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| Freedom in Many Ways; [Private: Logan] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Fri Nov 24, 2017 10:13 pm (519 Views) | |
| Vaska | Fri Nov 24, 2017 10:13 pm Post #1 |
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"You should just kill him." "No! Humiliate him first! He has to pay!" "He's a stain on the family name. We should erase him from existence, as if he'd never been born." "Were you always such a barbarian, uncle? Weren't we to guard and treasure every living member of the family? He may yet be reformed." "We may yet stick him in the body of a golem, you mean, and force him to abandon these sickening whimsies." Vaska stood with her head bowed, clutching the Sykora Family Registry in her arms. Black bangs hid her eyes. Blood-red demon spirits kept orbiting where she stood, staring at her and talking. Their voices clashed. Often interrupting. Always loud. Every so often, the smokey forms of the spirits would grow fangs or claws or catlike ears, or let rows of eyes brim to life and shift and then close into nothingness again. "Servant!" The half-vampire flinched, but didn't raise her head. "The upper floors of the estate are still in ruins. Make arrangements to change that as soon as possible. We don't keep you under our care only for you to be idle." "Would it please the House more if I captured the wayward Artur Sykora first, or cleaned the upper floors?" Her tone was soft and careful. Vaska peered up. Between her forelocks the butler's eyes were pale red, pupils narrowed to vertical slits. "Have you not been following this entire conversation? Capture the young one!" Vaska bowed deep from the waist, still clutching the book and its attached chains. "As you wish." Red demon spirits covered her like a cloak even as she left. Their voices were so loud that she couldn't even hear her heels click against the floor of the Sykora Mansion's ruins. Only when she passed through the front doors and into the courtyard was she finally in silence again. The winter hated Balefire and everyone who lived there. Vaska clutched her fur-lined mantle closer, holding it so the heavy cloth folds would protect the Sykora Family Registry that was chained to the small of her back. Her free hand kept firm hold of the high-topped hat she wore, pinning it in place against the blowing wind and snow. Beneath her cloak and greatcoat, she wore black Balefiren formalwear over a crisp white shirt and red cravat. She drove her single-horse carriage to the front of a well-lit, businesslike building and parked streetside. After hopping down from the driver's seat and dusting snow off her immaculate clothing, the butler moved toward the front door and pushed it open. Above, the sign marked that her destination was correct: the Balefire chapter of the Chaon Adventurer's Guild. Warmth flooded into her freezing fingers and toes even as she removed her hat out of courtesy. Vaska fitted a monocle with a brass chain over one eye and scanned the quiet crowd of adventurers inside. The whole place had a soft, somber atmosphere that made her feel right at home. The butler approached whoever looked to know what they were doing -- a front desk, if they had one. "Good evening. My name is Vaska Lakatos Sykorasek. I would like to inquire after someone, if it pleases. A man named Logan. I have business of some urgency that intersects with his personal interests, I believe." |
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| Logan | Mon Nov 27, 2017 10:15 pm Post #2 |
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Too much stress and too many brushes with death. The life of any adventurer might be one rife with danger, but things were just getting ridiculous for Logan. So many new and unique ways for him t almost die were just coming out of the woodwork, and after such a consecutive string of ordeals surrounding what should have been a fairly standard job, no normal contract was going to do for the werewolf. He needed a dirty job, nothing with paperwork. When one was comfortable with shady work, there was only one place that proved consistently reliable. A strict sense of order kept it from falling to the lows of Daisan, a grim understanding of the consequences of betrayal kept it safe, and the shadows that hid everything just around the corner kept the work flowing like wine. Paperwork was almost always conveniently lost shortly after duty completion, but could always reemerge if somebody decided to test the limits of their authority. Maybe for some people it was just a way of life, but for the werewolf it was a method of unwinding. Thanks to the Balefire hall and its method of function, he could go in, get a job, let loose, and take as much time as he needed to vent his frustrations over some poor fool. That, and Gloomwood was almost a constantly great excuse to allow him to wear layers of layered coats, scarves, and a flatbrim that all caught in the near-constant wind. He also sported a pair of boots fitted to his digitigrade feet and some gloves formed for his lycanthropic hands, but those were rarely worth mentioning since they did not flow with the wind. Anywhere else and he might look particularly intimidating or impressive in his garb, but in Balefire he pretty much blended in with the crowds. As always, the stiff business-like atmosphere of the Balefire Hall did not fail to leave him just a little uncomfortable. Even Cascadia, with its books of paperwork to cover just about everything, felt freer than the rigidity of this hall. People came here for business, and that was that. Still, it spoke wonderful whispers about how many secrets they could keep in plain sight. The werewolf who had stolen the blood moons out from some of darkest gloomwood's greatest never expected to hear his name uttered by strangers, and usually when it was there was trouble trailing it. As ever-reliable, even walking in behind the woman who was asking after him, the flamboyantly dressed man at the counter replied with a shrug despite knowing full-well that Logan was standing right there, "I'm sorry, miss, I can't say that we've seen him around. If you want, I can take a message for him." "If you're hunting him down, I wouldn't recommend it here." The werewolf interjected with his best backswamps accent tinging his voice, a bit morbidly curious as to why anybody was interested in him, "Logan comes to Gloomwood when he needs to shake some bloodlust." |
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| Vaska | Thu Dec 28, 2017 1:25 am Post #3 |
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Before Vaska could issue a message to be sent to Logan, another member of the guild chimed in with a warning. She leveled her pale red eyes on him, struggling to maintain a look of polite nonchalance. The corners of her mouth wanted so badly to press downward. "This is acceptable for my purposes. There is no other location where I might track this man, unfortunately. A shared..." she searched for a good word, "...source of opposition is based here, and he is looking for an opportunity to kill Mr. Logan, I'm sure." "That sounds like it sucks." Logan replied with a slight rise to his eyebrows. Who else had decided to kill him this time? The longer he adventured, the longer the list grew of people who threatened his life, and he was starting to lose the ability to tell which were genuine and which were empty threats, "So why not just wait it out? Could be that the dog just drowns the guy and you're done, scry in a week to see who's dead." "It isn't that simple, I'm afraid, sir. The man's identity is known, but he has joined some kind of cult. I'll pay a hefty sum for the privilege of being present when he and his forces inevitably attack Mr. Logan." Payment for getting ambushed? Now that sounded appealing, like getting rewarded for inevitability. Moreover, now he had a better clue who the threat was and how real it was. Of course, that left a different question, "So, what? You got a grudge against this cultist and wanna be there to watch him die or what?" Letting out a sharp breath through her nose, the butler strode up to the Adventurer's Guild member. She bent over a bit, looking at him intensely. "If I may be frank with you, sir, your curiosity is suspicious. Forgive my Balefiren sensibilities, but I would like some insurance that my request will be honored before I surrender any further details to a stranger." Everything about her expression was placid except for her hard, cold eyes. "I'm an adventurer, we're curious. I know Logan's already on his way out. Your weird. . . vengeance fantasy or whatever to watch someone die can do what you want. I'm just here to close out my job, anyway." Logan said with a roll of his eyes, not that her suspicions weren't justified by Balefire, but with a head's-up on an ambush, the adventurer could always just portal gem his way past it. He had to admit though, it was nice to actually get a warning about impending doom, but he was just about tapped for misplaced fury for a while. Vaska's back straightened. "On his way out? And you waited until now to tell me, sir?" The honorific came naturally even when her tone sounded frustrated. Beginning to turn her body, she placed her high-topped hat back on her head. "Would a few notes make you to tell me which direction Mr. Logan typically leaves?" |
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| Logan | Thu Dec 28, 2017 2:45 am Post #4 |
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"If ya tell me what your stake in the ambush is, then maybe. Can't say I'll help, but now I'm too curious not to at least imagine how this is gonna play out." Logan couldn't help but crack a smile, kind of curious as to why she seemed so eager about all this. If he was going to be bait, then it would be nice to know why. Rooted in place by the force of her own apparent politeness, Vaska rested her hands clasped behind her back. With the high-topped hat and monocle, she cut the textbook image of a high-class Balefiren servant. "I serve the venerable House Sykora. This man, Artur Sykora, is a stain on my masters' family. They've demanded I bring them his soul. The state of the body is not of their concern." "House Sykora? Like a noble house?" Logan asked, his Gloomwood accent fading with the question. Once again the butler's lips pursed, but she took another breath. "Yes. A very old family of Abyssal expatriates. They have owned businesses, sat in the House of Lords, and served the people of Balefire for centuries." "Uggh, they sound pompous and annoying and I just lost interest." Logan groaned, the fake accent completely gone now, replaced by the Southern Tarasian Western Debonese mix he grew up with. Any noble family that wanted a member dead to keep up appearances must have been the sort that was fronting for some really shady stuff. That was the moment Vaska snapped. She stormed up to Logan, moving to grab him by the clothing around his collar. Her irises flared into a bright red color, pupils constricting to catlike slits. "My life is at stake. My masters will kill me if I can't find Logan and, by association, Artur Sykora. Do you get it now?! Cut the crap and tell me which direction he went before I beat it out of you, god dammit!" "What?! Do they have your heart in a box or something? If they're such dicks then get a different job!" Logan spat back, a bit of shock keeping him from any bit of fighting back as he was rather unsure what was going on. The worst part was that now they were drawing attention, a small circle of people forming around them out of curiosity and distance. This very well might have been one of the most Adventurer's Hall common things to happen at the Balefire location in quite a while. "If only it was that simple. They own my life. I'm nothing but a half-vampire. The samotaric strain. There is no 'other job.' It's this or being eaten on the street by werewolves. Tell me where he is. Now." "Damn, not even a dhampir?" Logan said with a bit of empathetic surprise, vaguely remembering what a samotaric was though he was certain he read about it at some point, "Look, you're very attractive. Grab a daylight ring and duck out to greener, less hostile pastures. If your masters were so dangerous, they'd do this themselves or send an actual assassin rather than a pretty face that can't even tell when she's staring her prey in the face." "In the..." Vaska paused, realization of what the man said dawning on her over the course of a few seconds. Her eyes widened. Sucking in a quick gasp, she let go of Logan and clambered a step or two backward. Already her cheeks were flushing in abject embarrassment. Folding one arm over her front and using the other to keep hold of her hat, she bowed low from the waist until she was staring at the ground. "Please excuse me! I am very sorry! I-- I had assumed you weren't--" She shut her eyes tight, still bowing. "My deepest and sincerest apologies, Mr. Logan!" "That was the point of me not saying it straight up, and you don't need to act formal with me." Logan sighed, getting a good look of the dissolving crowd around them that way returning to actual work instead of watching the show. "Look, let's at least move out of the way." The werewolf said, putting a hand to the half vampiress to move them both of the way of others, "What's your name, again? And why not just duck out of Gloomwood instead of doing this, because it doesn't seem like that house is making you happy?" Vaska flinched at the hand on her, but then moved in accordance with where he was trying to get her to go. "My name is Vaska Lakatos Sykorasek. Ah, no need to worry about me, Mr. Logan, sir. Gloomwood is my home and this is my job. I like to think I'm quite good at it." Much of the bright red had already drained out of her irises, leaving them the pink they were before. "If it pleases, I have a carriage outside. I'd be more than happy to take you to your domicile if you'll agree to allow me to lurk nearby for the next few days." "Okay, but please stop with. . . Pretty much any honorific. Just 'Logan'." He sighed, not sure if this girl was abused, loyal, or just a perfectionist doing her job, though he tended towards poor opinions of the upper crust of most societies. Still, for as neutral as he was on being used for bait, he did not feel particularly comfortable on this fine specimen before him being used to run this errand. Well, there was probably one way to get her to rethink this job, he believed. Indulge in a bit of id, maybe get a lasting chuckle, but cut this off short before a girl so worried about her own well-being got hurt as collateral. "I was gonna just walk outta Balefire, maybe Portal out with you telling me about the ambush, but if a pretty thing like you'd stay in the room with me, maybe get a little personal, maybe a lot personal, then I think I could extend my stay a while longer." He added with a very blatant and suggestive wink, a wolfish grin to his muzzle. Really, he would just be happy to practice some electromancy on the Aquarius Cultists and move on, but he also preferred a wild style of one against many rather than escorting a noncombatant. The request for no more honorifics was met with a nod. "As you wish, sir." She listened to his added conditions with a placid look on her face, hard to read, especially when he complimented her appearance again. "I greatly appreciate your hospitality, but my obvious presence would certainly compromise the mission. Artur Sykora will recognize me. It would be best if, once we have a plan, I remain nearby without getting too personal." Belying her general manner, she winked back at him. "I would advise against teleporting, sir-- err, Logan. If memory serves, this cult has been troubling you for quite some time. Avoiding the problem will merely prolong it. If it pleases, this is an excellent chance for you to deal with them. I can take care of myself in combat, if that's your concern." "Maybe we'll celebrate later in private, then." Logan responded with an eyebrow raise of a bit of surprise. He was assuming her for a strictly professional type, but it seemed there was still some common vampire in her, yet. They always seemed to be slicker than they appeared, at least from his experience. Well, fine, if she was not going to back down from this, then he may as well play along. "If this goes how I expect, it'll probably be your guy at mid-to-high rank, some low-rankers, and anywhere between a lot mercs to just a few hired specialistis. That's been how they've handled things so far." Logan strategized with a sigh, "Can't fault them for tactics, but I've got the wombo combo that keeps on giving, and a handy dandy arsenal to boot. "Fine, I'll stay a bit longer, if only to get paid for being ambushed. But feel free to visit me whenever you want, privately. . . Or if you just want a drink. I apparently don't bleed out, any more, and I don't think I'd mind sharing with you." |
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| Vaska | Thu Dec 28, 2017 4:10 am Post #5 |
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Vaska gave Logan a look more shocked than when he'd blatantly propositioned her. "Beg your pardon! I would never even dream to drink directly from a person!" She barked a laugh as if it was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. "What? My blood's not good enough for you?" Logan quipped with a feigned serious tone and a look of surprise. "Certainly not, I'm sure, sir. If it's in a bag, I'd be happy to consume it like a civilized person. But it's not necessary. My needs are taken care of." The half-vampire quirked an eyebrow. "You've been awfully concerned about them, but I assure you that my monitoring will be self-sufficient." As they spoke, she led the werewolf out to the front of the guild, where a sleek black horse was hitched on a light harness to a carriage parked on the side of the road. Vaska slipped her hands into the pockets of her greatcoat in the face of the bitter-cold Balefiren breeze. She jumped up onto the driver's bench at the front, gesturing for Logan to get into the cab. Regardless of where he decided to seat himself, Vaska looked contemplative. "With Artur Sykora, I would expect the unexpected. He's a pathological liar and a thrill-seeker. Not to mention his abilities as a Sykora. Since you don't seem familiar with Balefiren high society--" something subtle about her tone made it seem like a compliment disguised as a dig, "--I will clarify that the House Sykora are demons of a noticeably feline disposition. Their forms have become more humanoid over the generations, but they have many of the raw physical prowess you might expect of such a breed. Although your cultist friends might normally operate in a certain manner, Artur's personality could be enough to throw off the balance, so to speak." She turned to look at Logan. "Ah, sir, might you tell me where it is we'll be going? And while you're at it, it would be most beneficial if you could enlighten me on everything you know about this cult. I have my sources, but they're surely incomplete." |
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| Logan | Fri Dec 29, 2017 2:04 am Post #6 |
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It was one abyss of a nice ride to be certain. For as snooty as houses, lords and ladies might have been, there was rarely denying their taste for nice things. It seemed classic, at least no obvious golemization that the adventurer could spy, and no ghostly driver, leaving the half-vampiress to take up the seat. Logan took himself into the cab, his thick gray fur well enough for surviving the cold, but he still found little desire to have his snout assaulted by the icy breeze, though seating himself nearest to his employer-apparent. "The Tempaeris. Uhm, they're one of the Iunctura Religions, basically some. . . Well, not exactly old-school elemental worshipers, kind of newer, I guess, but they usually help people. They came around wanting the pendant around my neck a while back, but I told them 'no' and they haven't really taken that too well. At one point somebody tried to take my parents hostage, but that didn't go too well for them, so I suppose they're just focused on me, now, but that hasn't really been going well for them, either. Oh, and a lot of them use weather magic, a lot of air, electricity, and water, too." Logan said, having not really taken much of this into consideration before. He was just accepting it as a part of life that he had these people ambushing him at random intervals, and that they were simply something he had to be used to or else it would drive him nuts. Even bad things could be taken for granted, but at least they provided excellent practice dummies for him to try new magic on, "I'm staying at this shady place called the Darkheart. It's got soundproofed rooms so it's easier to sleep there, and they don't really ask a lot of questions. It's on the East side of Balefire." There was, of course, a bit of awkwardness to riding in the cab alone. He was having trouble figuring out how the fancy-pants of society did it. Workaholics he could understand, the solitude of the ride meant that they could focus on cramming some last-minute numbers before their destination, but the upper echelons rarely seemed to have so much to do, particularly those who married into that wealth. "So this is gonna end up being a fight between a cat and dog, huh? With a. . . Would you consider yourself more like a bat or a spider?" Logan inquired idly to pass the time, "I once wrestled a giant Celestial, so getting into a fight with some diluted Abyssal should be fun. What else do you know about Artie-- the way he operates? Is he gonna try to solo me, or what? There's no such thing as too much information." |
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| Vaska | Fri Dec 29, 2017 1:19 pm Post #7 |
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Vaska tensed at the innocent bat-or-spider question. "A bat. Nothing else," she said with some urgency. "In fact, sir, if you would be so kind as to not attempt to shoo away or kill any very small bat you might discover in your home, I would appreciate it." She didn't explain more than that, and it was clear from her tone that it was awkward enough for her to say as much as she did. The information about the Tempaeris had been quite helpful. Knowing that their intentions were benevolent didn't make her any less eager to stop them and Artur, though. Every religion she could think of had a moral bent to it, but it never prevented believers from doing rotten things. Vaska herself had never been raised with any particular faith, so she found it difficult to empathize. Logan asked some questions about Artur Sykora. "Unlikely, sir. My masters in the great House Sykora -- may they flourish for ten-thousand generations -- seldom play fair. Artur has been fond of experimenting with alchemicals from a young age. I remember catching mice for him. He kept them in his room as pets, feeding them his little baking projects. Then he moved to larger victims once he became fascinated with 'surprising' people. As a prank, he once laced my siblings' blood bags with a homemade combat alchemical that drove us violent. We were, as you can imagine, punished quite severely for our impropriety. A well-deserved lesson, in my opinion. No self-respecting servant of Lakatos calibre ought to crumble mentally to something as droll as a bathtub mind-alterer." The horse's hooves clopped against cobblestones and splashed through iced-over puddles as Vaska recalled old memories in a wistful tone. Every time she spoke of classic Sykora antics, her voice made it unclear whether she was intending to be sarcastic or genuine. |
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| Logan | Fri Dec 29, 2017 1:47 pm Post #8 |
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That was fast and absolute. A little suspicious, but Logan shrugged that off in favor of the readiness of her answer and how quickly she jumped to concern for bats. "I wouldn't dream of it! Bats get a bad rap, but they're so cute, with their little noses and pointy ears, and those eyes like puppies! Watching a colony against the twilight sky is always such a wonderful sight. This one time while growing up, I helped nurse an injured one back to health. What a sweet little thing that was." Spiders were okay, too, but Logan definitely preferred bats. Fewer giant bats had tried to kill him in his adventures, and they were usually a lot easier to find and deal with, not really wanting to deal with him, either. Some spiders could just be mean, especially when they saw humanoids as little more than food. The smaller ones had a better sense of their place in the scale of the world, but all bats seemed to be happier living and let live from his experience. Of course, the buzz of talking about bats was quickly lost to more information on the Artur ass that was coming for him. Whatever was going on with the Aquarius-worshiping cult, it sounded like everybody would be better off without this self-gratifying sociopathic trickster running amok. "Don't knock muddy alchemy. Actually, they're probably more dangerous if he's never had formal training, because that can make potency and effect difficult to predict or handle, since with proper alchemists you can at least be guaranteed that they have uniformity." The werewolf stated with no small amount of annoyance towards muddery. For all the times he had been unfortunate enough to be a recipient, hearing how the House treated Vaska and her kin for being victims to it just rubbed him the wrong way, "Y'all didn't deserve to be punished. He will, though. Can't say I've ever taken kindly to bullies. Though, I guess if he doesn't fight fair, all sorts of things he might try. If this gets too far, he might end up pissing off some Sheriffs. "Tell me, honestly, none of the professionalism, just you and your thoughts. Are you looking forward to any of this? For your own satisfcation?" |
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| Vaska | Fri Dec 29, 2017 9:26 pm Post #9 |
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The werewolf made some accurate observations about muddy alchemy, which Vaska responded to with a noise of assent. Although she still disagreed with him about the punishment for Artur's prank, she added another, "Indeed," to the comment about angering the Balefire Sheriffs. "I would never delude myself into thinking my actions are perfectly law-abiding, but in this case it could work in our favor not to commit any crimes." Then he asked about her personal opinion of the interception, free of the so-called professionalism that colored (nearly) everything she said. Vaska bent over to give him a strange look from the driver's bench of the carriage. "This is the second time you've asked me something along those lines. At the risk of imposing, I'd like to explain something, if you wouldn't mind bearing with me, sir." She cleared her throat. "I'm not sure where you're from, Mr. Logan, but you appear to have come from a different culture whose rules don't apply to my particular sphere of society. Although I'm the one paying you for the honor of being present during this ambush, and although I might wear nice clothing, make no mistake: my status is far lower than yours. "Imagine, if it pleases, you're entering the mansion of an important dignitary for a meeting. Would you greet and shake hands with the guard posted at the gate, asking him what he thinks of the proceedings? Well, you might, but any reasonable person of status in Balefire would laugh or even be offended if they saw a fellow mover-and-shaker do such a thing. The guard, likewise, would be taken aback and made uncomfortable by the gesture. "Like that guard, I'm a servant. That means I'm to be seen and not heard, and my opinions and feelings don't exist. To ask me for my... what was it you said, 'complete honesty, just me and my thoughts' or something like that? I hope it makes more sense why I find that ridiculous. In order to make this job as smooth as possible for both of us, I'd appreciate if you avoid breaching the boundaries that society has carefully laid out over the past few centuries." |
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| Logan | Sat Dec 30, 2017 1:42 am Post #10 |
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"It'd be easier if those boundaries didn't already result in the Taming of Balefire." Logan replied after a moment of quiet contemplation on what to say. It was harder not to hear about the Taming after it happened, with adventurers speculating on what it meant for the region's contracts, with merchants wondering what it might do the flow of trade, with military expressing concerns in their off time about the implications of the joint effort on the City of Lanterns, and of people worrying about friends and family who might have been caught up in the madness. One thing that was leaked was Karstoff's veritable ambush of some of the upper echelons, sifting to ensure loyalty or at least cooperation. Even Daisan, with its apparent semi-anarchistic ways leading to a bunch of different smaller factions and their unique interactions seemed like a self-regulated thing, but to Logan at least, that the Taming of Balefire ever needed to happen and in such a blatant message-sending way was indicative of something wrong with what was status quo. The city was safer since that change, and it felt like people had eased into the new norm, but it still stood as a major point in its history and a testament to change that clearly enough people felt was necessary. "The Darkheart's there." Logan said, gesturing to a decidedly unmarked yet tall structure, cast in shadows with light barely eking out past the thick curtains in the windows. A tavern for people who wanted to be left alone for one reason or another. In Logan's particular case, the low traffic and soundproofed rooms were both ideal for his hearing which was already plenty sensitive before having massive ears. Vaska settled a stern look on the structure ahead. She pulled around the street, parking the carriage around the corner where it wasn't in plain view. "I don't know this part of town very well. I assume with the way I'm dressed I would draw a great deal of attention we don't need. Is this correct?" Logan looked down to the way he was dressed as he disembarked from the wagon, decidedly not Balefirian, "Yeah, I clearly have no idea, but this seems like the kind of place where nobody's been and nobody's seen or heard anything. Though I can't say it wouldn't be interesting to see what you look like dressing casually." The half-vampire shook her head. "A different approach is necessary, I'm afraid. Even if I were to dress casually, it only makes my mannerisms appear especially unusual and eye-catching." The confident tone bespoke some sort of past experience with the matter. Then she paused, looking genuinely hesitant about something. "From my experience, call yourself an adventurer and people stop thinking twice about how weird you are and accept it as normal. That or get drunk." Logan shrugged, "Unless you've got a better idea?" "Yes, I do. Provided you don't laugh." Vaska stood up on the driver's bench, tied the horse's reins to the bar, and strode to one side. It might have looked like she was about to step down -- except she didn't. Instead, her body burst into mana smoke: black streaked with red. Most of it dissolved in a puff, but a thick stream remained as it coalesced and rose straight into the air with gusto. A tiny creature emerged from the smoke, flapping intensely. It was small enough to fit into the palm of a hand, merely a black puffball with wings. The tiny bat fluttered its way toward Logan before landing on his shoulder. Laughing was the furthest thing from the werewolf's mind as he stood, watching the small bat emerge from the smoke to land on his shoulder. He moved to grab the small creature up gently in his hands, holding it before his golden eyes as his mind adjusted to the reality of what was going on before exclaiming with a wide grin on his face, "Oh my gods, you're adorable! Hot as a humanoid, cute as a bat, this is just such a delight!" Instinctively he'd move one of his furry fingers to gently pet the small bat-vampire. The tiny bat squirmed in his grip, gnashing her needle teeth. "Unhand me," Vaska's disembodied voice said, quiet to match her transformed body's small size. "The only advantage of being 'cute,' as you claim, is discreet portability. Do you have somewhere I can hide on your person while preserving some measure of dignity?" "The best part of being cute is how adorable and cute you are! Oh, I think I'd kill anybody that so much as said something mean to you like this. It's taking every ounce of willpower not to nuzzle you, you soft, tiny thing, you." The adventurer barely had any composure on the matter. She was soft in his hand, so small and fragile. Remembering what she looked like as a humanoid and what she actually was proved difficult, but he had to remember that there was still a job to do, "You could hide under my hat, or I could claim you as my pet. I could call you my sweet little 'Night'." "The hat option sounds far more preferable, sir. I'll transform back as soon as I can slip away." Vaska grumbled. "More virulent strains of vampirism grant individuals the ability to turn into a swarm of bats, or into a large and intimidating bat, or even a horrifying chiropteran monster. We samotar are the lowliest of parasites. Historically we snuck around with our tiny bodies, eating insects or biting the ankles of cows. Our vulnerability to stronger predators is unavoidable in either form, but best represented in this one." She made a scoffing noise. "That would definitely explain Vicker having a concussion where I hit that giant bat that tried to ambush me." Logan mused, unsure of how to feel about that different situation. He had honestly disregarded the stories of vampires automatically being able to turn into such things as legend based on some few polymorphs, but he supposed that he could turn into a wolf, himself, "Parasite shmarisite, you're adorable and I want to take you with me everywhere, now! It could be that I'm completely blinded by how precious you are, but I can no longer see anything at all wrong with your presence. You've got an apex predator protecting you, now! Plus you could always learn magic. My gods, would you please let me pet you? I swear, every sapient animal I've come across swears that I do a great job!" "Enlisting the aid of apex predators is how clans of samotaric vampires have survived into the modern age," Vaska lectured in her small voice, mouth not moving, even as she tried to flop on top of Logan's head to hide beneath his hat. "Consider this a temporary mutualism. My main loyalties are with the felines of House Sykora, may they enjoy an endless bounty." The request to pet her was impossible to ignore. "Regrettably, sir, I try to have at least a small amount of class even with this appearance. Will you take us into the Darkheart, now?" "Fine, but I still wanna pet you!" Logan said, tipping his hat up to help the little bat butler on top of his head, "And I'm one of the apexiest. Besides, class is all relative, and it'd make you feel so good, like a great massage." Into the Darkheart it was with them, then. The lighting was dim, easy on light-weary eyes, but seeming to have shadows and tings lurking in them just about everywhere. As advertised, everything was quiet save for the conversations of some patrons. All Logan had to do was say he was staying an extra week, put some coin on the bar, and be off to his room upstairs and be sure to lock the door behind him. In there, the room seemed rather standard though as dark as everywhere else. The bed was unkempt due to his laziness and simply not caring, though with a golden winged noodle resting peacefully on one of the pillows. At the foot of the bed was an opened sack sitting beside a thick tent-roll. The window was completely covered by the thick privacy drapes set upon it. Logan tipped his hat up and uttered quietly for the sake of his sleeping dragon, "Alright, looks like everything's dandy in here." |
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| Vaska | Sat Dec 30, 2017 10:20 am Post #11 |
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Using her flexible wings and their adjoining thumb-claws, Vaska maintained a firm grip on the top of Logan's furry head as he walked into the Darkheart. For a while everything was pitch black -- Vaska didn't even try to peek out from under the werewolf's hat. Then he tipped it up, revealing a dim room with some modest accommodations. Vaska noticed the small dragon sleeping nearby, which explained his quiet tone. "I'll be back soon, sir." With little more explanation than that, the tiny black bat took off into the typical erratic flight of her kind. She landed above the window frame, looking around the room and making a few squeaks from her mouth. Listening for the echo helped her get a good feel for the layout, supplementing her sight. The bat disappeared under the privacy curtains of the window, poking around for a gap to the outside. She managed to squeeze through a place where the seam between the windowframe and wall was damaged, emerging into the open air for a moment before doing an about-face to cling to the outside wall. Flying alone in the open air was a death wish, even in the middle of Balefire City. Best to stay in cover when occupying a shape that could be killed with alarming ease. That was why her fur was solid black, save for a single red dot of bioluminescence on her back that she could activate whenever she needed to quietly signal danger to other samotar. A vestigial trait, she thought, now that my clan abandoned the colony beneath the Sykora Mansion. Everyone but me. Staying beneath eaves, within darktrees or under small jutting features on the side of the building, Vaska surveyed the approach points around the building. Then she found Logan's window and squeezed her way through the crack, pulling herself with her claws and pushing herself through with her back feet. She fluttered across the room without a word and squeezed under the door, giving the hallway a look as well. When she was satisfied with her own knowledge of the area, the bat landed on the floor at the foot of Logan's bed and burst into black and red mana-smoke again. The plume expanded to a large enough size for the humanoid Vaska to emerge, still wearing her same immaculately arranged outfit. The butler slipped off her greatcoat and smoothed her suit around each shoulder, then gave the waistcoat a gentle tug. "Please pretend I'm not here, sir," she said, turning around to pull an unused chair toward the corner of the room. With her back to Logan and her greatcoat no longer worn, the large book chained to her hips and waist was evident. The chain was fastened into each end of the book's spine, keeping it hanging sturdy across the width of her lower back. It was leatherbound, old-looking. With a well-practiced motion she unclasped the rig of chains from her belt, freeing the book. Vaska took a seat on her chair in the corner, crossing her legs and thumbing through the pages with a disinterested look on her face. "Now we wait." |
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| Logan | Sat Dec 30, 2017 10:58 am Post #12 |
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"Okie dokie." Logan said, watching the little bat take to the air. It was not much more than a moment later when she began squeaking. Echolocation, practical for sussing things out, sure, but he had to suppress a giggle at just how adorable the little bat-Vaska's sound was. Fortunately he did not have to hold onto that for long as she found some way to wiggle her way out of the room for some reconnaissance, leaving the werewolf alone with the fly dragon that had been disturbed by the sudden noise. What's that? Twinkle yawned, lifting her tiny head from the pillow to look around the room, finding nothing more than the normal adventurer she knew. "A tiny little bat." Logan explained, sitting down at the foot of his messy bed. They eat my bugs. The dragon groggily thought into his mind, stretching out her wings before resting her head back on the pillow, not wanting to bother with wakefulness just yet. Perhaps when she was hungry, or if she had a bad dream, but neither of those were currently things to worry about. Her eyes shut just before the newest guest in the room returned, just missing the show of the transformation. "Oh, I get this feeling that you really don't want me pretending that you're not here." Logan smiled at the half-vampire with a quick raise of his eyebrows, though his eyes and his curiosity fixed to the book, he decided to see if he could get a reaction from her, "I can still vividly remember the last time I had a girl in my room. Unfortunately I'm getting the impression that this time isn't going to be anything like that one, is it? Of course, if I'm wrong, I definitely wouldn't mind." You said it was a bat. Twinkle said, opening an eye to examine the figure sitting down in a chair. Logan seemed fine with the new person, so the dragon paid little mind. "A tiny little vampire bat that also happens to be an incredibly attractive normal half-vampire girl." Logan nodded to the dragon and the projected thoughts. It took him a momentary pause to realize that might seem out of place to say from nowhere, but he shrugged the oddness of it away, "You're not going to give me the silent treatment for favor of that interesting piece of reading material, are you?" |
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| Vaska | Sun Dec 31, 2017 10:08 pm Post #13 |
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"Respectfully, I can't say an imminent ambush leaves me hot and bothered," Vaska quipped, looking at Logan instead of her book. "Call me traditional, I guess." Her pink eyes were hooded, lacking any hint of amusement. "I'm sure the lady with which you last shared a room had a good time, sir. You seem overly invested in the perspectives of others." Once again, she deliberately made her tone unclear -- the words could've been a compliment or a sarcastic dig. A Lakatos clan tradition, she supposed. The butler lifted a finger, hoping to silence any further propositioning the werewolf was likely to blurt out in response to what she said. Lacking the faintest idea as to what he saw in her, she assumed that his attentions were more out of availability and proximity. Maybe his level of sexual indiscretion -- that casual "I'm here if you want anything, wink wink" -- was normal in whatever culture he came from. "This 'interesting piece of reading material' is a family tree. The Sykora Family Registry, it's called. Considering your opinion of the House Sykora, I doubt you'd be interested in their historical minutiae." Logan couldn't help but smirk at the fair shots. Either adventuring, his bangle, or both combined had definitely changed his personality since he had started. Even though he knew before teasing that he'd be shot down like a bird with a well placed harpoon, there was certain fun to it. "Registry?" Logan nodded his head as he casually crossed his legs to have one act as a perch for his elbow propping up his chin, "Trying to figure out which member they're going to want you to gank next?" "I don't 'gank' them very often," the butler corrected. "Most of the time I collect the surviving members as soon as they're located. I forgot to mention that the main family underwent... an unfortunate disaster that has left much of them as formless, raging demon spirits. Just another night in Balefire, I suppose." Suppressing laughter at the casual mention of how the main family, to whom Logan could only assume we're exactly who she was directly serving, were apparently all dead. It came out as a curt snerk, spurred on by his presumptuously low opinions on them, "How unfortunate. Trying to figure out how to divvy up the last will and testaments?" "No. Their bodies might be dead, but they still have consciousness. They stay at the Sykora Mansion, giving me orders. I have to restore the House to its former glory. That means rebuilding the ruins and collecting surviving family members right now. In the future, it will mean learning how to construct new bodies for the ones who died. The Sykoras will reward me greatly, as I was the only member of the Lakatos colony who didn't abandon them after the disaster." There was a very easy crack to make there regarding sensibilities, but Logan refrained. Information was king in adventuring, and squandering an opportunity would prove folly, "Heavy. So you'll go from. . . What? Butler to Necromancer sculpting new bodies for a broken house? I guess that explains why you don't have to be concerned about killing members if you're catching their souls to rebuild later. But why all the trouble? Why not just grab them some golemized bodies to inhabit?" "My masters are demanding and picky, and many of them operate on logic known only to the family. My job is to follow orders, not think." Vaska had closed her book entirely and set it down on the floor so it leaned against her chair leg. Logan had been right. She preferred to have someone to talk to, anyway. "'Logic.'" Logan doubted audibly. Picky definitely sounded to align with his low expectations, though, "You know, in every job except enslavement, thinking helps your work. Wondering about reasoning and logistics can help you to better predict work before it becomes requested. Actually, it can help you in all aspects of life." "An astute observation, sir. What is your line of work? Or do you sustain yourself solely on... adventuring?" |
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| Logan | Sun Dec 31, 2017 11:30 pm Post #14 |
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"I'm a dungeon crawler, mostly. It's the most profitable, dangerous, unrewarding, and usually boring line of adventurer work. Go into old ruins, see if anything valuable got left behind, disarm traps and uncover lost horrors. A lot of it's freelance work based on rumors, but I also get contracted by the Academies of Magic a lot to clear out traps and hostiles." Logan said, leaning back on his bed, "Though when I come to Balefire, it's usually fighter missions to de-stress. I was about to leave before you warned me about the ambush. Either way, knowledge is power and preparedness aids survival, especially with luck as bad as mine." "It sounds like you get to travel to many places. You must have some interesting stories to tell, or at the least have met fascinating people. What's the strangest thing you've ever seen?" That took something thinking. Logan paused, his expression dropping as he looked to the corner of the room as if it had an answer for him. He wanted to avoid self-deprecating humor, to give a genuine answer, but it occurred to him that he could not, "The answer to that is that my sense of strange has been broken by this line of work. Though, if you want a story, I suppose the strangest one to say out loud is. . . I once fought a hydrokinetic clam alongside a necromancer." "A clam?" Vaska asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Did I hear you correctly?" "A clam." Logan nodded before reconsidering before reaching into the utility belt and pulling out a piece of shell that he had claimed from the encounter, "Or an oyster. I can never tell them apart. The point is, it was a mussel. Some number of years back, back when I first started adventuring, there were several of them causing trouble for sailors off the Western Coast. If I'm being honest, the necromancer did most of the heavy lifting, or more accurately, his flesh golems did." "Sounds like you've had an interesting life," Vaska said, smiling. "I take it back! No, there it is! I've found the most interesting thing I've seen!" Logan exclaimed jumping up from the bed, feeling overcome with joy and surprise, "Oh gods it more glorious than I imagined it would be! Your smile!" Vaska's face went from smiling to surprised, cheeks flushing. She laughed it off. "Unlikely, sir." "And a laugh to match!" Logan smiles wide before plopping his butt back down on the bed, his tail wagging behind him in genuine pleasure, "Now if this job kills me, I can at least die happy having seen and heard those." Clearing her throat in an attempt to clear the particular atmosphere of the conversation, Vaska looked away and adjusted her cravat as it sat against her neck. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a loud impact inside the Darkheart tavern and inn. Flinching, the half-vampire shot to her feet and began to slip off her gloves. Beneath the immaculate white cloth, her knuckles were covered in a latticework of scars and her hands were calloused from hard physical labor. "Are sounds like that normal in an institution like this?" "Eh, it can be." Logan said as he stood cautiously at the impact breaking the soundproofing, "If a business deal is going bad, or if somebody finds their other with another, or if a thrillseeking cultist with muddy berserker potions is hunting you. You know, the normal stuff, but we won't really know unless we go check or wait for them to visit us." "Stay here," Vaska said firmly. Her earlier blushing was still draining out of her face, but her eyes were determined. [color#c75d4d]"They could be disabling any token resistance on our way to us. Anything going on outside the window that you can see?"[/color] "Resistance? Not likely in a place like this. People die in these kinds of taverns all the time." Logan said, walking to the side of the window and carefully moving the drape to get a peek, just in case, "What am I looking for? A demonic catguy flipping me off? "Perhaps. Artur was always quite rude." "Oh, okay, cool, so that is him." Logan remarked with a sigh of relief. |
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| Vaska | Tue Jan 2, 2018 11:27 pm Post #15 |
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The casual, even relieved tone that Logan used to refer to the presence of Vaska's target made her take a moment or two to realize what he even said. She did a double-take. "Already?!" The butler shot onto her feet, fumbling to chain the book back against her lower back. "Shit!" When she was almost finished, a cataclysmic impact rocked the entire Darkheart Tavern and Inn. Vaska's world, for a split-second, became pain and airborne planks of wood. The sheer force of the straight-line wind burst tore off the room's ceiling and even the roof above, and it sent the butler ragdolling across the room amidst the spray of wood and brick chunks. She crashed into the opposite wall so hard that the wood cracked. Although she lost consciousness for a few seconds, she managed to open her eyes not too long after her body came to rest. Her irises flooded with a blood-red color. Clouds stained in unnatural colors swirled above the building, threatening to rain down water and ice at any moment. Vaska gritted her teeth and pulled her lips into a snarl, showing off two pairs of fangs on the top. "Master Sykora!" she roared at the top of her lungs. Now adjacent to the window, Vaska turned her head to glance outside as she readied herself for a fight. The man named Artur Sykora wore his classic Balefiren suit with pocket square and golden-plated watch, but now embellished the ensemble with small indicators of his new allegiance. He looked human except for a few stripes on his face, blue catlike eyes, and a pair of cat ears that blended seamlessly with his slicked black hair. He finished loading a canister of glowing green liquid into a customized crossbow. A guttural, demonic growl rolled up from Vaska's throat before she could suppress it. The sight of him alone made her furious. "Is that who I think it is?" Artur called up from ground level. He spoke in the same high-class Balefiren accent that Vaska herself used. "You're that bastard Sykora, aren't you? What was your name again?" "Master Artur, your family has need of you!" Vaska shouted over the clamor around them. Furrowing his brow, the Balefiren noble leaned forward and tilted his head as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Come again? Aren't they all dead? Even my uncle, who went and [removed]ed one of his own servants and didn't have the common decency to toss you in the trash?" They came rushing in from every direction: men and women with milky-white eyes. Some of them were covered in twitching, unnatural muscle. Others leaped around with incredible agility, throwing their bodies toward the fight as their faces were pinned in an uncontrollably wide smile. Vaska rolled her shoulders and cracked her knuckles, backing up so she was closer to Logan in the middle of their ruined room. Their enemies closed in, spewing mana vapor from their open mouths. They all charged simultaneously as thunder and lightning exploded from the unnatural storm. From a distance, Artur aimed through the sights of his modified crossbow. |
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8:38 AM Jul 11

