you you're looking where there is nothing, I am quite unremarkable. I suppose you could just say I have an overdeveloped attraction to women which brought me to you." He leaned his head into his hand, trying to keep his lips or eyes from narrowing as she pressed on. He didn't want to give anything away, but he had a good feeling that this woman could see well beyond him, to what was resting beneath. Something that he really would rather not have. Some of the color left his cheeks as the air stopped moving into her chest, his eyes moving down to it then up to the item she held in her hand. He ground his teeth hard in regret as he was well aware that he couldn't get out of the room without quite a bit of a fight, let alone escape the guards that held themselves against the door outside. There wasn't a way for the gambling witch to escape. Shaking his head, he looked back at the door and sighed, lowering his head as he turned back to her. "The soul isn't what's delicate, it's who contains it. Souls are remarkably strong, able to endure endless amounts of spell-work before being broken and left on the side of the road." He dropped his act, running his tongue over the back of his teeth nervously. He wasn't built for such high stress situations, at least he didn't like to think he was. It was just a bother, something that he would rather live out the rest of his days then have to deal with. But he had a stinking suspicion that his last days would be few if he didn't walk into such situations more then once before then end. He might as well start dealing with them now. For a moment, his head felt like it was splitting, a burning feeling growing in the back of his eyes. He leaned forward, holding his forehead in his hands. Visions flashed in front of his eyes, a beast made of pure shadow holding him by the throat before stabbing into him, draining every ounce of blood out of his body before leaving him by the way-side. His breathing became heavy as the vision ended, the pain subsiding. It was getting worse, and he needed to find something to hold it back. He was seeing what would happen to him if he didn't finish whatever he needed to to be rid of the demon's hunger. With a final heavy breath, he pulled himself back into the chair, running his hands over his face. "Though I suppose a picture is better then words if you're really looking to pry, hm? If you're truly curious about what I am, maybe you should tell me what you are, Cassandra." His eyes seemed to lack any sort of curiosity or hatred now, the pain in his head far too much to show emotion. Now he just wanted to be done with her and gone, to the closest gambling den where he could find someone who was willing to bet their life, and cheat them out of it. Then he could make his sacrifice, and buy himself a little more time before his bill came do. Just a little more time. |
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| Nicodemus | Mon May 16, 2011 10:40 pm Post #9 |
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“A soul is more delicate than you’d think, dear Loki. Overall a great force, a well of untapped power that many of us are not privy to. But when pressure is applied in the right places, or they are mistreated and mishandled by those who hold them, they are quite easy to lose control over. To break.” Cassandra smiled at the man without a physical hint of what had just transpired. The woman watched as he doubled over, clutching at his head. She heard his breaths draw deep, but no sound coming from him. He was lost in another place. As he came back around, Cassandra grinned. Her hold would be near perfect. But without all the facts, she could not be sure how tightly she could hold the leash. “You wish to be free of me. I am not stopping you from leaving, my guardians would be only so kind as to escort you as far away from me as they can. I assure you, Loki, you are no prisoner of mine. Unless you want to be.” The girl winked. His statement was thinly veiled, mere pleasantries and games falling between the two of them and what they both wanted. “You wish to know of me? I have nothing to hide. Not from you. From some, perhaps, but I’ve no problem with sharing. After all, were you to betray me, I could very well make your life a wandering hell.” The undertones in her voice were clear. I will share, but if you let it slip, you will regret your choice. Cassandra stood. She glanced to the door and an instant later it opened, one of the Graye entering the room, shutting the door behind itself. Striding dangerously close to Cian, it didn’t so much as spare him a glance as it stood next to its mistress. “These are my guardians.” She reached up and pulled down its hood, baring a hairless, masked head. The flesh was grayish tan in color, thin, but not translucent. “They are the Graye. Neither human nor elf, dwarf nor goblin. And neither dead nor living.” Reaching up, she caressed a long nail against the bronze mask it wore. “And they are my children.” She dug the nail underneath the mask, peeling it away from the face. It had no nose, no ears. The thin black line of its lips extended twice that of a normal man’s, and its eyes were large and a pearlescent gold. Two marks adorned its right temple, a celestial crest and a smaller, blockier symbol. The structure of its face was slender, but obviously strong, muscles of its jaw defined and developed. “Who I am is not defined by birth, heritage, or personality. It is defined by a station. There is no name for it, though a rather clichéd term for it the people have given is reaper. The station has been duplicated many times over, romanticized, and misunderstood. I do not ferry the dead, though I may choose where they go, or do not. I am not bound to take the lives of the near-dead, though I do so if it is my will.” Cassandra reached into her robes, drawing forward a crystal ball just smaller than a human head, setting it on the desk. The crystal it was made of did not reflect light, though it produced a small amount of its own, black clouds within it broken by silvery substances darting to and fro. “This station was first created by a descendant of both Abysmal and Celestial bloods. It is a force of balances. There have been attempts to recreate its power, but it is a sad replication.” Leaning forward, Cassandra placed a hand on the orb. Silvery light flowed from the crystal’s surface, breaking away from it and shaping itself. Swiftly three more figures entered the room. A lithe,willowy elf, barely older than a boy, and two humans, one robed as a wizard, the other a toughened, scarred man. “My name is Cassandra Bristow, and I deal in souls.” |
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| Cian Uld | Mon May 16, 2011 11:27 pm Post #10 |
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He couldn't hide the smile on his face, or the loss of emotion in his eyes as he realized he had stumbled into exactly what he wanted. His fingers rubbed together tentatively, an anxious desire growing within him. Someone who dealt in souls was exactly what he had been searching for for almost a thousand years, since the night he planted the knife in the first of his siblings. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to suppress the memory of the look in the little girls eyes before he stabbed into her heart. "I assure you, Miss Bristow, that my life is already it's own special level of hell. You couldn't bring it any lower then it is, even with your protective dolls." He made a nod towards the Graye, an obvious look of disgust on his face. He was well aware of necromancy, though his distaste for it was on a level of necessary evil. Something that he knew had to be done for some goals to be achieved. At least other's goals, he was quite sure that he wouldn't wish to delve into it if he could avoid it. "So what exact power would you have over a soul, Reaper? I'm sure there are limits to your powers, and I'm also quite sure that what I want is likely beyond you." He kicked his legs lazily before sighing, shaking his shaggy hair and sighing. There was no use dancing around the subject if it would just take longer to get to the goal that he wanted. He leaned forward, holding his hands forward and stopping short for a few seconds, closing his eyes to cast back another memory. Sitting in the middle of a similar study, his father was asking if he knew anything about what had happened to the baby daughter of the family, who was barely a toddler. He watched his father turn to face a window, looking out over the gardens. And he watched himself walk from behind his father, and plant a knife between his ribs, dropping his father to the ground before continuing the ritual that had brought him here. He sighed again, running a hand over his forehead, "You can call me Cian, Loki is an alias I use in the gambling dens around Balefire. I am a human, yet I am..." His eyes fogged over as he thought about it, counting on his fingers to get the exact date, "Nine-hundred and ninety-nine years old, and almost six months over that. When I said magic is hard to come by where I come from, it's because I was born in Taras a long time ago. Such a long time ago..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Delving into his past was painful for him, his mind repressing the memories as hard as he could. The visions of the things he did to his family were painful enough, but the things he had done for the last nine hundred years to ensure that his soul wasn't damaged, wasn't leaving him a drooling mess, was even more painful. "I am slowly being dragged into the abyss, a demon holding the rights to my soul. I'm looking for a way to take that soul back. And that.. is all I'm going to tell you." It wasn't a little amount of information, but when it came to the scope of all he had done, it was quite a small scope indeed. A few nights before he had even heard rumors of what was going on here he was doing one of his little deals, working in one of the lesser visited bars of Cascadia in the back rooms. He had bet and subsequently taken the soul of a father of three, and only no did the thought of that strike him. He simply ground his teeth, running his hand over his forehead again. |
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| Nicodemus | Tue May 17, 2011 2:01 am Post #11 |
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” I assure you, Miss Bristow, that my life is already it's own special level of hell. You couldn't bring it any lower then it is, even with your protective dolls." Cassie smiled. “I assure you, it can always get worse.” She allowed him the bit about the Graye, letting the commentary pass by. No need for him to know she had little need for the creatures in the matter of protection. Their guardianship was by their own doing, assigning them to her for the protection of their kind. A race born and developed for the uses of their creator. Though the origin of their species was closely guarded, one of few secrets the woman kept of her own. “Do not hate them so. Their beauty is perhaps a matter of the beholder’s opinion, but without a doubt, they are a wonder.” She returned to her seat, the spirits fading away, the orb taking on a silver glow as it reabsorbed the three. “I do not care for the term Reaper. It is a title granted by the people, though an inaccurate one. I can just as easily sow as reap. We are much more than reapers. We sort balances, judge the rights and lives of the mortal herd. We are appointed to keep the balance. If anything, Arbiter is a more accurate term. As for power, I have… more than most. More than that I do not wish to disclose. But I assure you with equal certainty, whatever your need, I can fill it. It is a matter of whether or not I choose to.” Cassie leaned back. “I figured as much.” Her smile spread as he described his predicament. “That I can help with. In a number of ways, in fact. These deals happen often, though not as much as one would think. I have little problem with it, until it begins to tread on my own interests. And you, dear Cian, are in my interests.” Cassandra winked. “I could slowly pay him off, keeping your bargain running for as long as you continue to keep in my interests. I could relinquish all holds on you, for the promise of your soul upon death, at the cost of mortality. You would die just as easily as the next man. Or you can help me. Your debt to this demon will cease. You will enjoy the boon of immortality in its fullest. But I will retain control of your soul. Every time you fall near death or beyond, I will bring you back. For every death you bring about, I will take the soul for my own.” Cassandra steepled her fingers in her lap. “I find myself in need of eyes and ears. I require an Agent.” "Your soul, Cian, is bound for the abyss. and one way or another, it will find its way there. The deeds involved in such deals, and even making them, warrant your punishment. Even if the deal were no more, if no demon were there to pull your soul down, you would go. But i offer redemption. I am asking for your soul, think no less of this. But i am the lesser of two demons." [/color] |
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| Cian Uld | Tue May 17, 2011 10:06 am Post #12 |
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He smiled at her saying his life could always get worse, leaning back into his chair and putting his arms over the back of it. He wondered about that, knowing that either way he would live the tail end of his life with the issue of how and when he would die, and how horrible what happened next would truly be. He never deluded himself into believing that anything he did would lead him to the happier after-life, the sort that his family was likely at now. His face frowned as his mind went back to them, a flash of his mother's face before he slit her throat. He closed his eyes to try and banish the thought from his mind, shaking his head slightly to try and help the process. "I suppose I can give up that point, for now." He didn't respond to her view on the Graye's, conceding that neither of them would see eye to eye on the subject. It was something that he simply wouldn't budge on, unless something major changed that pushed him into needing to enjoy them. They were distasteful in his view, ugly abominations that were apparently a necessary evil. He could deal with them in the same way a noble dealt with a peasant, necessary creatures supporting the foundation beneath you. A grim smile crossed his face as he truly thought about where he would head when he died, his mind blurring his thoughts to try and stop him from even considering the chance that he could die. The thing Cian Uld fear, the only fear he held in his heart at all, was death. He had seen countless years, atrocities, and maddening chaos and he was increasingly uncaring towards it all. But death brought a chill to his spine. "So what you're telling me is I can be bound to a demon, or bound to a reaper? On one hand I'm a slave and on the other, a meal. Both options seem extremely distasteful, dear Cassandra." He raised his brow and tapped the side of his head, looking towards her with a bit of annoyance in his eyes. He hated the idea of being a slave to an arrogant woman, regardless of what she looked like. Either way his soul was bound for places that he would rather not see, but he wondered exactly how much time he could buy with methods that didn't involve people so involved with the every day workings of the mortal soul. There was obvious discomfort in his voice now, "So what would I need to do?..." He looked over her for a moment and shifted in the chair again, crossing one of his legs over the other. "And I don't think it'd be redemption, not from what I can see of your... guardians. I'd merely be trading my soul from one evil to another, something I can accept freely-just don't sugar coat it, Miss Bristow. I can accept when I must do something evil to do something good, be it for others or for myself. All I ask of you is that you don't lie about what you want, and I'd really like to know why I'm so interesting to you." His lips and eyes both narrowed, not liking the subtle dance that the woman was doing with him. She was speaking up front, but something was being hidden beneath the surface. It wasn't hard for him to identify it, he had made a living with such things. Gambling relied on hiding things beneath the surface, putting on a smiling face when beneath the surface there was fear and anxiety. You don't con a con-man. |
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| Nicodemus | Tue May 17, 2011 11:21 pm Post #13 |
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Cassandra glanced over the exposed Grayback standing frozen, not budging an inch. “After all, it’s not as if they’re some crudely-formed zombie. The Graye are born like any other.” She reached out, slipping her hand in its. The fingers twitched around hers once, then wrapped, holding them gingerly, as a guardian would a child’s. Turning her gaze back to Cian, she frowned. “Come now, you’d hardly be a meal. I’d hold your soul, for the purposes of keeping you alive. If you were to die, I’d bring you back. And when all is complete, I would release you. Many have met a much worse fate, sweet boy.” Cassandra’s eyes hardened. “Hardly an evil. I see no point in the flimsy system mortals deem morals. Why they seem so offended by these weak, aimless rules being broken confounds me. I take no side in the fight between good and evil. My only meddling is when the balances are tipped in one direction or another.” Cassie retracted her hand, inspecting the nails. “I will not lie to you. The things you may be asked to do might seem… unsatisfactory to your baser human instincts. I am asking you to disregard these feelings. Without them, you will find performing many tasks much easier. Indulge in morality when you act of your own will, but in an order of mine, you will go about it methodically and to my satisfaction. If circumstances disallow the task to be completed, then I will forgive you. I am not unkind. But if you refuse to do something because you feel it is wrong, there will be a grave punishment. There are many ways life can be worse than death, especially when one has no way to escape it.” Cassandra’s voice chilled. Reaching forward, Cassandra palmed the orb, rolling it over the surface of the table to sit dead between them. She could taste how close she was to gaining the answers, to having her new hand. It was a dance she was unused to, speaking a lie through not mentioning the whole truth, but one she would have to grow accustomed to. The position was ancient, existing longer than many others, and through the years it had evolved, gaining power from each previous Arbiter, developing its own mind. The power had existed long before the idea of morals had been conceived. It had a near sentience of its own, not a speaking intelligence, but a driving force aimed at balancing Chaon. If the scales were tipped one way, then the Arbiter would lean opposite. “If you accept the offer, then by your own free will, offer blood to he who offers. In matters such as these, in the picking of a Hand, the Arbiter cannot force the initiation. Only a soul who offers himself completely may fulfill the terms of the stated contract.” Cassandra spoke, the words direct from the Arbiter’s Principia, the only written form of the rules, rights, and power of the Arbiter. Grinning, she waved a hand at the orb on the table. “Cut your wrist and press it to the orb.” |
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| Cian Uld | Wed May 18, 2011 4:50 am Post #14 |
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"You aren't the one who'd devour me. Far from it, I imagine. Or maybe it's just a hope?" He smiled, shifting forward and looking straight into her eyes when she spoke, not looking down at the gem on the table for a single moment until she finished what she had to say. What she was asking for was the sort of magic a mortal ignored completely, morality or no. "So you want me to bind myself to your will, through blood? Now isn't it curious that so much things dealing with the soul seal themselves in such painful manners. Think there's a reason behind that?" He smiled, pulling a deck of cards from his jacket and setting them on the table between the two of them before removing his jacket entirely. Beneath was a simple white undershirt, a black vest over it. He pulled the button off from the wrist-cuff and pulling the sleeve back down to his elbow. Seven identical scars were ritualistically placed along his forearm. He drew one of the cards from the deck, A seven of spades. He sighed, and shook his head. "Got anything to open the wound, then? I don't hold weapons on my person." He set the card down face up, smiling as he leaned back. The face of the card seemed to ripple for a moment before calming. There was something hidden beneath the surface of the card, something locked deep that only the wielder of the deck could see. The draw was an unlucky one, because he knew that there were few of the cards that still held power compared to what he was aware it could do. "Well, that is if you want me to seal the deal, anyway. I can inflict superficial pain but I prefer to leave the fighting to people who are more fit for it, like your... dolls." He made sure his voice had a certain inflection when referring to the Graye's, letting her know that his mind wouldn't change on them in the slightest. At least not without quite a bit of proof that they were something beyond the dolls he viewed all undead as, at least unintelligent undead. He had a bit of a different eye for the other kind, though whether it was good or not was something else entirely. "And I must ask again, what is it that makes me such an interesting creature? I'm not remarkable by any measure, I'm quite sure others have made the same sort of deal I have. As for my abilities? Mundane. My knowledge? Normal for someone as old as I am. So what is it that catches your eye, Miss Bristow?" He rose his brow, leaning back and letting a smile cross his face. A small glint appeared in the eye or his tattoo, the snake of the ouroboros looking as if it shifted. The tattoo was the source of most of what he did, though he wouldn't admit that in the least. If one gave away his weakness, that man was a fool. "Is it because of the state of my soul, maybe? That is the only thing that would pull you in from a simple meeting, if you're as powerful as you think you are. And as far as that goes, if there are many like me because of these deals, then you just want people like me. Meaning that I can be traded away once a better one comes along, making the deal temporarily. Making me a fool for taking it." He raised his brow, "Am I wrong?" |
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| Nicodemus | Fri May 20, 2011 4:16 am Post #15 |
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Cassandra produced a curved sword, blade a good eighteen inches of polished steel. Its surface was silvery, etched with black in sweeping designs that changed feeling, from a raw, tribal design at the hilt, blending into an elegant, patterned line. Setting the blade on the desk in front of the man, she gestured to it with both hands to its sides. “It is not bloodshed I seek from you. My needs are a little more… elegant than simple murder. I have many who are perfectly willing and capable to carry out those tasks, one of them my… dolls, as you put them.” Cassandra shrugged. If he was going to be set in his position against the Graye then there was little she could do to change his mind. So long as he failed to understand what they were on a grander scale, he would not budge. And she had no intention of letting him observe her side project. Not yet, anyway. “You, Cian, are interesting for a few reasons. Some of which I will keep to myself. But know that by your very existence, you interest me. By your experience, you interest me. By the secrets one of your origin is bound to be keeping. Your very being is an intrusion upon my domain, though it was not by another’s hand, but your own.” Cassandra scraped beneath her nails with another nail. “I am interested in the sort of person to condemn themselves for so long.” Her smile froze as he spoke, a scowl taking its place. “I do not bandy about offers such as these. And if you insist on questioning the worth of my promise, I will see to your stay amongst the living will prove a shorter one than you intended.” bead of blood ran from where the nails were digging into her hand, fist clenched. Lowering her head, she tried to breathe deeply. The Graye broke its stillness, reaching out to place a hand on her arm. ‘Calm yourself, Mother.’ Cassie stilled, unaware of the size of the meaning behind that action. What the silent communication had symbolized slipped by her. Cassie exhaled one final breath. “My sincerest apologies. I let my temper get away from me. I do not go back on my word, Dear.” Closing her eyes, she sat down and fanned herself with her hand. |
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8:23 AM Jul 11

