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| Cairns on the Wine River [FIN]; [ST05][Signups Closed] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sat Sep 17, 2016 1:22 pm (8,253 Views) | |
| Storyteller[ST] | Sat Sep 17, 2016 1:22 pm Post #1 |
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Cairns on the Wine River Prologue: Ghost Water This trail hadn't been cleared in months, but the horses were able to make it through just fine. One of them turned its glowing eyes north. Though dull and blurry, the Wine River was visible through all the tangled roots and twisted stems. In these parts of Gloomwood, the Ethereal Plane didn't line up with Chaon quite right. A layer of ghost water bobbed a few inches higher up than the real water's surface, making the mist look even thicker. All the dark cypresses growing in the middle of the river trailed an alien afterimage. The ice-flooded backswamps thrummed, filling ears with palpable, pointless noise. No insect or spirit dared announce its presence here. The riders watched a hawk-sized bat fluttering between the darktrees. It phased ten feet east so that it could snap up a worm wisp drifting in thin air. Freezing rain rolled in a few hours later, snuffing out the candle clocks hanging off their mounts' saddles. Viktor Dalca, the lead, tilted his head down so his wide-brimmed storm hat blocked the wind. Droplets pounded his chest and shoulders. Thin, cracked ice spread across his riding coat. His horse's eyes froze shut. Nadi squinted upstream. "Favorable weather," she said. Viktor chuckled. The two prison barges were moving right on schedule. From this distance and in this weather, they were nothing more than giant shadows drifting beyond the treeline. Needed to get closer still. The scene unfolded to show workers at the front of both watercraft. They used poles to knock away any errant sheets of river ice that were clogging the breaker-blades and slowing the barge. What few guards were posted outside the decktop prisons stayed huddled around heating lanterns. Viktor cut a path upstream and dismounted; his posse followed suit. Saddlebags unbuckled. Ropes and hooks and other implements clattered as they were prepped. Viktor put his back to the rain so he could string his bow. No one spoke. They all knew the plan already. So did the team on the opposite shore led by Viktor's younger brother Yevhen. Before he climbed up into the tree, Nadi gave Viktor a thump on the non-prosthetic arm and gestured toward the shoreline. Using a fingertip to push up his hat's brim, he revealed his face: square jaw, sunken cheeks, ripped white skin, thin smile. After a quick appraisal of the scene, he gave her the go-ahead to set up the crew at that point on the river's edge. Then he grabbed a nearby tree branch and hoisted himself into the mist above. Not much time left. The barges were a minute out from crossing the interception point. Viktor plunged a device into the trunk and allowed it to unfurl into a sniping platform. On his perch he steadied his thin spyglass, calibrating it, and then fastened it to the anchor point on his bow. Watched through it. Nadi had been right. The freezing rain obstructed the enemy's visibility, and the churning of the river ice sheet in front of the barge muffled their hearing as well. Viktor drew back an arrow, causing the joints in his false arm to crackle as ice was ground between bone-shaped pieces of rough metal. The first guard died like an animal. The second was already clawing at the arrow in her neck by the time someone pulled their alarm horn. It got a lot trickier after that. Survivors split from the heating lantern and took cover. They estimated Viktor's hiding place based on the angle of his shots. Not bad. Something similar was happening on the other barge with Yevhen's group, based on the cries. Viktor laid low as a hail of crossbow quarrels thumped into trees and rustled black leaves near him. The barges sped up. Crossed the interception point. His crew at the shoreline exploded from their hiding places, grappling hooks in hand, some already starting to swing them. They let them fly -- nine barb-ended ropes shooting across the gap in the river. They locked onto the rim of the deck. One of the barge guards made a daring leap from cover, shield up, and tore off two of the hooks. Viktor lined up his shot carefully. His arrow struck the prison wall, ricocheted against a rune carved in shadow, and plunged into the guard's back. An arrow from Yevhen's angle finished the job. Little brother must've climbed to a taller point to get a better vantage, the damn one-upman. In the time it took to deal with that little mess, Viktor's gang had succeeded in getting the horses going. Hooked up to the grappling cords, the angry beasts pulled, snorting jets of mana vapor from their nostrils as they went. The two barges were drifting away from each other now, toward either shore of the river. He was last man on the boat. Easy, casual steps brought him among the gang members who were tying up bent-over guards, tossing the dead overboard, sawing off the jailmaster's head, and guarding the cowering deckstaff. Once he confirmed the situation was under control, he stopped in front of the captain. She had her hands up in surrender while Nadi pressed a knife to her throat. "Fine night, isn't it? Name's Viktor. And you are?" The captain's eyes were hard. "What do the Dalca brothers want from a couple prison barges?" "No name? I'll call you sister, then. Take a seat, sister." Nadi pushed her down into the navigator's seat as Viktor examined the water engine's runes. "I need a favor. Turn this barge around and take us to Nine Angels." "That cesspit? We just came from the penal colony at Starek!" "Not a problem with me," Viktor rumbled. "How about you? No protest?" The captain fixed her eyes on the runes and muttered something. The man made a gesture with a gloved hand, beckoning her to speak up. "Fine," is what she said. He smiled, widening the rips on his face. "Good! You won't be returning to Balefire, sister, but at least you'll have your life." Everyone You recently received a letter with a job offer you found uniquely irresistible. What was the job it said you'd be doing? What was the hefty reward that was promised for your troubles? To get the job you need to meet the hiring official at The Wolf and Swindler, an establishment located on Bracken Street in Balefire. Unlike many nations, which measure time based on the movements of the sun, Balefire's numerous clocks project absolute time down to the minute: sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, twenty-four hours in a night. Businesspeople in the City of Lanterns are well-known for their concern about punctuality, so you'd best not be late. Muffled music rolls down Bracken Street from what appears to be your destination. Whatever you've heard about extreme poverty or over-foundrization in Balefire, it hasn't affected this cozy part of town. There's clean brick pavement on the road, sturdy well-made buildings, and no one shady mulling around the recesses. Fortunately, Balefire's famous chill has loosened its grip; it's probably around freezing temperature, not too windy. A sign dangling from a post shows the text 'THE WOLF AND SWINDLER' written in Bridgetongue first, then Common, then three other languages. You go in. Despite the name implying it might be a tavern-inn sort of deal, this is actually one of those trendy lounges. Packed restaurant tables on one side, a smoke-filled bar and leisure area in the other. At the center, people are dancing in pairs. The band's music is Balefiren alright: lilting rhythms and fast tempos with various brass instruments. A trio of crooning elves in short dresses, fur-lined coats and glittering stockings head the stage. Some of the people sitting down are tapping their feet -- not to say that everyone is wrapped up in the atmosphere of the place. Four werewolves in well-tailored formalwear stare at you from across the room. One of them downs a shot. Another blows smoke from his nostrils, cigarette pinned between two clawed fingers as he sizes you up. "Right this way," an attractive young eight-eyed hostess tells you, leading you up a set of stairs and into a room labeled 'Restricted Access' in Bridgetongue. She opens the door for you, keeping her head bowed and eyes on the ground as a sign of great politeness. This balcony has a great view of the action on the ground floor while maintaining the privacy of the meeting. In the center is a large table flanked by waitstaff. Sitting at the head: a young man. Upon seeing you, he smiles. He's clean-shaven and dark-skinned with two jagged marks framing his wolf eyes. A loose-fitting umbra-skin suit and white gloves cover him. After shaking your hand and introducing himself as Antonio Krupin with a company called Oxbow Wrightworks, he encourages you to sit. "I'll wait until everyone is here before I begin our business. Would you like anything to eat or drink? The Wolf and Swindler has a fine selection, including exotic meats. Isn't that right, Zuraw?" Mr. Krupin gestures toward the other side of the room. When he does, you notice something out of the corner of your eye. Scratch that: someone. Their presence is so weak that you either didn't notice them at first or thought they were a decorative armor mount in the corner. They're wearing jet-black plate and a white hooded mantle covering a fluted armet. "Don't mind Sir Zuraw. She's taken a vow of silence, so she'll be content to remain in the background." As the minutes roll by and the songs from below change, more and more seats on the table fill with people like you. The atmosphere is casual enough that you might feel inclined to chat with your peers. Once all of the seats are full, Mr. Krupin settles into his. Zuraw takes silent steps until she's standing at attention next to the entrance. Waiters and waitresses set down any ordered food or drink, then depart. "I would like to preface everything I'm about to say with an apology. The nature of the task we at Oxbow require is of utmost secrecy. I was forced to deceive you when inviting you here; I had no other choice. And so... the details I included in your letter were false. Once again, I apologize from the bottom of my heart." He bows his head, grabbing the edge of the table. "However, there was a reason I recruited you. Your skills are critical to this task's success. Each and every one of you has a role to play, and you'll be paid generously. That being said, I understand if you're no longer interested in the job. How about this: take a minute to think about it. You may freely leave now if you so choose. But by remaining in your seat, you hereby agree to perform the job as assigned and cannot back out after hearing the details. I'm sorry that I can't give you any more information until you've consented." The room goes quiet for a short while. This is a perfect chance to leave if you're not getting a good feeling about this. Once enough time has passed that it's apparent no more people are going to leave, Mr. Krupin makes a dismissive gesture toward Zuraw. She inclines her head, then steps out into the hallway. The door closes behind her. You have a good guess that she's probably blocking the entrance. You can't leave anymore. "Very good. Let's begin, then." Mr. Krupin pulls out a stack of papers nestled in a leather-bound holder. "We at Oxbow Wrightworks have been the victim of relentless attacks from our rival, the Wine River Transport Company. Of all the companies that began the bid for the Balefire-to-Striberg scorchway, we're the only two remaining. And I hate to admit that we're losing this war of sorts. While Wine River has received sponsorships from over thirty Lords of Balefire to aid in the bid, we're lagging behind by an embarrassing amount. Their methods are extensive, too. They fill the local pamphlets with slanderous lies, poach our employees with better payment and benefits, and disrupt our chain of command with hit-and-run attacks on the street. This cannot stand." He shakes his head. "We need to land a single, decisive blow." (You have received a new Mandatory Job.) Once you're all done discussing the job, the door opens and you're free to go. How do you perform your job?
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| Arthur | Sat Sep 17, 2016 4:10 pm Post #2 |
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It was dark but then again it was always dark in Balefire. Not that that mattered to Arthur he could see even in the most intense darkness thanks to his dragon eyes. He took out a letter that had seen use for the past couple of days. It read " To Arthur: We have a job for you one you’re well suited for. You will be guarding and protecting an Ambassador from the Dragon Lords. Not that they need much protection but we would feel better if you came anyway. The reward for completion of this task will not only be wealth but we also promise you a unique item of your choice from the Ambassadors own personal horde. The Ambassador has agreed to this and knows of you through your father. Please come with all haste Antonio Krupin". Arthur had read the letter many times thus its wear it always stayed the same. It was one of the reasons Arthur came. Not only because of the wealth and possible access to a horde but he was curious about a possible challenge. Still he was wary what if it was a trap. What better way to lure someone than offering him a chance he couldn't pass up. Still Arthur would go despite this and if trouble followed whoever this Antonio was would find out what he could do. He read the note again to make sure he was heading in the right direction. He was heading to The Wolf and Swindler on Bracken Street. He knew where that was it was just he was making sure he knew. You could never be too careful after all. He made his way through the streets making good time. Time was important to the citizens of Balefire and as such did not like it when people did not keep their appointments. Arthur had lost a few jobs here because of his attitude toward time. His motto was never late, never early, arrive precisely when you mean to. But it could not apply today so Arthur moved in haste. Finally he came to Braken Street and found the place he was looking for. Music could be heard even from the outside and smells of beer and food emanated from it. Arthur looked at the sign it was in several languages and he knew he was at the right place. Arthur opened the door and walked in. Arthur looked around noting the variety of people in the crowd. He saw the werewolves looking at him and Arthur just looked right back steel in his eyes. Not that he looked it in his human form but Arthur was a very powerful half-dragon. Werewolves were nothing to him well maybe not nothing but Arthur was not concerned. A young attractive eight eyed woman came up to him and said to follow her. He guessed she was the hostess and was told to expect him. Arthur followed yet from a distance looking around for any sign of danger. They climbed some stairs and then entered a room that over looked the ground floor. A young man possibly younger than Arthur sat at a table with a wait-staff around him. The man stood shook Arthur's hand and introduced himself as he one who sent the letter. He then said he would wait till everyone came. Arthur was not sure he liked that he came under the assumption that he was the only one. But then if the man wanted to be sure about protection he could understand why. He then motioned to a something in the corner or was it someone. Arthur had not noticed them when he came in; they stuck to the background very well. Arthur's hand went to his side but he remembered his sword wasn't there. If there had been an attack Arthur would have had little time to reply. Arthur sat down and waited and soon others came in. He did not note them but kept his eyes on Antonio. Once everyone was seated Antonio spoke. Arthur frowned at what he said. The man had lied to get him here and Arthur did not like that. Mostly because if the man lied about one thing he might be lying about others. So Arthur listened to the rest with slight distrust. Then the man said they could leave if they wanted but no Arthur would stay. He wanted to see what the man really wanted. He did not pay attention if anyone left and then the door closed and the man went on. So the man wanted to hire them because some rival company was cutting into their business. Arthur growled in his throat if that was the job Arthur was not sure. He was a warrior not a street tough. Still if the gold was good Arthur would do it despite his dislike. Besides this might be fun and there might be more jobs forthcoming from the man. Once the man was done Arthur sat there for a moment before saying," If you lied to us about this like you lied to get us here. I will not be happy and you don't want me to be unhappy. Still I will do this but the rewards better be great. I don't fight people because they cut into your business. I will make an exception this time if only because I am willing to take your word on this." He then stood and looked at the others and said," I am sure they have a great deal of protection. I could use some good fighters with me. I am attacking head on after I find out what kind of resistance to expect. " He then turned out of the room and walled into the night. He took out a small token and said to it,” Alright Spy Token tell everything you know about the Wine River Transport Company. Tell me what kind of resistance to expect, weapons, fortifications, magic everything. What would be the best route to attack head on no holds barred". When he got the info he needed he headed back inside. He said," Well the head on assault's no good folks. Any ideas"? Arthur sat down as he said that and looked at the others around him and waited. With newer and better ideas finally stated Arthur would go with the one presented about him being body guard to a lady whou would be acting as noble. He got his gear together decking himself out in all his armaments that he could. He put his sword at his side, his knives in his belt, his admantium armor on, and finally to touch it off a very large sword on his back. He waited by the carriage the person was getting in. He did not say anything when they approached. Once they got Arthur climbed up n the carriage and hung from the side giving him the ability to move his weapons if it was called for. Spoiler: click to toggle
Edited by Arthur, Mon Sep 19, 2016 2:02 am.
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| Glug Photall | Sat Sep 17, 2016 6:35 pm Post #3 |
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A return to Balefire…he couldn’t deny he was tempted. It was true that Glughob, a settlement for goblins who weren’t explicitly “evil” and didn’t want to be explicitly “evil” all the time, was comfortable and filled with his own people; the problem was that sometimes, they could be noisy. Things got crowded sometimes. Plus, in order to go anywhere, he had to make his way to the surface - and that path led directly into the Istan Desert. He sighed, scratching his chin. Balefire was much quieter, at least when he was there. It was nice and dark, too - all the time, not just at night. He liked Balefire. If it weren’t for Glughob, its location a necessity for concealment both from goblin-hunters and from goblin-kin, he might have considered himself a Balefiren and just lived there most of the time. The job was a curious one, though…curious and difficult. It was easy enough to kill a man in prison, he would assume; simply get a message to someone on the inside who could do the job, and then help them escape or get them some kind of benefit thereafter. So why would someone be hired to break into a prison barge and kill a man? It made no sense. He didn’t like it. Oh, he could do the job - it wasn’t a matter of ability. It was a matter of trust. He certainly didn’t mind the work. A little extra gold was always worth the work. The question was…why? Another thing was the reward. The goblins in Glughob knew one thing above all else, the only law that Glug would personally execute another denizen of the underground hide-away over: privacy was king. Glug had founded Glughob after having it carved out by a gnome, who had been all too happy for the work despite not seeming to like Glug at all, and he had sworn the gnome to absolute secrecy; by the same token, the goblins that had been brought to Glughob were sworn to secrecy and were to respect one another’s privacy above all else. Any other disagreements, they could settle among themselves; but Glug would not tolerate a violation of privacy - not in a place that was built on it for everyone’s safety and security. Anyone that was brought here was sworn to secrecy by default as well, of course, so there were very few outsiders who even knew that the place existed, let alone where to find it. As such…when the first half of his reward had been delivered, nobody had dared open the large redwood box. That was good, too, as the letter he’d received thereafter - opened while pondering the strange, locked box - had included a key and a warning about the numerous enchantments placed upon the box and the lock itself. Only the enclosed key could open it. And the contents? It had not been filled with gold, but there was treasure there to be found regardless. The strange statuettes were of pewter etched with gold and bejeweled, and there were artifacts and gems both cut and uncut that were individually worth a small fortune in any given city. There was also the promise of access to an information network, which Glug might or might not use. Eh, who was he kidding? What was a spy or an assassin without information? A chest full of gold wasn’t much of a promise, though; chests came in many shapes and sizes. But he would have a top-notch room complete with all the amenities paid for in advance upon his arrival; the payment would last until the harvest had been completed, which was some time away. Granted, the weather was quickly turning cold and dreary, but Glug knew from what he’d heard from merchants who traveled beyond Istan’s vast wide-spread borders that the harvest upon the Plains still had quite a ways to go before it was completed. It would take another month, perhaps two, and then it would be done. At least, that was the collective understanding for the region. Then again, with the drought this past summer and only a single drenching rain that had lasted a few days, Glug was surprised that the harvest was lasting as long as it usually did. He understood that there was some kind of election going on in Kellen, too, but the farmers certainly wouldn’t care about that, would they? There was likely too much to do with the slow coming of winter. So he would have room, board, and benefits. He would have gold. And there was supposedly another reward - something only alluded to. He would receive it as well when the job was completed, but he wasn’t told what “it” was. That was almost reason enough for him not to take the job…the last time he’d accepted a job without knowing what the reward was, he’d had to make a quick get-away. It was rare, something like that, but it happened. Not everyone subscribed to the idea of an established contract; not everyone could be trusted. Still, he was growing bored. While he didn’t really “manage” Glughob, he did act as its periodic lawman. It was probably ironic to most that a goblin would act as any kind of lawman, but the truth was that many of the goblins in Glughob were still goblins. They might not be bloodthirsty idiots who couldn’t count past three, but neither were they all nice guys you could trust with your children. There were a couple of older goblins who thankfully stepped in when Glug was out, and they often kept the peace even when he was in. He was probably going to his doom. He snorted in derision at that. The Wolf and Swindler…yup. That was the place. Glug pulled his flatbrim down just a little over his head, further shading his face. The cloak he wore now was an article of dark-brown leather, well-cared-for and lined with thick, heavy wool from a black sheep; it kept the chill off well enough as Glug pulled it tight around him. He kept the cloak and cap stowed when he was in Glughob, although the cap did come in handy on the rare occasion when he had to travel through Istan by day; he preferred doing so by night for what should be obvious reasons. They served him well now, marking him as a shadow among shadows. His soft but sturdy boots of equally dark-brown leather made not a sound as he made his way toward the inn. He had recognized the Bridgetongue word for wolf, as he had seen it before, but he was glad that the sign was also printed in Common. It wasn’t unusual to see an inn with the sign printed in multiple languages, but not every inn did that. The typical tavern-and-inn set-up was not what met Glug when he entered. It was nice and warm inside, but the place isn’t at all what Glug expected. It was exactly the kind of place he didn’t belong, actually. He pulled out a cigar as he shrugged open his cloak a little; it would quickly become too warm in here if he kept it up. When a waitress approached him, he said nothing; he simply followed her and stuck the cigar between his lips. He was curious about the eight eyes in her head, but he wasn’t about to mention it; he didn’t want to be rude, after all. Besides, he’d been in places he didn’t “fit” before and met stranger things than presumably pretty girls with eight eyes. The balcony would have been impressive to someone unused to dealing with people like the man now seated before Glug. Glug wasn’t impressed, but neither was he particularly unimpressed. He was indifferent about most things, actually. He shook the man’s hand firmly but briefly. Antonio Krupin with Oxbow Wrightworks…so he owned a wagon business of some kind, most likely. Possibly not. Best not to make assumptions this early. Speaking of early, he was a little early himself; but he’d always felt that if you were on time, you were late. Brushing his cloak aside but not removing it, he revealed the bow that he carried and the many arrows that accompanied it. It wasn’t a threat, of course - just a message: he was ready for whatever might come. Glug didn’t bother to ask if he could smoke; he simply pulled out his striker and lit the cigar his mouth was cradling. He cut all his cigars when he made them, and he only bought the best materials with which to do so. It always surprised people, who took one look at him and figured he probably chewed on cheap cigars and stale whiskey. While he wasn’t high-end enough to drink fine wine, however, he did like a good cigar. He put the striker away as Antonio spoke. There were rumours about men who wore gloves to cover up the sweat on their palms, as sweat made a handshake untrustworthy, but he said nothing about that. He rarely dealt with trustworthy types. Besides, if he crossed Glug, he’d soon find out why that was a really bad idea. Of particular note, though, were the man’s eyes: a wolf’s eyes. Fitting. Glug blinked and then narrowed his eyes. A knight in not-so-shining armour…so Antonio had that kind of protection. Good to know. But what was this about other people? He’d assumed he would be doing this job alone. He felt annoyance beginning to burn in him. He didn’t like working with other people. They were often unorganized, refusing to work together, or they all had an established leader and it usually wasn’t him - and working with other people typically made things far more difficult than was necessary for him to complete his job. He was liking this less and less, but he’d known the general risks when he’d decided to leave Glughob a week ago. He filed away both Antonio and Zuraw’s names in his mind for later. Glug considered the offer of food and drink. If the man had wanted him dead, this was a good way to do it, but the mention of others coming here meant that he probably wasn’t here to kill everyone. Glug ordered a pint of his usual orcish firebrew and cheese-steak sandwich. When people started to show up, he took them in. These weren’t the kinds of people to be killed en masse, and this was too nice a place to have to clean up the bodies. Plus, there weren’t many people around who looked like the type to do so. He ate quickly as others arrived, and then he had his firebrew topped off. Finally, it seemed that everyone was here, and Antonio was ready to start this group meeting at last. So it was that kind of job…the kind of job Glug liked least of all. Not only would he apparently have to work with others, he had been led here under false pretenses and would be taking a job of an even more secretive nature than he was used to. He eyed the man quietly, and then his gaze swept out over the crowd below the balcony. He took a long pull at his firebrew. He had already been paid more than what was necessary for his expenses in coming here, likely an incentive to get him here in the first place. That was to be expected. That was one of the reasons he expected half his payment for a job up front. Another was that he wouldn’t be walking away with nothing if something went wrong. Finally, he turned back to Antonio and nodded curtly. He didn’t raise the brim of his cap, though. So this was about scorchlines…Glug wasn’t entirely certain he trusted them, frankly. Magic being used for something like that…it was too quick, too easy to hijack with little chance of escaping. From what he understood, one could easily be trapped in a scorchliner and then you might as well slit your own throat. Smoke curled into the air above his head. The goblin chewed his cigar a little as he listened to the others, mostly silent. The information provided and the discussion going on around him provided him with no opportunity from afar. The compound was civilian and this wasn't a straight assassination, and getting inside with his weapons would be difficult even while wearing a uniform. He could sneak in, but he'd risk being stuck in a place with no way to move back or forth. What he really needed was a tool case - one large enough to house a bow and his arrows. That wasn't hard to come by, thankfully, but there was another problem as well. "What about sabotage?" he inquired at last. "This place is where they're building their scorchliners, right? Little things can have big changes...misplaced nails, for example - or whatever they're building these things out of. The scorchliner falls apart, or at least doesn't work the way it should. It slows them down. It can also create a distraction, and if done properly, nobody's the wiser. It just looks like an accident." He didn't bother to say that some accidents were tragic. He probably didn't need to. There was the added benefit of distracting guards with a properly completed sabotage attempt, which could open up movement possibilities across the compound and through the building to the safe room. One of the people gathered mentioned that it might not be viable, as they probably hadn’t started actual production yet; someone else mentioned that sabotage should look like an accident. Glug eyed the second one to respond to him. "Thank you, Captain Obvious," he retorted dryly. One quick recap later, someone mentioned an airship for a hasty retreat. That would be useful. Glug preferred to stay on the ground, but he’d take what he could get when there was a need for it. Glug wasn’t the only one who thought sabotage was a good idea, though, and someone else thought of scouting ahead. The goblin nodded. "Krupin here's got uniforms," he said, "so why not?" He shrugged. "I'm as good a spy as any. I'll get a tool case - that'll get whatever I need inside without detection. Then it's just a matter of having a look around. We'll need a plan for passing information, though." The draconic-looking fellow on the other side of the table mentioned fire as a distraction. "Would go well with sabotage, too," Glug said, approving. Fire was always a good distraction. One of the guys who’d spoken up a few moments earlier spoke again, coming up with another solid idea; this one entirely his own - doing the job in phases. The goblin nodded at the one called Keter. "As I said, I can get a tool case and scout about. I'm no talker, though. I say my piece, and people will either listen or not." He shrugged and blew out a long puff of smoke that rose quickly into the air, momentarily obscuring the face that was already partially obscured by his flatbrim. "It'll help if the workers are diverse," he continued. "Means I can move around easier. But either way, information first - then sabotage, if it's safe, and any other actions we think we can get away with. I say play it by ear; loose plans are good. Tighten 'em too much an' you make mistakes - big ones. Can't do this job if we paint ourselves into a corner." And then Keter spoke again, mentioning the folly of spreading themselves too thin. Again, Glug agreed with him. Thus far, this Keter person sounded like the most intelligent among them - except perhaps the engineer who spoke up and then took off. But then again, wisdom was not the same as intelligence. The goblin nodded again. "Exactly. Phases are better. Might take a little longer, but never underestimate the benefits of good intelligence." Taking a barge was mentioned as a possible escape route; that sounded like a good enough plan to Glug. He would have plenty of long-range opportunities from the deck of a barge. Finally, Glug was done with the conversation as well. He was going to scout first and play it by ear. He was decent enough at playing things by ear; he had done so many times in the past. He finished his cigar and his drink, stood, and stretched. "I'll be scouting," he said. "If I see an opportunity to pass information, I'll find a way to do so. The barge sounds like a fine idea to me, so I'll watch for which barge you lot are taking or have taken if it comes to that." The goblin shrugged. "I'm adaptable." And with that, he left as well to get what he needed - a worker's uniform, a tool case, and some tools with which to fill it. When he’d had enough of the conversation and it seemed to have come to a reasonable end, Glug finished his firebrew and his cigar. He thought carefully about what needed to be done, and he spent most of what coin he had brought on a room for a long enough duration that he wouldn’t have to worry about losing his possessions. He made use of the safe in his room for what coins of his remained. It didn’t take him long to procure a few tools and a case in which to carry them, and he hid his bow and all of his arrows very well indeed beneath the tools; between them lay his cloak, and his cap lay atop the tools. The uniform he was able to secure was a little loose but it fit him well enough, and he wasn’t tripping over his own feet in it. He stowed other possessions he didn’t want being found among the hidden weaponry; the guards probably wouldn’t give the case more than a once-over. Tucking his emotion-altering charm beneath his clothing, he popped his joints and headed out into the night. Time to go to work. Edited by Glug Photall, Sun Sep 18, 2016 6:43 pm.
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| Mobster Man | Sat Sep 17, 2016 9:19 pm Post #4 |
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The letter told him he had a simple smash and grab, a simple pick pocketing job to steal the will out of some lawyer's jacket and he would be rewarded with a full sized three tiered ice cream candy cake from Le Cheuffhausen Sweets Shop, my god that kind of cake would cost around seven hundred cascadian notes and you needed to reserve the time to make it years ahead of time because of the Master of the shop was such a perfectionist. Yurim had been so excited that he had actually jumped through a window on the top floor of The Lady's mansion... while he was half naked. He had to return to get healed with some magic and then donned his clothes and armor. He traveled through the shadows, his black leather armor was made to protect his body and make sneaking easier, not that he needed it, but sometimes it did help give him a better edge. His twin daggers sheathed on his lower back were Daggers of Torment, special blades he had stolen long ago. His pale skin was unmarked except for the tattoo of a dragon wrapping around a dagger, which of course was hidden by the leather armor. He wrapped his long flowing scarf tight around his neck, he didn't want anyone trying to steal it again, that and the place he was going to was a fancy lounge bar, one that he didn't much care for. He followed the eight-eyed person to the place his employer was waiting. What followed next made Yurim's eye twitch, the cake was a lie. He wasn't sure if he should jump the table to murder the guy or throw a knife at him. That was when he spoke of the real job... one that piqued his professional interest. Yurim grinned, "This job sounds fun. I'll forgive you for lying to me, you have no idea how much I wanted that cake. So lets get to the planning." ______________________________________________________________________ Yurim had to change into the uniform and sent a messenger for some of his Lady's thugs to pick up his armor. He couldn't risk the black armor showing to much, didn't want to rouse suspicion. He took up what he needed and rolled his shoulders, this was gonna get interesting. He made sure his daggers were hidden on his person along with three shuriken, and his scarf wrapped around his body beneath the uniform. He followed the woman called 'Lorica' to steal the boat. He could easily go through the shadows on the boat. He would move with Lorica, when she entered the boat he would walk through the nearest shadow and appear as close to her as he could. He would do his best to remain hidden, he didn't want to screw this up at step one. Edited by Mobster Man, Mon Sep 19, 2016 8:43 pm.
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| Alexandra | Sun Sep 18, 2016 12:12 am Post #5 |
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Sophie Marne flitted about her blushing sister, making final adjustments to the dress that would headline her collection. Alex tried not to feel like a piece of meat, but she felt like a piece of meat. "Sophie, can you...please get the model? I'm here because you needed someone to build and maintain your golemized stage, not because I've got your looks." Alex suggested. Sophie shook her head. "Miva Tohanna would bill me thirty gold for this little check. Your body is close enough to Miva's, if not a little bit...more, that it'll work. It looks better on you, honestly. You sure you don't want to pick up three hundred gold tomorrow night?" Sophie asked, to which Alex responded with a quick shake of her head. "No fame for my little sister? What do you think of Balefire? You like it at least, right?" Alex looked out at the city through a humongous double-pane window. A clock tower rose in the distance alongside a handful of spikes reaching up into the clouds. "This part of Balefire is nice. It reminds me of home, but with more people who look at me like I'm a snack. And not the good sort of snack." Sophie laughed and then let her sister free herself from the low-cut blue dress. Alex put her clothing back on, a quick and narrow white tunic that left her light, olive shoulders and arms bare with more than a sliver of her bust exposed. A knee-length skirt hung low on her wide hips. Her wavey, immaculate light blonde hair was offset by brilliant red eyes. Runes, so faint as to be invisible, lined her skin. "Most people comment about the cold." Sophie hung the dress back up. "Could you nip on over and pick up our food? You've got about fifteen minutes, I nearly forgot and I couldn't send Mira off to do it." The Balefiran timekeeping method was not foreign to Alex. It was relied upon by every engineering group in Cascadia and she suspected the world. She scurried to the elevator and made her way down. Everything her sister bought for food was better than anything Alex had eaten in since the last time Sophie had been home. She hopped onto a loaner Runner at the ground level and went buzzing down the street. As she went to go into the restaurant, she was stopped. A letter was forced into her hand. The figure disappeared into the night. A. Marne, Your sister is in danger, but she doesn't have to be. Head to this area of the city. Do the job using your particular expertise. Keep your sister safe. We know who you are. We know what you've worked on. Scorchliners have used some of the technology your department finalized. Alex paled, at least as much as she could. She tossed money into the hands of a boy on the street along with the food, minus half a steak. "Go to the Azkran building. Deliver this food to Sophie Marne - it has her name on it. Tell her I'll be home late, I've found an engineering opportunity. The second portion is yours." Her eyes fell upon him. "This is important, please do it for me." The boy ran off. Alex disappeared onto the streets of Balefire. She arrived at the meeting place and was ushered in side. Her clothing was damp, but for all the world she didn't look like she had just crossed through Balefire. Not an ounce of chill found her. "I'll take food. I just want some..." Alex paused. Exotic? "...steak and mashed potatoes. I think I'm going to need it tonight." She listened quietly to the others, then mustered her confidence that had dwindled during the talks. This needed to go quickly, and she needed it to harm as few people as possible. Scorchliners probably had good enough structures to protect the crew during a roll-over. Her mind flitted back to the doubtlessly confused if not panicked Sophie. She hoped her sister's big show would work out for her, and that her sister wouldn't be harmed. Hopefully, she'd be back before the night was over. "I'm an engineer as Mr. Krupin doubtlessly knows already. I'll take one of their freightliners and sabotage the stabilizing system by putting an old runic frequency error back into the system they are doubtlessly using. Three million rotations in which is about fifteen miles at the speed a scorchliner moves and it'll fail catastrophically. It'll tumble and litter the whole scorchline with bits. It'll make a good news story. I just have to get close." Alex adjusted the mechanik's uniform she wore. She rechecked her chest binding - she wanted to look unremarkable - and quickly rubbed various itchy bits of her face while her scorchliner grease blackened hands. She turned to look at Zuraw as she adjusted her mechanic's flat cap downward. "Just keep close enough that you can bail me out if things go south. And they will, I don't know a damn word of Bridgetongue but I can get my Cascadian pretty rough." Alex broke away from Zuraw and worked up some false confidence - the sort any worker who wanted to act like a bigshot would make - and introduced herself to the gate guards. "I'm here from the Cascadian-Balefire route. I heard you guys needed a few more arcane techs to get you through the bid." If she was allowed through, Alex would move straight on to working on the first freightliner scheduled to move out. The process to introduce the old error back in would only take a half-moment between making actual checks to the stabilizer, and she doubted scorchline mechaniks would be aware of it. Itivari had fixed it on the prototype before it was considered for Scorchliner use. |
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| Lorica | Sun Sep 18, 2016 4:51 pm Post #6 |
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“Go ahead, tell them what you said to me!” The werewolf was wearing a tailored waistcoat of ebony fabric with silver trim. He was in his hybrid form, body covered with a coarse pelt of black hair. The collar of his shirt had been tugged loose, the ends of his bowties hanging loose and untied. He had a drink in his own hand, a pewter mug that sloshed dark liquid with every exuberant gesture. Lorica grit her teeth. Her fingers spasmed on the tumbler, knuckles white. She let out a long slow breath and tilted the glass back, sipping the whiskey inside. It was top-shelf, smoky and exquisitely flavored. It was far more expensive than the swill she could afford, and that was just about all that kept her from throwing it in the man’s face. “Sure thing.” She paused dramatically before repeating the line, avoiding rolling her eyes only with a great effort. “I’m human.” Gathered around the wolf-man was a crowd of nonhumans in similarly dapper attire: vampires, ghouls, werecreatures, and others of such ilk. They burst out laughing one and all, peals of amusement cutting through the natural din of the Wolf and Swindler. The raucous outburst drew some stares, but it wasn’t disruptive enough to get any of them thrown out of the tavern. More’s the pity. Lorica grimaced and gave the bartender an infuriated look. The woman smiled, revealing golden teeth, jagged as the edge of a saw blade. She swept down the length of the bar. “Now, now, Harlon, there’s no need to pick on her. How about you let the girl enjoy her drink in peace?” The werewolf and his coterie withdrew their attention, the conversation shifting into the slippery slang of Bridgetongue. Lorica rolled her eyes and took another drink of the whiskey, a ‘gift’ from Harlon for amusing him. The bartender returned to her spot near the Keeper, filling a mug with the ale she’d been drinking before the interruption and sliding it to her. “What was that about?” “Can you blame them, dearie? You’re not doing a very good job of pretending to be human.” Lorica started. “Excuse me?” “Look at your body language. It’s all wrong.” The bartender gave her an appraising look, two of her four eyes closing. Clearly seeing that Lorica didn’t understand the woman sighed and bent her knees so she appeared to be sitting, mirroring Lorica’s posture. “You’re leaning forward, not back. Shoulders straight, proud. You keep your chin up. Your look straight at people instead of glancing out of the corner of your eye. You don’t speak softly or carefully. It’s not prey behavior, dearie.” The server met her eyes for a second then straightened, returning to her original behavior. “You’re a predator. In Balefire, that either means you’re not human… or an idiot.” The former Keeper nodded. “That makes sense. Thank you.” Lorica polished off the fine whiskey and switched back to the dark, bitter beer. The mug was nearly empty before she spotted someone she knew across the dance floor. Lorica grinned and slapped some crumpled Cascadian notes on the counter, pushing off the stool and winding her way across the dance floor. “Anci! What are you doing in Balefire?” She draped one arm around the person’s shoulders. The Sulerian flinched at Lore's contact. “Oh! Sorry.” Anci looked worse for wear from the last time they had met. Dark circles lined her eyes, her posture was slumped. ”I was looking for Aufdein, but I need...cascadian notes.” She spoke the word slowly, deliberately. ”What about you?” “Aufdein?” The name was vaguely familiar. Had she seen it on one of the placards nailed up outside the tavern? Lorica mentally shrugged and answered the question. “I actually got a job offer. Pretty basic collection work… but they promised me some information. About…” She glanced around and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “About the Keepers, you know? They said they had some new intel for me. This is where I’m supposed to meet the hiring official.” She pulled out the letter in her free hand and showed it to them. “I thought it was worth checking out.” Anci took the letter in hand and look it over. A confused expression crossed her face as she pulled out a crumpled and stained letter from the folds of her clothing. The language it was written in was different, but the penmanship was the same. “I'm also here because of a job offer. Protection for a lot of those notes and a meeting with Aufdein himself.” She was silent for a moment. “This is another Balefire Welcome, is it not?” Lorica examined the letters herself. Her expression darkened. “You could say that, if you were feeling polite.” She looked up at the balcony where their ‘employer’ waited, eyes cold. “I would straight-up call it a scam.” She crushed her letter into a ball and jammed it in one pocket. “Let’s go see who thinks they can pull one over on us.” Anci let out a tired sigh. “Here I was hoping something had gone right for once in this city.” She shook her head and rolled back her shoulders under her coat. “Maybe a little easy on the force here, there might be some notes still.” “Hey, it hurts that you’d say that, Braids! When have I ever been forceful?” Lorica smiled, wide and toothy; a predator’s grin. Lorica toyed with a knife as their host introduced himself, picking at her nails with the tip of the blade as he explained the necessity of the deception. She had to admit it was tempting to just stand up and walk out… but where was the fun in that? Staying would earn her some juicy information, so juicy that this Krupin fellow wasn’t willing to trust putting them down on ink and paper. If nothing else she could blackmail him with the information later and find out how he knew about the Keepers at all, much less who she was. Throughout the recruitment spiel and the discussion that followed she kept finding her eyes drawn to the silent woman in armor: Sir Zuraw. At first she didn’t know why she kept staring at the knight. She hardly contributed, as might be expected from someone who had taken a vow of silence, but there were ways to be noticed without speaking. Zuraw avoided them. In fact, she avoided anything that would draw attention to herself. She was meek. Every time someone moved too quickly near her she flinched. When her name was mentioned she didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t look up, didn’t react. More importantly, she didn’t give anyone else a reason to react to her in kind. She very plainly, desperately, didn’t want anyone to focus on her. Lorica felt her gut plummet. There was a bitter taste in her mouth. It was like looking into a window to the past. No, it was more like looking into a different world: one where Lucius had never saved her from Marcus. It made her want to find Krupin and introduce him to her fists. The anger swelled up within her… and received a response from somewhere else. Something coiled around her soul, an insidious presence. It didn’t manifest as anything so overt as a voice, but she could guess at its intentions. It was an offer: knowledge for knowledge. [removed] it. Lorica touched the Ethereal, offering it knowledge. More specifically, memories: her time with Marcus and his gang, her treatment at their hands. How she had planted a knife in that [removed]er's eye, stabbed it deep. There, you happy? Is that what you want? Apparently it was. The knowledge hammered into her skull. Lorica winced, closing her eyes. Like anything, it came at a cost. It took her a few minutes to recover, distracted from the subject at hand. People were prattling on about different methods of infiltrating the Wine River headquarters and defacing the company’s good name. There was a great deal of disagreement on the best course of action. Lorica watched the proceedings without really contributing, only speaking up once to suggest that double-crossing Krupin wasn’t a good idea. When Zuraw got dragged into the conversation she watched the knight intently, although she didn’t interact with her directly. “I’ll be frank: all this talk of sneaking into their stronghold doesn’t sound appealing to me. The barges are more my kind of party. If we take control of one, I think it’d make for a good getaway. Less thugs on the river, you know? Especially if someone triggers the alarms. Just let me know what time you want this to go down. We'll take one of the barges and saunter up to their docks, all casual-like.” She stood up. “Any of you are welcome to join me, so long as you promise to not [removed] it up. I can put any of you in the river if need be.” She delivered the jibe with a particular intensity in Tian’s direction, as if reminded the man of a past argument. She’d never appreciated the phrase ‘as cold as a Balefire winter’ until she actually spent some time in the city. Her breath plumed in the air, drifting up over her mask and flatbrim. She’d borrowed a Wine River disguise to hopefully avoid any undue suspicion. It didn’t fit very well, but the extra folds in the cloth helped hide the bulge of the various sharp implements hidden underneath. Lorica cupped her hands, inhaling into them in a futile effort to warm them up. She was on the opposite bank of the river from the company headquarters and docks. The place was lit up like a beacon, lanterns and lamps illuminating nearly every inch of the yard. People were everywhere, engineers and couriers and thugs. She didn’t envy the poor fools who were going to try to sneak in there. It honestly seemed like a suicide mission to her, which was the main reason she hadn’t volunteered for that particular task. She’d been out here half the night (or day, whatever, it was hard to tell in this damned place), keeping an eye on the barges floating up and down the river. They navigated the ice floes with ease, breaking up the frozen chunks with their bows so that men with poles could push the smaller pieces out of their way. There were so many vehicles docking, unloading, resupplying, and departing that she was amazed there weren’t more accidents. It all functioned like well-oiled clockwork, operating on a time table she wasn’t privy to. Lorica ducked around the corner to the rest of the members of her group. “Alright. We do this smart.” She pulled out a long-bladed dagger, absentmindedly flipping it in one hand as she talked. “I can get myself on-board fairly easily, but just me. If anyone else has a way to get on a barge without notifying every guard in sight, feel free to use it. Hold off until the time is right.” Her plan was simple: at the proper time, she’d throw the dagger into the hull of an incoming barge and use its enchantment to teleport to the ship. She was hoping that the perpetual gloom would help hide the maneuver from sight, plus she planned on targeting the vessel with the least visible crew to decrease the chances of detection. From there she should be able to climb on board and simply hide amongst the cargo until it was about to dock. The influx of Wine River employees to help offload the supplies should allow her to slip out of hiding and join in with the crowd. What happened next would depend on the others. If they kept it quiet she’d slip away as soon as the opportunity presented itself. If they didn’t… well then the fun would begin. And to think that Anci thought I was too forceful. Aloud, she said, “Let’s do this.” Edited by Lorica, Sun Sep 18, 2016 5:06 pm.
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| Tian | Sun Sep 18, 2016 6:41 pm Post #7 |
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"I wish you would stop doing that. It would make my work a little easier." Tian eyed the company healer sideways, and then flipped another knife so that he held the blade. With a fluid motion, he chucked the thing into the wall opposite him, completing the ghastly steel visage of a smiling face. He gave Hedge one of his patented smiles, the kind that made women run for the nearest blunt instrument, and then was still. She went to work sewing up the slash in his arm with perhaps a little more vigor than was strictly speaking necessary, muttering under her breath the entire time. If it was supposed to hurt, he didn't appear to notice. You know, you are too up tight all of the time, Hedge. You should try this thing- no, no, hear me out! Its called relaxing. You'll live a lot longer if you practice it. He grinned widely when her head shot up, fixing him with a wide-eyed stare of absolute fury. "Right, because relaxing is what you do all the time!" The words were delivered in a shout. "How many times do I have to sew your stinking ass up, dear?" She tied off what she had been working on, and then stood, planting her fists on her hips. Well, if people would stop trying to stick pointy bits of metal into me, I wouldn't require your services so often. "Maybe its your charming personality!" she retorted acidly, before storming out of the room, slamming the door. One of these days I am going to bait her too much, and she is going to bury that scalpel of her is my heart. If she could find it. His heart. That worthy had been atrophied for longer than he cared to think. These days, he only found enjoyment in taunting people - preferably armed and dangerous people - and not much in anything else. The reasons were buried deep, of course. Specters of the past were unwelcome in his life, for all that he sought one particular ghost among all the others with a passion bordering on obsession. The one-time assassin sat up in his chair, and looked at the wound on his arm. The bastard had got lucky. Well, up to that point he had been; shortly after, he had been a corpse. It was another lead ending in a dead end (HAH!), and the leads that he gathered were very few and far between. How in the [removed] did one go about hunting down an adversary that could very well already be dead, and if he wasn't, the crime that had been committed was nearly a thousand years ago? Well, most sane people would have left it lie. Tian was under no illusion that he was sane. A knock on the door, and then the knocker stepped into the room. Tian stood hastily, saluting fist to chest as the Commander of the Company stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. She was dressed in her traditional clothing; gleaming chain over leather, with that beastly sword on her back. Commander, he said as he bowed mockingly. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Another job? I need a day to recover, yet. The woman looked at him with that achingly beautiful face. Just looked, and if a look could have driven nails, this one would have him hammered to the wall, dangling by his shoulders. Yes, another job. But not one offered to the Company. This came for you, specifically. She indicated the letter in her hand, and then grimaced with distaste. It was a [removed]ing werewolf. The bastard had the audacity to leer at me. I don't know if he was trying to decide if I would be a tasty morsel, and in what way he might be thinking it. I sent him along with a welted rump. She thrust the paper at him, and then stood there expectantly. Tian snatched it from his boss, and opened it with a knife. The letter inside was on fine paper, and the handwriting meticulous. He stood in silence as he read it, then shook his head, and read it again. Wordlessly, he handed it to Aeyliea, whom snatched it with equal rudeness as he had displayed. Her face remained impassive as she read it. You will not do this thing, Tian. was all she said as she finished, crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it on the floor. She looked up, and at him. I forbid it. You know that place is mired in deceit and treachery up to its eyeballs. Decent people don't need to go there. And whoever said I was decent, Aeyliea? What do you really know about me, other than what little I have told you? And do you even know if that is truth? He shook his head. They offer me something I want, Commander. Want very badly. Why shouldn't I go? He was offering up token resistance, of course. He had to make sure that she thought he was arguing and that she could talk him around to her way of thinking. It didn't matter what she said, of course. He would happily ignore her direct orders if it came down to it. We know of someone that might interest you very much, the letter had said. Someone whom might know about someone else that is, shall we say, of great interest to you. What did they know? Who could possibly know beyond him? The whole thing smelled of a trap; the assassin had kept his innermost desires well hidden from anyone who knew him. To everyone, he was just a smart-mouthed idiot that happened to be a very good scout, or a decent assassin. Even the Commander did not know the full truth about him. Ascended. He grimaced at the thought. Because I said so. We don't need to be caught up in the bullshit the Alliance spews. There was a reason I pulled all of our chapter houses out of those three nations, Tian. There is a reason I refuse to do business with any of them. Because what they did stings so much, doesn't it Aeyliea? It feels like home. This time, though, it wasn't your home that was destroyed, taken by an outside power? But...if they know anything aty all- Its a gods damned lie, all right? All of them are bad, but Balefire? The worst sort of place. She looked at him, a hard look. The look of someone unaccustomed to being disobeyed. You will not go there. That is final. In fact, I don't trust you not to go anyway, so I will set a watch on you. You are valuable to this company, Tian. Don't go and get involved in something that is nothing to do with you, or us. He looked at her for a moment, and then looked down. Yes, Commander. Watched? HAH! We'll see about that... It had been a long time since he accepted an offer to kill a man. A very long time, in fact. Oh, he had killed plenty of people since that last mark, but this was specifically an assassination attempt. Unfortunately, Tian didn't trust a single word of that letter he had received. It had been hand tailored to get his attention, to draw him in like a moth to a flame. It spoke of a deeply personal level of knowledge, something he was unsure anyone still living had. If it wasn't for the fact that there was a chance - even a small chance - that they might have someone that could finally allow him to break the cold, dead trail he had been sniffing at for years... ...well, then deception was warranted. If there was any deception, of course. Tian was a very, very suspicious person though. It came with the trade, of course. Tian was reminded, once again, about how out of place he was in Balefire. This was the City of Lanterns, but more importantly, it was the city of not humans. He would not, at least in his current situation, back down from any of the creatures that walked its streets, looking at him as if he were a morsel to be savored, or else like a curiosity. He had already disabused many of these bastards if the first notion, but the second was far more pervasive and much more difficult to remedy. And that was, of course, assuming he wanted to remedy it. Let them think him weak, a poor human fighting against unspeakable odds. If any acted on it, he would cut their damned head off and shit down their throat. He is unsurprised by the locale of the meeting point. It oozes a certain sense of affluence that is in keeping with his memory of various clients in the past. The lack of humans is noticeable, but doesn't bother him overly much. Breath misting as he moved through the street, he nevertheless projects an air of confidence and belonging. He is a part of this place, and he wants everyone to know it. The dark cloakflutters behind him as he moves. The Wolf and the Swindler meet his expectation as well, the kind of place he would go to if he didn't possess a brain. These places were not for him, beyond meeting with contacts and clients. His preferred locale was dives and hells, places where the true blood of a city would flow through, and occasionally out. He notes the werewolves eyeing him, and gives them an insolent grin and a mocking bow. The hostess is a treat, of course, something he could easily cuddle with if it weren't for the eight eyes. She ushers him upstairs, showing respect for him that is a touch undue. He had half a mind to whisper something flattering into her ear on passing by, but refrained from it. He needed to keep his mind on this job, and nothing else. A fine meeting in a fine meeting place, Antonio. You already know my name, and quite a bit more it would seem. Alas, I prefer to stand. He then does exactly that, moving towards the corner nearest Zuraw, leaning against the wall and eyeballing the room. Everyone gets here? That's funny, since when do assassins work with a team? His face betrayed nothing of what he thought, of course. He stood ready for, well, anything. Once everyone had arrived, the moment of truth came. Well, its not as if I didn't call that, he thought to himself, and sat down to listen. The uniform was a perfect fit. Which was great, even though he felt ill at ease leaving behind his armor. It wasn't that he felt unprotected without it, so much as the dark attire was as much a part of him as his legs and feet. Fortunately, though, this was far from the first time he had ever had to assume a role to get something he wanted. Tian examined himself one more time. He looked like what he was supposed to: a Wine River employee, a human, a courier. Choosing to act out that particular role would give more access to different parts of the complex. And, in any case, if it came down to needing to sneak, he certainly had the skill set for it. He was a godsdamned assassin. It wasn't as if any of those people had ever left the front porch torch burning for him, and the door unlocked at that. At first he had entertained the notion of teamwork on this particular project, but his confidence in the people that Krupin had brought along was fairly low. The only one he felt reasonably sure of was Lorica, and well....Lorica had her own problems. Then again, so did he. He was entirely too willing to solve a problem but cutting its head off, and this was something he could absolutely not do here. In and out; hello and goodbye. He intended to slip into their headquarters and back out again without ruffling so much as a single furry pelt while he was at it. And so, I shall go forth and infiltrate. Who am I? I am a courier, recently hired. I need to get these documents down to engineering. He flourished the papers he had gathered. They looked suitably authentic that they would pass a casual scrutiny and maybe even further scrutiny. Just not scrutiny from an actual arcanotechnical engineer. I am wary but confident that I belong here. Careful, because I am just a human being and don't want to get on the wrong side of anyone. That was almost as important as anything else. Just wearing a uniform for this company was not enough. He needed to belong there. He could explain away getting lost or any other minor issue with the cover story of being a new hire, but if he did this right no one would ask him anything, or would even talk to him unless he asked them a question first. As an absolute last resort, of course, there were his knives. But even if it should come to that, he might be able to avoid any further notice and simply disappear before having to slit any throats. He would likely have to rely on those talents once he got close to his destination, because no courier would be permitted into such parts of that complex. Thank god for old habits, and other people dying hard. <Well, its time to see if I can play pretend at being a dutiful employee while I try to steal some documents. Not exactly a standard day at the office, is it? Only, in this line of work, there are no normal days at the office.> me muttered to himself in Bridgetongue. He still had to wonder, as he left, which of the others were going to bring the house of cards down. Edited by Tian, Sun Sep 18, 2016 6:43 pm.
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| Tanya | Sun Sep 18, 2016 7:04 pm Post #8 |
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Tanya perused the letter again, though by this point she knew every word of it by heart. Finding it still unchanged, she set it aside and called out to the next room. "Scrubknot, what do you think of this offer?" A short goblin shuffled around the corner and looked at her. "What offer, Madame Tanya?" Tanya sighed, placing the letter back on the corner of her desk. "Don't mess around, Miss Greenhorn. I know you read every document that passes through here, even the ones that are clearly part of my private mail. What did you think of it?" Scrubknot shrugged. "It didn't seem that private. The envelope ripped right open. But it looks too good to be true to me." A faint sound of running water filled the ensuing silence. Even this far from the edge, Cascadia's waterfalls could always be heard. At last, Madame Tanya tossed the paper aside. "But it could be. There's a chance." "There's always a chance. Doesn't mean it's a good idea. You'd be risking your life." Madame Tanya stood up, knocking her chair backwards. Veins pulsed in her neck "And if I stay here I'm not risking it because my death is guaranteed!" Scrubknot shrunk back. It was rare for her boss to lose her temper like that. "You're sure you're doing the right thing?" Madame Tanya's breathing eased. She returned to her seat. "No. Very probably I'm doing the wrong thing. But if there's any chance my work could help this Balefiren crew complete a true immortality elixir, the odds can't be long enough to stop me, especially when my pay is a full beaker. Besides, I hear Mr. Aufdein Korso has finally returned to Imythess. It's about time I met him." Scrubknot's shoulders slumped. "Will you at least bring Caelum along with you?" "Of course. I'll bring Caedis, too, and keep Nazareth ready for an extraction. I don't have a death wish. Quite the opposite." Nazareth spun the rudder in a full circle and briefly gunned the engines, sending the ship shuddering to an abrupt stop and all of its occupants tumbling to the floor in a mass of assorted limbs--though Madame Tanya was enough for a mass of assorted limbs all on her own. "We're here!" Tanya extracted herself from the pile. "Thank you, Nazareth, for the smooth and restful journey." The demon grinned. "If you wanted smooth and restful, you should've hired your grandma. I'm the finest pilot ever to set foot in an airship." Caedis hunched to his feet, snickering. "Which is why most of the ship's functions are handled by the bird, is that it?" Nazareth glared at his enkaida copilot. "It's not like I need it. I've told you that, Tanya, it just gets in my way." "Madame Tanya. And yes, I've noticed that. As a matter of fact, it getting in your way is most of why it's such a good investment. There was a part of the flight where it got in your way so much that I nearly thought we'd make it here in one piece." She left the ship, Caelum and Caedis trailing behind her. Caelum looked sick, as he always did after Nazareth's flights, and Caedis tried to inspect every shadow they passed, which in the City of Darkness was an excercise in futility. Balefire was his hometown. For vampires, a hometown wasn't a safe place. It's the place where their first enemies had been made. Neither relaxed much in the few days between their touchdown and their first meeting with the employer. They inspected Mr. Korso's wares and got a feel for the area, but didn't get in touch with any of their regular contacts. Keeping a low profile was a high priority. Madame Tanya spent most of her time training, both her combat ability and her alchemy skills. Whether this was a trap or the chance she'd spent her entire life waiting for, she'd be prepared. As it turned out, it was neither. Tanya and her employees arrived almost half an hour before the meeting began. Tanya spent the time availing herself of the various delicacies that were made available. Neither of her companions ate--Caelum was too nervous and Caedis had a very particular diet. When Antonio Krupin explained his deceit, Tanya's stance and that of each of her companions shifted, but what followed was not the ambush they expected. Instead, they received another job offer, this one more mysterious but less promising. Madame Tanya straightened her posture and scowled at Mr. Krupin, but stayed in her seat. There was nothing to be gained by leaving now. After receiving the details, Tanya stepped outside and discussed strategy with the others. A few differnt proposals were offered. She crossed her arms. "I don't think this is a good time to back more than one horse. If we leave evidence, the sheriffs will have good reason to believe that the operation was mounted by someone hostile to them. Our employer is the only one with motive, so at best it will turn public opinion as much against them as against our target." "That said, those schematics could be an extreme asset to our employer, and I'm not above double-charging, especially considering the methods through which they got us here. So here's my proposal: break into HQ and replace the schematics with the false documents. Then we go to the Sheriffs and tell them about it. It'll set all of the hype Wine River has made about their daring new solution against them, and we'll be able to sell the schematics to Oxbow Wrightworks. "Towards that end, here's what I have to offer: Caedis is trained to move silently and stick to the shadows. I've got an airship waiting a short distance outside the city that can move much faster than any wagon, although it can only has room for three of us. And if we want to lure the Sheriffs, I can feed them a sob story about trying to foil Wine River's plot against us. I'm sure some of you are better speakers than I am, but I'm willing to arrive with half my arm missing - cut off in a desperate attempt to escape and warn them of the plot. Might add a touch of verisimilitude." "Oh, and let's bring along this Black Knight. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. If she never speaks, she's not a liability." She fell silent until someone brought up the prospect of deliberately drawing the public's eye to their break-in. "I'm still of the opinion that we should draw as little attention as possible. Some distractions may be necessary, but any disturbance we make is an opportunity for our enemy to divert the blame." A plan began to form: one team would sabotage the scorchlines, the other would break into HQ. "The sabotage will likely seem suspicious if there's no obvious cause. If you get a chance, try to make it look like the scorchliners' destruction had something to do with the plot against the Marquise - either an attempt to weaponise them gone wrong, or retribution from her agents. That way, we won't just be setting back their production, we'll also be damning them in the eyes of the Lords. Caedis, go with and the saboteurs and aid them with their infiltration. Try to guide them away from any goon troupes." "You got it." The vampire turned away and gave an exaggerated bow. "If you'll have me?" "Caelum, you hang back. We'll call you if we need you." "Are you sure? I don't want you wandering around here without protection." "I'll shouldn't need protection." Tanya holds up a small, unlabeled bottle of liquid. "I'm too easily recognizable as it is. But people don't pay much attention to flies. I'll drink this, buzz down to HQ, and see what I can find." As her two companions split off, she warned the others, "Remember our objective: Damage their reputation. That's the job. If it doesn't serve that objective, we're not getting paid to do it." Lorica suggested that she shouldn't have mentioned her plan to double-charge Oxbow around Zuraw. Tanya caught her eye and nodded thoughtfully. "That's an interesting idea. I don't imagine the disclosure of that particular tidbit should be too much of a risk - we'll still be completing the job, so the schematics are just an added bonus. But you think Mr. Krupin might have been lying to us about Sir Zuraw's muteness as well as the nature of our employ?" She turned to the silent observer. "It's an interesting question, isn't it, Black Knight? I wonder how you ended up as part of Mr. Krupin's roster." Zuraw shook her head fearfully. "Are you able to write, Sir Zuraw? Is that also forbidden by your vow?" Zuraw nodded. Alexander tried to intervene in the questioning, but Tanya ignored her, chuckling. "All right, that one was my own fault. I asked two questions with opposite answers. If you are able to write, would you kindly give us a little more information about yourself? How you came to work with Oxbow and why you stick with them, the motivation behind your vow of silence, and what it means to be a half-human who can't shift, for example. Or if you have any ideas you'd like to share, we'd be happy to read them." She passed over a quill and a scrap of paper. She looked over her shoulder at Alexandra. "She's worked against Wine River longer than any of us. I think she's worth listening to." Zuraw's body language was nervous, but she obeyed Tanya anyway. I follow him because he is the strongest. Please no more on that. I am silent because that is what I became. Please no more on that. I am half-werewolf, but I am more than a dog because that is what I became. My advice is do what you are told and do not make mistakes and do not make him angry. I am not good for plans. I am too stupid for plans. Tanya let out a sharp exhalation of breath at the last item on Zuraw's list. "I see. Please continue to pass on any information you think might be useful. You will never be punished or scolded for passing on information, even if it doesn't turn out to be useful. Thank you." She turned away as Alexandra intervened, returning to the group. "That's an interesting side-note, isn't it? I'm still willing to do this job and get paid, but it seems Antonio Krupin isn't the most magnanimous of employers. Let's not rely on him to bail us out if we get in a scrape, yes?" Readying her potions, she left and headed down to the headquarters. She stopped a short distance away and took a downed her polymorph potion. It tasted foul, and the transformation hurt like hell, but its effects were immediate. She shrunk rapidly, her vision split over and over again, and she grew an extra pair of legs and a pair of wings. When the transformation was complete, a tiny fly buzzed circles around Madame Tanya's empty robes. Now, the squadrons of bruisers were less of a danger than a housekeeper with a flyswatter. She entered the facility, buzzing along behind Tian. The upside of her fly form was that she could slip through tiny cracks, go unnoticed, and gather information even the most experienced spy couldn't do at normal size. The downside was doors. They were a lot harder to open when the doorknob was almost a hundred times larger than the person doing the opening. If Tian found a spot he was forbidden from exploring, she could split off and investigate on her own. For the time being, he would provide a decent cover. And she always had the option of buzzing off and completing the job on her own if he got caught. Caedis accompanied the saboteurs to the warehouse, but kept his distance when they went in. More people on the inside just meant more chances to get caught, but a good sentry could salvage the operation. He blended into the shadows and kept an eye out for any signs of an alert. OOC
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| Carmen | Sun Sep 18, 2016 9:05 pm Post #9 |
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The letter had come in the dead of night; slipped under her door while she slept, giving no hope of questioning its deliverer. What was written inside gave Carmen chills. The job proposed was openly hostile to her family business, the Castile Winery, and while the letter did not address her by her family name, Carmen had to wonder if the author knew who she was. She had already settled on finding Mr. Krupin when her eyes drifted to the meeting address. Balefire. Her heart sank. She had not visited the city of perpetual night since she and Zolero fled some months ago. Their time there had been far from pleasant, and had ended with Carmen taking not only her first life, but many in succession. Going to Balefire would be dangerous. Carmen was confident that her involvement with the murders was not well known, but it would only take one witness to recognize her and she would spend the rest of her life in a dungeon, or on a quick march to the gallows. Her human heritage would do her no favors either, but at least she was half-elven, and not instantly a morsel to be gobbled up. She folded the letter, slipped it back into its envelope, and headed to the common room of the inn. A wench, who knew Carmen's expensive taste, set a goblet down for her and poured ruby liquid from a decanter. Carmen passed her some coins, lifted her cup to take in the aroma, and gagged. "What is this?" she demanded, her eyes ablaze. "Where did it come from?" The scent of her father's wine was unmistakable. "Begging your pardon, madam. The cask was just delivered last night, by the same messenger who brought your missive. It was marked for you. I. . . I thought you had it sent here." "Pour it in the gutter," Carmen said as she went to gather her belongings. The letter lay folded in front of Carmen on the table. It had asked for her help in a mission too tempting to ignore; disrupting the commercial operations of the Castile Winery to topple it from its throne. She'd had countless questions, and could only conclude that the writer either knew who she was, or was himself an agent of Count Castile. For the time being, her questions had to be left unspoken, and the mystery unsolved; there were far too many ears in this room. She stayed not because she wanted the money from the 'true' job, but because she wanted her answers. That, and she had reason to believe her father was invested in the Wine River Transport Company. Hurting their business would hurt him in turn. "The obvious course," she said, after listening to Tian and nodding in thanks for his input, "is to use the disguises, infiltrate the headquarters, distract the employees and guards, plant the forged documents and escape in the wagon. If we do this, we need a reason to get the sheriffs to search the property and find the evidence we've planted." She folded her hands on the table in front of her, eyes sweeping the room. "Perhaps there are other ideas we can use, or other skills you have brought to this table. Let us talk freely. Only open discussion will lead to the best plan of action." The rest of the discussion felt like trying to make two like-sided magnets meet. The concept of working together felt altogether foreign to the men and woman Krupin had gathered. What, exactly, had possessed him to invite this particular group remained to be seen. Despite her trepidation, she had to stay, if only to learn how Krupin had come to write what he did in her letter, and send along that cask of Castile wine. The plans were as diverse as the crowd in the room, and no two aligned particularly well with the others. The disorder gave her trepidation, but there was no time to dawdle, if the dark lady knight was to be believed. Carmen had to move forward with her plan, while everyone else moved forward with theirs. She penned a letter to the Wine River Transport Company, written as though an aspiring Lord of Balefire was considering a heavy investment in their corporation. In the message she asked to be granted a tour of their headquarters and an audience with their administration. Wine River hadn't yet been granted full contract, the competition was still on, and Carmen hoped that they would still be receptive to the prospect of a new influx of coin. She signed the letter Lucius Goldleaf Esq. and paid a runner for its delivery. It was early afternoon the following day when Carmen was putting the finishing touches on her veneer. Her spell had disguised her as a full-blooded elf. She appeared as a lanky man with pallid skin, bony fingers and squinty, calculating eyes. Pitch-black hair tied was in three knots atop his head and cascading down like a waterfall of ink that ended at the small of his back. Beyond what the magic provided, Carmen's costume was a toga of ornate green silk, cut from a dress she'd been forced to sacrifice, the cloth pulled taught around her altered body with bright golden pins. Gold necklaces hung from his neck and jeweled rings and gold bracelets adorned his wrists and fingers. Carmen's two stoats were curled around her shoulders, appearing like a luxurious fur scarf with fiery hues. Soft slippers for footwear completed the look - a man who, like Carmen herself, was far-flung from hard labor. The invented aristocrat, Lucius Goldleaf, walked to the stagecoach with a noble gait. He climbed inside, not having to speak the destination. The driver knew to take Carmen to the Wine River headquarters, where she would either be granted entry, or her scheme would come to a hasty and unfortunate conclusion. OOC Edited by Carmen, Tue Sep 20, 2016 3:47 pm.
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| Keter | Mon Sep 19, 2016 10:33 pm Post #10 |
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Balefire was cold like a Nalaian Winter and that left the Black Monkey unsure of whether or not he should curse his lack of any actual clothing, wandering around in just an old pair of pants, or see it as endurance training. Many years ago, Surya had been known to meditate at the seaside during the Winter season to hone his resistance to the cold, but the body of Keter had only known the suffocating heat of a crystallized room sitting above a magma flow, the radical opposite of such conditions just served to remind him that he was far from being the same person. He was just a relative child with some knowledge in his head from far past lives. Strength and agility were easy to regain with daily regimens, and the knowledge of Bayangan Tinju could only be recreated so much through combat after so many lifetimes restrained. Yet if there was one thing that Keter could find himself thankful for in this place, it was the darkness. What lights there were were soft and seemed to be only for those who could not navigate precisely in the dark. For him, it was comforting, and so he was beginning to take it all as a reassuring sign that he was far from those accursed times with little to do than focus on his past. So far all he had been was a caravan guard, flitting from one place to another and earning a spot of coin for some simple work fighting the very same kind of people that his ancestral self would have easily been found robbing alongside. The latest guard work had brought him to Balefire, a place where his employers assured him he would feel at home. Home may have been a foreign concept now, but he could hardly deny that the place eased his weary soul. Endurance training or a mere annoyance, Keter could hardly find substantial reason to stay out and about in the cold of this dark place. With the bag of assorted coins he had been collecting as payment from his work, the Black Monkey had made sure to purchase a room at a tavern. It was hardly a fanciful place, but the price was reasonable and the interior was soothingly warm. No sooner had the Nalaian hit the bed with the full force of his body than was something slid beneath the door to his room. Suspicious considering he had just arrived, but he leaped from the simply bad as his shadow broke from him to catch a glimpse of whoever might have delivered the item. While it scouted for a possible threat, Keter picked up and tore open the envelope to read it. You need power that you cannot obtain by yourself, and we require your skills. The Wolf and Swindler on Bracken Street. Nobody there. Eerie even by Balefire's standards. The Shade remarked within Keter's mind as it returned to him. "I don't like this." Keter sighed, looking the letter and the envelope over. That was all. Nothing on the back, nothing more in the envelope just a couple of lines of words on a simple piece of paper. It was intentionally short, enough to gather interest but not enough to give too much away. Neither do I, but such shady things are typical for Balefire. "So you've been here before?" Of course. You were hardly the first host of my power, and unless you're immortal I doubt you'll be the last. "Where is Bracken Street?" You're actually going to humor this note? "I don't like anybody who knows more about me than I know about them." Hm, a mindset that should help prolong your life. Alright, I'll guide you there, but as always and especially here, do not let onto my existence. My last trip to Balefire was hardly a pleasant one. There was an odd mix of people at the meeting, all of whom seemed to have received similarly deceptive messages from the employer. It seemed like a bad sign that the work would be prefaced by deception, no matter what the reason might be. The Black Monkey was fine with lies of omission, keeping details as close to the vest as they could, but promising one thing and having it replaced by another just seemed like a bad idea for maintaining a suitable working environment. Keter put aside that concern for now, his curiosity too peaked to ignore whatever this job was truly going to be. Lies or not, the work seemed like it would prove interesting to say the least, but also extremely problematic for the bit of paranoia he seemed to have developed over the years. So far he had just been managing with caravans, the enemies were criminals and nobody batted an eye at their suffering, but this was two businesses acting out a secretive war against one another, so if anything went wrong it would likely result in imprisonment. There were so many people with so many different ideas on how the job should be handled. It was a mess of mostly strangers trying to coordinate an aimed strike at the people who had been deemed the enemy. He tried to convince the others to take their time, but it seemed to be a mostly impatient group, all fiery and ready to get the job over with as soon as possible. Perhaps their employer would want it handled as quickly as possible, but certainly he would like it done as perfectly as possible as well. Oh well, it was something that simply could not be helped. Keter changed his tactics and tried instead for a compromise of carefully constructed teams, an idea spurred from another of the people present, that seemed to be taken far better. He knew too little about the others to truly gauge what they were capable of, but he could at least figure what he could accomplish with little assistance. When it was finally over and settled, Keter felt like he had just undergone an intense training exercise. This was good, perhaps, to tackle an old and familiar concept, to try communicating with a group. In the past it was far simpler for him to just beat people into submission and show them over time that he could be trusted, but there was no such luck to be had on such a time-sensitive job. If this was to be a major facet of his life, then he would just have to get used to the idea that he would have to find some way to work with complete strangers at the drop of a hat. After that ordeal was over, and Keter had made sure of what he wanted to do, he made sure to grab one of the disguises provided and returned to his comfortably dark room at the tavern, thoughts swirling about the coming day. The next day still seemed like night in this wondrous place of shadows. Keter would don the disguise provided for him and begin blending in with the workers at the headquarters. A bit of time to melt into the surroundings and behave like he belonged there would prove beneficial rather than just showing up out of nowhere and going straight for the blueprints, wherever they were. By having some time to scout out the premises, if he were caught going a little too close to somewhere he was not supposed to be, then he could always claim accurately to be going somewhere else. The arrival of the nobles would be his cue to go for the plans, to grab them and to escape the headquarters before he could be stopped. Hopefully he could do it quietly, without alerting anybody, and he would knock unconscious whoever he had to in order to achieve his goal, but the first and foremost of his goals was to secure the blueprints. |
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| Anci | Tue Sep 20, 2016 3:07 am Post #11 |
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The flames in the iron cage cracked and danced around the wooden scraps that had been fed into them. Barely pushing the bitter cold away. Anci was hunkered close to it, bundled up with two jackets, a scarf and a raggedy stormy she had swiped off a body in a gutter on the way to work. She still felt the chill. Others were nearby, talking among each other, cooking or just enjoying the source of heat like she was. Her place here was allowed for the fact that she was human. Made them feel better about themselves, that their plight could be even worse. They could be[ her. Not very knowledgeable in Bridgetongue, she missed out on the insults, jokes and patronizing commentary. Anci was just thankful for a mostly peaceful place to rest in what free time she could wrangle away from her creditors. "You're Leddit's dog, Anci, correct?" The voice came from behind her, directly behind her head. A hoarse voice, rough, controlled. It set Anci on edge, she didn't recognize it. Didn't know what was the safe answer. Even if she grew up here, Anci doubted she'd ever fully understand the politics of the streets. "Go away, I am on my own time." She felt the powerful grip on her neck before she even heard a motion made. Her vision went dark for a moment and she found herself pinned against a wall, elevated off of the ground by the stranger's hand. Anci's hands were already working at trying to pry herself free, but underneath the white gloves it felt like the grip was made with steel instead of flesh and bone. The world was spinning lightly from the sudden violence, she could make out a smooth face devoid any features beyond a half circle of five eyes looking at here from underneath a wide brimmed stormy. The voice made a noise, something that she suspected was an amused huff. It took a moment for her to realize their mouth was on their throat, running the length of it instead of across. It was only then she felt a wiggling pressure inside her chest. Rasaki had responded to the attack, lashing out with a blade that had poked its way out through Anci's ribcage. The stranger was holding the blade with its hand, glove shorn apart and a red round readily visible in the flicking light of the fire nearby. No blood flowed freely from it though. It took a moment for Anci to realize the glove was just a differently shaded layer of skin. "I'm here as a courier tonight." They tightened there grip. "I could make someone disappear instead. Your choice." It was hard to discern their words, her pulse was getting louder in her head with each passing moment. Her struggles to loosen the grip had been desperate, but at the implication she let go and went slack. Rasaki didn't retract willingly, but it didn't fight Anci as she willed it back into place. She'd need to replace the shirt. The scent of blood drew attention, the scent of human blood drew even more. The skin around the throat-mouth pulled back, exposing surprisingly clean teeth. Their serrated edges did much to counter any good will the displaced smile might have had. They let Anci go roughly, allowing her to hit the ground without ceremony and started talking over her coughing fit. "Good! Glad you came around. This is for you, little mutt." "I swear to God I'll-" She stopped herself. The figure had a letter in their hand, but the way they were leaning in and listening. They were waiting for her to finish her statement. A dozen tiny clawed hands were poking their way out of the throat-mouth between the teeth as the stranger's breath came quickly. They were excited, anticipating. Anci took the letter wordlessly. Even after the stranger let out a disappointed sigh, even after they turned away, even after they were gone Anci didn't feel a sense of relief. There was always someone or something watching in this awful city. She had the place to herself though, the commotion had driven the others to seek shelter and safety elsewhere. They might have known before hand of this courier's arrival as well. Either way, Anci was able to go through the letter at her own pace in a relatively quiet peace. __________________________________________________ At the best of times Anci felt below notice in Balefire. Now up in a more affluential area felt out of place even more than in the small couple of blocks she was getting familiar with. Stares of different sorts came her way, but nobody hassled her. She had an invitation after all, one hand pressing its crumpled form against her chest like it was a protective ward. Anci kept glancing down at her other hand. Written on the glove with char was the bridgetongue for "The wolf and swindler" courtesy of a young child. She was comparing it to the different signs she was running across, not trusting her limited understanding of written common. The place was a lot livlier than she expected. The first feeling Anci got inside was that of danger. Too many people, too much noise, too many things going on all at once. It was hard to keep her wits about her between the smoke in the air, the singing and the constant sense of movement. Then a familiar surprise in the shape of Lore came out of the social chaos. __________________________________________________ They hadn't been the first ones to arrive, not that Anci had gotten here as early as she had hoped to. It was nearly impossible to travel some distance in this city without an obstruction related or not to her. She felt a lot more at easy going into this with Lore around. When the chips were down, it was a great relief to know there was a violent dynamo you could count on. Settling into a chair she stayed bundled up in her excessive lairs. The warmth inside was keeping her teeth from chattering, but the cold still lingered in her bones. Anci also wasn't exactly certain how long they would be staying. The offer of food though was a good hint it might be a little bit. Her stomach was a knotted pit, she'd spent more time than not sick from eating tainted meat on the scurrying vermin she had managed to catch and kill until some of the locals gave her advice on what things were safe to eat and which ones would eat her. She couldn't possibly afford anything from a place like this. Nothing came for free in this shadowed cesspit. Anci contented herself to enviously stare at Alex's meal, her eyes peeking out over the scarf covering the lower half of her face. Krupin's explanation of his deception was not shocking, but Anci was extremely relieved over what it was covering. No small part of her had been dreading this was some elaborate lure to draw in victims or something. The fact that he was offering them generous pay solidly won her over. Deception here seemed to be what being polite was elsewhere. It was just one of those socially expected behaviors. They were left to their own devices, and it was just a degree less chaotic than downstairs. __________________________________________________ Anci mulled over the words being spoken. Some of it was hard to follow, either from the slang or the speed in the exchanges going on. Almost everyone had their own idea on how things should go. She spoke slowly, deliberately, to make sure her words were understood. "The goal is to knock the Wine River company out with one thrust. You do not want to make all of your eggs into a single basket. We have the numbers, we should push on every front with everyone going to the best of their abilities. Sabotage, the schematic and planting the falsified information. I believe everyone agrees or accepts that the first two can be done loudly, but if we wish to hit all three points we must be traceless. To make our window of problems as short as possible, I think three teams pursuing each route working at the same time would be the best. If one gets compromised, the other two still have a chance. A fourth group will be the back up, they will make a lot of noise and a lot smoke if any one on the inside gets in trouble. Hitting the riverside barges and the front gate will confuse and distract them enough. Make it look like on of competitors that lost early on. Grudges aren't easily forgotten in the city." She grimaced from personal experience before going on. "She is an engineer," Anci gestured towards Alex. "You could give some of a better idea on what to look for and what to break in their sphereyard for anyone else willing to go for that. Inside the building, anybody hunting for the schematic needs to find where they keep it and who is the gatekeeper. I used to guard precious materials and in the event of an unhalted breach I was expected to safely transport them out of danger. If there is no clear opening, the schematics might be easier to get a hold of when the distraction goes up. Lastly the evidence. It needs to go somewhere it should be, with someone important. It needs to stay hidden long enough for the stars-and-collars to find it though. When things go crazy, that may be the best opportunity to slip it into the overseer's, or lord or whatever God forsaken title they go by, room." Clapping her hands together she takes a deep breath. "I know there is a strong desire to prowl around first, I do not think we have that luxury. Kuprin made it clear Oxbow is not doing well in this fight, it will make things harder but we should strike fast and hard. I believe all present are capable of adapting and improvising along the way. Everyone goes in quiet, sabotage team gets their job done and gets out as quickly and quietly as possible. Once they are out, or if things go awry, the gates and dock get hit. In the panic the other two teams get their jobs done and get out while Wine River is worried about the threat on the outside. Sound good?" __________________________________________________ She wanted to ask Kuprin if this was a test. Something he wanted this group to cut their teeth on. It was entirely possible the goal was to see how everyone acted under pressure like this. Too many people here were individualists, loners. Arthur's speaking bauble proved valuable though. It didn't seem like there was a great deal of danger, just a high chance of discovery and the consequences that would bring down on the ones who got nailed. "I can provide a quick way out for anyone not too confident in their abilities to make a getaway. For a rally point, would people feel better about the docks where it looks like most of our strength will be or elsewhere, since there will likely be a lot of attention riverside? Otherwise if you give me an idea where you are, I can get a bird to you. Just make sure you do not have a fear of heights." Alex was right on the points she made, having a gaggle of people with her would only make her job harder. Having too many people sabotaging things just increased the risk of those efforts being discovered before they sent anything off the rails. Not that it looked like many people were volunteering for that. The notion of making introductions was shockingly sensible. Looking at the silver lining, everyone was more concerned about the job than about bragging how they were this continent's top assassin or the best shot this side of whatever-mountains. "Anci works just fine. I have some talent with working metal and directing it." If she could have shrugged under her two jackets she would have. "Most of you seem to have me at a disadvantage, I am not exactly one for creeping around unseen." She motioned towards Lore with a gloved hand. "I will see about helping her with the barge, we have some experience working together." __________________________________________________ "Yeah thanks for that one, if I had known I would need to take a swim I would have gone into through the front instead." Her tone was even, but Anci was just yanking on Lore's chain. Getting across wasn't an issue. Getting across unseen was the problem. There was just so much activity going on. They needed to get the workers eyes focused on something, temporarily and without raising undo panic. "I'll get them to look downriver, let me know when you're going to cross." Anci retreated from their view of the complex on the other side, ducking into a tight alleyway. The glyph embedded on her chest started to illuminate, the pale, white light showing through her clothing. Even with the bite of the cold, Anci took a moment to unbutton her jackets and roll up her shirt. The last thing she needed was to rip her only clothes apart. She threaded her fingers on the wisps of mana she could feel emanating from the glyph, visualizing the thing she intended to pull through and yanked it into this side of existence. The skin of her chest deformed as the sharp, angular face punctured through. Anci ground her teeth together through the pain, her hands pressed to to the surrounding walls to help keep her standing upright. With each moment the thing writhed and heaved itself out, dripping thick, black liquid along it's gray metal carapace All the color in the alleyway bled away, siphoned into the beyond by the small planar breach going on. That more than having a living thing pass through Anci like she was a door sickened her. It made this place look more like the other side. It last only moments but it left Anci feeling drained and numb to other sensations. She didn't have time to rest. Though it was small, the ravenous little elemental spun on her. Its body was made of corded black metal where a living creature would have muscle tissue. Dull gray plating covered its back and head, angular with barbed ridges running along their length. A single, pupiless white eye stared Anci down. She was close enough to see black veins around the outer edges of its eye. Close enough to see under the gray beak a mouth filled with wildly shaped teeth. It didn't look like it could close its mouth properly with how many it had. With a twitch of her hand and a directed concentration of will, Anci tightened the frame of white metal that looped around the entirety of its body. It might not listen to her but that didn't mean she couldn't forcefully direct it. It strained against the cage entrapping it, bladed wings unfolding from the two largest carapace plates on its backs only to be held in check by Anci's imposed frame. The breath from the hiss it made in response to this made a great billow of steam in the cold air, the scent of copper hung heavy in the air. She rolled her shirt down and buttoned the jackets up. The shirt would be stained, but more importantly her jackets weren't tattered beyond use. Waving, she directed the avian creature up where it scrabbled up the side of the building, claws digging into the brickwork without much care. From the roof it spread its wings, the entirety of its underside was black, a sharp contrast to the gray topside. It was a natural adaptation from its environment and would thankfully be of some use here. Now that the connection had been firmly established, Anci had a much easier time controlling the frame. Sending the creature into the air where it rose steadily. Once she felt it was high enough, she was content to let it circle idly. When they wanted the distraction, she'd call it down into a plunge downriver. Giant splash, big plume of water. It'd draw attention for certain. Since it didn't need to breath, she could leave it down there. Make it crawl along to river bed closer to the docks while the workers would hopefully be focused to where it had fallen in. Knowing Balefire they'd just chalk it up to a body falling in and carry on which was what Anci hoped for. They just a few precious moments of inattention for the others to get across. |
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| Storyteller[ST] | Tue Sep 20, 2016 10:43 pm Post #12 |
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Headquarters Deception - Arthur, You journey to the headquarters. Click to board the stagecoach. Headquarters Sneaking - Tian, Tanya Your infiltration begins. Click to act natural. The Barges - Yurim, Lorica, Anci The Wine River is full of barges. Click to climb on. The Sphereyard - Alexandra, Zuraw, Caedis The yards are alive with lights and activity. Click to approach the guards. Miscellaneous - Glug You head out. Click to take your time. Miscellaneous - [ ] It is not coming. It is already here, and it is overdue by centuries.
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| Tian | Wed Sep 21, 2016 4:08 pm Post #13 |
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It was almost too easy. And, to be entirely truthful, it worried the hell out of him. Oh, it was entirely possible for an entity to become so powerful, so sure of itself that it let its guard down under the assumption that no one would dare try anything. Tian knew this very well. But this was Balefire, and the weak did not survive here. The weak were, laws or no laws, dinner. And so, as he moved along with the proper mixture of confidence in belonging and wariness of all the others around him who, for the most part, were not human at all, he began to wonder when the other shoe was going to drop. He passed by a man he was familiar with, groaning inwardly. Thats probably the only way that muscle-brain could possibly sneak in anywhere. He wasn't entirely sure who it was that Arthur was flanking, but that didn't mean much to him. It was entirely possible that Arthur had managed to rook someone into allowing him to be their bodyguard here. Possible, but extremely unlikely. No, the elf was probably a member of their sorry cadre of ne'er-do-wells, except he was reasonably certain several of those worthies were law abiding citizens and were, more or less, screwed when the other shoe dropped in regards to their employer. Putting Arthur out of his mind, he wandered (with purpose) asking directions to the yard and getting thoroughly turned around a few times (on purpose). He noted the room with all of the activity, and the locked door beyond it. And the eidolon scooting along the floor. Of Tanya he knew nothing, of course. Who would notice a fly? But he was very intrigued by the door that the manager had come out of. Even if it did not hold what he was looking for, there was bound to be something interesting in there. He eyed the papers in his hands, the false documents with the false schematics for some bullshit or other, and grinned to himself. Going in directly through the front door was out. He didn't even wish to approach the room with all the hubbub going on in it. He wanted himself marked out in no way beyond being ignorant of the layout of headquarters. That didn't mean he couldn't circumvent it all. Some people have talents....and some people have talents. With purpose, rather urgent purpose, he moved to a restroom he had remembered seeing. And as he moved, he felt all around him. He could sense darkness. The dark was one of his own natural environs. He could sense dozens of shadows all around him, most of them unusable to him. And, behind that locked door (he was sure it was locked without even trying it), was darkness. Score! He hurried into the bathroom. He had a plan of action already formulated. It wasn't exactly bold and daring, but it was better than bumbling into a room of potential identifiers that could call him out on being an imposter. So, what I will want to do is knock out the lights in this here bathroom whenever it clears out enough for me to do so. Make it look like a natural breakdown, to avoid rousing suspicions. Definitely going to want to keep the noise down while I do that, too. Then, once in darkness, I can slip into shadows until I am in range of that room. Don't want to be noticed while I am at it, either. Need to be stock still. I can use the shadows as cover. And, once close enough - BAM! Slip right into that room. Stay stock still just in case; I don't sense any presence in there, but it is dark. No need to take senseless risks. And, if there is no one about...I can snatch those documents. Put them in the middle of the sheaf of papers I am currently carrying, minus a few pages so there is something to put back so a casual glance won't show them missing...and then slip back out the same way I came in. And then walk right the hell out of this place. As he stepped into a stall, he winced. Trouble is, the best laid plans seldom last past the first swing. Well, uncertainty and risk were parts of his everyday life anyway. He would survive, somehow. Failure just might mean some other people might not. As for members of their motley crew that he had seen in here already... [removed] 'em if they can't take a joke. Shenanigans. Click to understand.
Edited by Tian, Wed Sep 21, 2016 4:11 pm.
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| Mobster Man | Wed Sep 21, 2016 10:23 pm Post #14 |
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They were in the shadows on the boat, good. Yurim placed a hand on Lorica's arm and focused on the shadows, he whispered, "Unless they shine light directly on us, or take away the shadows, we will not be seen. I will send my shadow to scout the insides to see who is on this thing. As long as we have physical contact I can hide our presence." He could keep them cloaked in the shadows, but he needed to do more. He looked at his feet and urged his shadow to move. The shadow moved swiftly, aiming to rush into the belly of the boat. Yurim had to admit his shadow moving on it's own was always helpful, as long as someone didn't notice it slinking along the floor it should be able to scout the boat out and relay all information to him. Yurim grinned, this would definitely be an easy job. OOC
Edited by Mobster Man, Wed Sep 21, 2016 10:33 pm.
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| Carmen | Thu Sep 22, 2016 3:34 pm Post #15 |
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Carmen very much enjoyed the antics of the lycanthropes; their accent, demeanour and banter were all so exotic and entertaining. The ride over was itself another thrill, far from the typical plodding pace she was used to in a coach. She shot them both a secret smile as she disembarked, eagerly anticipating meeting these two again. Lucius bends an ear toward Arthur when the bodyguard leans in close. The noble thins his lips and visibly resists rolling his eyes. "Again? We'll get you a grafted bladder one day soon if this keeps up." He raises a finger in a dismissing gesture and sighs. "Go find the privy, then, if you must. And by the aether, don't be as long as last time." Lucius turns back to Nosek and thanks him for the tour, describing it as uniquely informative. He clasps his hands together in front of his chest. "Questions, yes, most certainly. Many, many questions. Perhaps we should move to somewhere more private where we might sit? One of the offices I saw earlier?" Once they settle upon a location, Lucius makes himself comfortable, folds his hands on his lap, and looks Nosek in the eye. You can do this. Father groomed you to run the winery. What would he ask? Wetting his lips, Lucius began his long list of questions, giving the vampire ample time to answer each before moving on to the next. So many questions After he was done, Lucius' lips twitched in a tiny smile of satisfaction, as countless hours sitting beside Count Castile in business meetings were finally put to use. |
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8:39 AM Jul 11

