((This thread takes place at approximately the same time as "Aftermath": http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=1178))
((NPC Post))
Lord Barmitheon Panterras was advancing the knowledge of magic, or so he told himself, in spite of all his frustrations. It seemed this latest experiment had been a failure too. Just like all the others.
He pressed a hand to the girl’s forehead, his manner clinical rather than comforting. Still feverish. That was disappointing. The girl didn’t open her eyes.
It had been nearly three hours since he had transfused her with the demon blood, and he could see no result but the fever. The first time he had tried it he had looked for some dramatic change, glowing red eyes or horns or powers of levitation or… something. With each following attempt his hopes had grown less and less. Now he strained to see any result at all, and even that was beginning to seem unlikely.
The girl didn’t speak. She couldn’t, hadn’t been able to for years. Panterras had gotten used to the silence. Still kneeling over her, he regarded her as she lay on the floor. Her skin was pale, a startling contrast to the black shift she wore, and she had auburn hair. Her eyes were green, he recalled, though they were currently closed. Although Panterras was a poor judge of such things, he supposed she would have been pretty but for the horrific deformities that afflicted her. Her legs and spine were painfully twisted, severely limiting her mobility, and her hands were as gnarled as an arthritic old woman’s. Panterras didn’t feel any empathy for her— the only interest she held for him was as a test subject— but the sight of her reminded him how little he had accomplished.
He stood and sighed. Today’s experiment too seemed to have failed, and he felt, as he often did, that time was slipping by too fast. He was an old man now, nearly seventy. He didn’t have many more years, or much more time for fruitless labours.
Panterras knew that his work was taking a toll on his physical health. His skin was as pallid as old milk and he had dark circles under his eyes… eyes which had somehow turned yellow as a cat’s from the dark magic he channeled on a regular basis. At least he still dressed well. His robes were of a thick, dark velvet, and his boots were well-cut and expensive. He wore a ruby ring, and a matching stone on a chain around his neck. His snow-white hair was meticulously combed. He looked every inch the hereditary lord that he was. That was something, at least.
Finished with the girl for the time being, he left the room, locking the door behind him as he stepped into the outer chamber that adjoined it. This was a typical if small ground-floor flat: a main room unfurnished except for a makeshift desk, and an attached rear bedroom containing a mattress and a battered chest of drawers. Both rooms were windowless, and only a single door from the front room provided street access. Not the sort of lodgings Panterras preferred— his version of comfortable accommodations would be what most people would call luxurious and sumptuous— but he had to make do with what he could find, as he had for the last unfortunate decade. His luck would be changing soon, or so he hoped.
The only thing he did like about the flat, and in fact the thing that had enticed him to choose it in the first place in spite of his ability to pay for something better, was that it drew little notice. It was in a nondescript building in a nondescript neighbourhood, not wealthy enough to attract thieves, but not poor enough to be a temptation for the crime bosses who took advantage of the wretched poverty that was the lot of the truly unfortunate. Panterras didn’t know his neighbours, and they didn’t know him. They didn’t care what he did as long as their own mundane lives weren’t affected, and he was careful to keep his less… socially acceptable… activities to himself. That was why he had chosen this location, this flat. He could not afford to be noticed. Yet. There would be a time, he assured himself, when not only all of Marn or all of Thar Shaddin would know his name, but all the world would revere his genius.
Panterras sat down at the desk and pulled his log book toward him. Years of notes about his experiments on the girl, all laid down meticulously in his neat hand. Every spell and ritual he had tried, every potion he had poured down her throat, every transfusion of blood from demons and devils and any other magical creature he could lay his hands on. Every failure. He had succeeded only in crippling the girl with the painful deformities his experiments had caused and, he supposed, in traumatizing her in the process. He had learned nothing about the nature of evil, nothing about the forces that corrupted a human soul. All his hard work had, in the end, been wasted.
Reading back over his previous entries, he realized that it was the girl’s thirteenth birthday today, a fact which actually inspired a rare moment of sympathy… or at least such sympathy as he was still capable of. Kira, her name was Kira. His own daughter, his flesh and blood.
For the knowledge of magic to advance, sacrifices had to be made. A tragic necessity. She would have her rest soon enough. There was a limit to how much the human body could take, and Kira’s condition was rapidly approaching that limit. In the meantime, his work must go on.
After jotting down careful but terse notes on the evening’s observations, he slid the log book back into its place, closed and locked the desk drawer, and tucked the key back in his pocket. It wouldn’t do for his guest to see the book, at least not till he was more certain who he could trust.
Who this guest might be, he didn’t know. Young or old, male or female, rich or poor… or even if anyone was coming at all. All he knew was that he had passed along the information— in the less savoury parts of town, of course— that he was looking to hire an employee with certain… skills, and would provide ample pay for the service. He had let it be known where he would be, and when he would meet with his prospective employee, should anyone choose to take him up on his offer. Panterras needed a spy. And he very much hoped a spy would be meeting him tonight. With this in mind, he had left the door to the flat unlocked and slightly ajar, and remained seated at his desk, waiting to see who entered.
Employment Opportunity: Only Spies Need Apply
-
Lylessa Uluki
- Citizen
- Posts: 669
- Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2007 12:12 am
- Name: Uluki
- Race: Duskling - Fae
Employment Opportunity: Only Spies Need Apply
Last edited by Lylessa Uluki on Tue May 13, 2008 3:25 am, edited 1 time in total.
The door rattled slightly, then was still. Outside the flat, a young street urchin who couldn't believe his look was running away with five Bishani for his trouble. While the old man was distracted, his bedroom door opened with a gentle click and a black-clad figure stood behind him.
"You advertised for a spy, Lord Panterras," a voice said. The voice belonged to Quinn, looking a few good inches taller than she was thanks to the new boots, decked out in figure-hugging clothes of pitch-black; a long sleeved shirt, pants and knee-length boots. A scarf of blazing scarlet covered her nose and mouth, and her newly dyed black hair obscured the rest of her face. It was how a spy should look and she was very proud of it.
Make an entrance, that was the key. He can't doubt your skills if you demonstrate them. It also puts him slightly on edge. More on edge, Quinn read into his body language, than most people. Hmm. Somebody has a secret. May have to use that to my advantage.
In Quinn's world, if you weren't at least in a position to scam someone, you were the sucker. She extended a gloved hand to Panterras.
"You'll understand that in my profession names are something of an inconvenience," she said. Her voiced was tinged with an accent, nonspecific, but definitely outside Thar Shaddin. You could hardly ever go wrong with being foreign. "For the sake of neccessity, please refer to me as... X."
That was almost too over the top, but the old man looked like he didn't get out much, so she felt she could probably get away with it.
"You advertised for a spy, Lord Panterras," a voice said. The voice belonged to Quinn, looking a few good inches taller than she was thanks to the new boots, decked out in figure-hugging clothes of pitch-black; a long sleeved shirt, pants and knee-length boots. A scarf of blazing scarlet covered her nose and mouth, and her newly dyed black hair obscured the rest of her face. It was how a spy should look and she was very proud of it.
Make an entrance, that was the key. He can't doubt your skills if you demonstrate them. It also puts him slightly on edge. More on edge, Quinn read into his body language, than most people. Hmm. Somebody has a secret. May have to use that to my advantage.
In Quinn's world, if you weren't at least in a position to scam someone, you were the sucker. She extended a gloved hand to Panterras.
"You'll understand that in my profession names are something of an inconvenience," she said. Her voiced was tinged with an accent, nonspecific, but definitely outside Thar Shaddin. You could hardly ever go wrong with being foreign. "For the sake of neccessity, please refer to me as... X."
That was almost too over the top, but the old man looked like he didn't get out much, so she felt she could probably get away with it.
-
Lylessa Uluki
- Citizen
- Posts: 669
- Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2007 12:12 am
- Name: Uluki
- Race: Duskling - Fae
((NPC Post))
Panterras was extremely taken aback. He’d expected some kind of entrance like this, something theatrical, meant to impress him. He hadn’t planned on anyone getting into the bedroom, and in fact had no idea how she had managed it. She must have done so when he was distracted by the door; he cursed himself for falling for such a silly ploy, especially when he had been watching and waiting for her.
Now he wasn’t quite sure how much this confounded woman had seen. There was some chance she had not noticed Kira, lying on the floor in the dark room wearing her black dress, unable to speak and, given how ill she was at the moment, barely able to move. If this woman had been mostly focused on startling Panterras himself, she might have missed seeing the girl.
Might have… but it wasn’t a chance he could take. He could no longer risk picking and choosing whether to form a business relationship with this woman. He would either have to hire her or pay her off.
“I’m glad you’ve chosen to join me, my lady. X, if you prefer.” That seemed a little much to him— he didn’t expect her real name, but she might have given him a plausible false one— but he supposed that was the way things were done. This woman had style, he’d give her that. Style was something he could work with, and could certainly appreciate. “My name is Panterras, as you already know.”
His attention was distracted by the now unlocked bedroom door, and the fact that the door to the street was also still slightly open. Now he was in a bind. Locking the door would be an advertisement he was hiding something in there, and this woman would only pop the lock again the second his back was turned, and investigate what. He knew she would, he knew her type.
Deciding he was more worried about what this woman was capable of than the very slight chance Kira might have the ability to take advantage of the opportunity, he ignored the problem for the moment. Kira had known no other life, not since she was a tiny child and he was… softer, less devoted to his work. Less willing to make personal sacrifices. He’d given her no cause to think kindness existed, nor that anyone would ever feel any sympathy for her. The unlocked doors might give Kira a chance for escape, but why would she take it? She had no reason to think what was outside the door was any better. He relaxed.
“Enough pleasantries. I’ve asked you to join me here because I have a business proposition for you. I have need of someone with your skills,” he said, cutting straight to the chase. “Allow me to explain, and then you can decide if this is an employment situation you can accept. We can also discuss terms. I assure you, I can afford to pay you well for your services.” He was now determined to hire her, so he might as well get all this out of the way.
“There is a man who was once my close colleague. We worked together for many years, and I came to consider him a personal friend. However, we suffered some… professional setbacks, and lost contact due to circumstances outside our control. I have recently located him, and hoped to renew at least our business relationship and, if all went well, our friendship. This man has proven a great asset to me in the past.” Never his equal, not really, but Rollick had been useful. Panterras had actually indeed once cared about Rollick on a personal level… back when Panterras had cared about anyone, of course. He had no time for things like friendship anymore.
“Unfortunately, my friend has lost sight of his priorities. He has given up power and greatness to pander to the needs of the weak, the destitute, and the masses of humanity at their most base level. His time and attention are absorbed with people who don’t matter.” The disappointment behind those words was genuine; he had expected better from Rollick. Had Rollick just settled, or had he really lost his ambition? It was a shame either way.
“To make matters worse, he’s lost his head over a girl. He’s been seduced by a little fairy tart, and he’s completely besotted with her. This witch has cast a spell over him, and he seems to be utterly in her power, to the point she’s even coerced him to father her child.” Panterras had considered claiming the baby wasn’t Rollick’s and Uluki had tricked him into believing it was. That would have been a more dramatic lie, more likely to inspire sympathy… but no, it wouldn’t work. Uluki had managed to produce a spawn that looked too much like the father; questioning the paternity would only cast doubt on all of the other, more important claims.
“This woman is at worst a harmful influence and at best a… distraction. In time, I hope the situation will be remedied. I don’t want the woman or the baby killed, of course.” The plan was for them to die— clearly there was no other option— but he would do it himself. Having someone else kill them would mean their remains would likely be wasted, and Dusklings intrigued him, as he assumed they would anyone who took a scientific approach to magic. So much magic in the blood; it wouldn’t do to have it spilled before he could study it. He would take them apart and see how they worked, the Fae woman and her strange hybrid child, but they couldn’t die yet.
“What I do want is for someone to infiltrate the place they’ve been living… it’s somewhat like a cross between a military base and a refugee camp. I want reports of their behaviour, my friend’s and his wife’s, and anyone who associates with them. I want to know everything that goes on in that place.” Scrying had its uses, but it offered only bits and pieces. Glimpses, but never the whole. That whole was what he needed to see.
“I can’t go myself, because my friend would recognize me instantly, and I am not ready to make my presence known yet, not till I am sure that he can still be trusted. I must be sure that he still has the strength to do what needs to be done. I also must know what hold this woman… this deceitful fairy slut… has on him.” Aside from the obvious, of course. If she was anything more to Rollick than a bed toy, Panterras needed to know.
“You would need to walk carefully, and keep your eyes and ears open without drawing too much attention to yourself. I cannot have a confrontation provoked at this time. Both of them are quite dangerous, and they have a number of devoted, or possibly even bewitched friends. They are also guarded by two magical constructs: soulless, empty creatures. You must watch out for these diabolical beings, which they pretend are their daughters. The blond one is strong but simple, and is likely harmless to you unless you provoke her. Watch out for the smaller, winged one. That one is crafty, and is always watching.”
“There is another girl too, one who seems to spend a lot of time with the family lately.” Panterras couldn’t figure out where she fit in. His contacts had managed to produce the information that she was a whore, but that didn’t tell him what she was doing hanging around them so often. “I need you to find out why. What benefit do they see in her? What purpose does she serve?” The whore probably wasn’t important, but he must leave no stone unturned. The other companions made sense, the strong warriors and the helpful peasants who were likely domestic servants, but he wanted to know about that girl.
“I must confess I have a rather… personal… dislike of the fairy woman. I need information. That is priority. But I would not take it amiss to see her punished for her crimes, which I can assure you are many. Anything short of her death.”
He stared at the woman steadily. The last time he’d hired someone for such a thing, for spying and reporting, he had considered it only a moderate success. He’d received some useful information, but that was balanced by shifting loyalties and an impetuous streak that had caused infinite trouble. That was just before things had crumbled. Uluki had received some scars. Panterras had lost everything. She would pay for that. The idea made him smile, but with his eyes on the woman he hoped to hire, it would seem he was smiling at her.
“Are you the sort of person I could rely on for such a job? If so, how would you accomplish it?”
His mind fully occupied with the mysterious woman and his rambling series of requests, he didn’t notice that the bedroom door was slowly opening, only by fractions but steadily. With his back turned, he also did not see the girl crawling on her belly, pressed to the floor, silently inching her way across the room toward the outer door. That was the one thing Kira could do well— silence.
Panterras had underestimated his daughter’s will to live. She didn’t think she was running away to anything better. She didn’t think leaving would stop the pain. She didn’t think anyone would really care about her. Her father had made sure she would never have such ideas. Kira knew that she was dying, though. She knew what he was doing was killing her, and that she didn’t have much time left. And somehow, in spite of everything, Kira was stubbornly determined to live.
Making her way across the floor was a difficult task. Crawling across the room without her father noticing would have been hard enough anyway, but her physical disabilities made the movements themselves hard labour.
There was no possible way the woman had avoided seeing her. Keeping herself out of the line of her father’s vision meant she was directly in his guest’s. Kira stopped for a moment and looked up at her, eyes pleading silently. She could only wait and see if the woman would call out what was going on and condemn her, or allow her to make her escape.
Panterras was extremely taken aback. He’d expected some kind of entrance like this, something theatrical, meant to impress him. He hadn’t planned on anyone getting into the bedroom, and in fact had no idea how she had managed it. She must have done so when he was distracted by the door; he cursed himself for falling for such a silly ploy, especially when he had been watching and waiting for her.
Now he wasn’t quite sure how much this confounded woman had seen. There was some chance she had not noticed Kira, lying on the floor in the dark room wearing her black dress, unable to speak and, given how ill she was at the moment, barely able to move. If this woman had been mostly focused on startling Panterras himself, she might have missed seeing the girl.
Might have… but it wasn’t a chance he could take. He could no longer risk picking and choosing whether to form a business relationship with this woman. He would either have to hire her or pay her off.
“I’m glad you’ve chosen to join me, my lady. X, if you prefer.” That seemed a little much to him— he didn’t expect her real name, but she might have given him a plausible false one— but he supposed that was the way things were done. This woman had style, he’d give her that. Style was something he could work with, and could certainly appreciate. “My name is Panterras, as you already know.”
His attention was distracted by the now unlocked bedroom door, and the fact that the door to the street was also still slightly open. Now he was in a bind. Locking the door would be an advertisement he was hiding something in there, and this woman would only pop the lock again the second his back was turned, and investigate what. He knew she would, he knew her type.
Deciding he was more worried about what this woman was capable of than the very slight chance Kira might have the ability to take advantage of the opportunity, he ignored the problem for the moment. Kira had known no other life, not since she was a tiny child and he was… softer, less devoted to his work. Less willing to make personal sacrifices. He’d given her no cause to think kindness existed, nor that anyone would ever feel any sympathy for her. The unlocked doors might give Kira a chance for escape, but why would she take it? She had no reason to think what was outside the door was any better. He relaxed.
“Enough pleasantries. I’ve asked you to join me here because I have a business proposition for you. I have need of someone with your skills,” he said, cutting straight to the chase. “Allow me to explain, and then you can decide if this is an employment situation you can accept. We can also discuss terms. I assure you, I can afford to pay you well for your services.” He was now determined to hire her, so he might as well get all this out of the way.
“There is a man who was once my close colleague. We worked together for many years, and I came to consider him a personal friend. However, we suffered some… professional setbacks, and lost contact due to circumstances outside our control. I have recently located him, and hoped to renew at least our business relationship and, if all went well, our friendship. This man has proven a great asset to me in the past.” Never his equal, not really, but Rollick had been useful. Panterras had actually indeed once cared about Rollick on a personal level… back when Panterras had cared about anyone, of course. He had no time for things like friendship anymore.
“Unfortunately, my friend has lost sight of his priorities. He has given up power and greatness to pander to the needs of the weak, the destitute, and the masses of humanity at their most base level. His time and attention are absorbed with people who don’t matter.” The disappointment behind those words was genuine; he had expected better from Rollick. Had Rollick just settled, or had he really lost his ambition? It was a shame either way.
“To make matters worse, he’s lost his head over a girl. He’s been seduced by a little fairy tart, and he’s completely besotted with her. This witch has cast a spell over him, and he seems to be utterly in her power, to the point she’s even coerced him to father her child.” Panterras had considered claiming the baby wasn’t Rollick’s and Uluki had tricked him into believing it was. That would have been a more dramatic lie, more likely to inspire sympathy… but no, it wouldn’t work. Uluki had managed to produce a spawn that looked too much like the father; questioning the paternity would only cast doubt on all of the other, more important claims.
“This woman is at worst a harmful influence and at best a… distraction. In time, I hope the situation will be remedied. I don’t want the woman or the baby killed, of course.” The plan was for them to die— clearly there was no other option— but he would do it himself. Having someone else kill them would mean their remains would likely be wasted, and Dusklings intrigued him, as he assumed they would anyone who took a scientific approach to magic. So much magic in the blood; it wouldn’t do to have it spilled before he could study it. He would take them apart and see how they worked, the Fae woman and her strange hybrid child, but they couldn’t die yet.
“What I do want is for someone to infiltrate the place they’ve been living… it’s somewhat like a cross between a military base and a refugee camp. I want reports of their behaviour, my friend’s and his wife’s, and anyone who associates with them. I want to know everything that goes on in that place.” Scrying had its uses, but it offered only bits and pieces. Glimpses, but never the whole. That whole was what he needed to see.
“I can’t go myself, because my friend would recognize me instantly, and I am not ready to make my presence known yet, not till I am sure that he can still be trusted. I must be sure that he still has the strength to do what needs to be done. I also must know what hold this woman… this deceitful fairy slut… has on him.” Aside from the obvious, of course. If she was anything more to Rollick than a bed toy, Panterras needed to know.
“You would need to walk carefully, and keep your eyes and ears open without drawing too much attention to yourself. I cannot have a confrontation provoked at this time. Both of them are quite dangerous, and they have a number of devoted, or possibly even bewitched friends. They are also guarded by two magical constructs: soulless, empty creatures. You must watch out for these diabolical beings, which they pretend are their daughters. The blond one is strong but simple, and is likely harmless to you unless you provoke her. Watch out for the smaller, winged one. That one is crafty, and is always watching.”
“There is another girl too, one who seems to spend a lot of time with the family lately.” Panterras couldn’t figure out where she fit in. His contacts had managed to produce the information that she was a whore, but that didn’t tell him what she was doing hanging around them so often. “I need you to find out why. What benefit do they see in her? What purpose does she serve?” The whore probably wasn’t important, but he must leave no stone unturned. The other companions made sense, the strong warriors and the helpful peasants who were likely domestic servants, but he wanted to know about that girl.
“I must confess I have a rather… personal… dislike of the fairy woman. I need information. That is priority. But I would not take it amiss to see her punished for her crimes, which I can assure you are many. Anything short of her death.”
He stared at the woman steadily. The last time he’d hired someone for such a thing, for spying and reporting, he had considered it only a moderate success. He’d received some useful information, but that was balanced by shifting loyalties and an impetuous streak that had caused infinite trouble. That was just before things had crumbled. Uluki had received some scars. Panterras had lost everything. She would pay for that. The idea made him smile, but with his eyes on the woman he hoped to hire, it would seem he was smiling at her.
“Are you the sort of person I could rely on for such a job? If so, how would you accomplish it?”
His mind fully occupied with the mysterious woman and his rambling series of requests, he didn’t notice that the bedroom door was slowly opening, only by fractions but steadily. With his back turned, he also did not see the girl crawling on her belly, pressed to the floor, silently inching her way across the room toward the outer door. That was the one thing Kira could do well— silence.
Panterras had underestimated his daughter’s will to live. She didn’t think she was running away to anything better. She didn’t think leaving would stop the pain. She didn’t think anyone would really care about her. Her father had made sure she would never have such ideas. Kira knew that she was dying, though. She knew what he was doing was killing her, and that she didn’t have much time left. And somehow, in spite of everything, Kira was stubbornly determined to live.
Making her way across the floor was a difficult task. Crawling across the room without her father noticing would have been hard enough anyway, but her physical disabilities made the movements themselves hard labour.
There was no possible way the woman had avoided seeing her. Keeping herself out of the line of her father’s vision meant she was directly in his guest’s. Kira stopped for a moment and looked up at her, eyes pleading silently. She could only wait and see if the woman would call out what was going on and condemn her, or allow her to make her escape.
As Panterras spoke, Quinn could see in her mind how she would accomplish all this... I think I still have those rags in Miss Artix's box. Panterras moral judgements of Rollick she let wash over her as irrelevant to her job, and registered them only as further evidence for her theory that her new employer was slightly away with the fairies - heh - so to speak. The fairy sounded more interesting than Panterras old friend - a bit of a femme fatale perhaps? The job sounded sufficiently crooked and dangerous anyway. Quinn had been doing card tricks far too long, and she missed crooked and dangerous.
“Are you the sort of person I could rely on for such a job? If so, how would you accomplish it?”
Although Quinn was extremely practised at keeping her face impassive, the sight of a young girl crawling on her stomach accross the floor pushed her to a slight raise of an eyebrow. She disguised it as a response to what Panterras was saying, always preferring to hide something until she'd decided what to do with it. She cursed her normally quite good instincts for not telling her she and Panterras were not alone in the flat. The girl must have been utterly silent... She knew this sort of thing happened, though. Old, rich men taking young girls off the street, either hired or outright owned, for their sick pleasures.. it would have been hard to tell whether, had Quinn known what use Kira was being put to, she would have been more or less disgusted. The girl caught her eyes for a second before she looked away, making sure now not to look at the girl, so as not to direct the old man's attention over to her.
Her mind was made up in less than a second. She kept her eyes on Panterras and began to reply, while simutaneously shuffling her feet on occaision, or fingering her 'assassin-y' stage jewellery - both actions focal points for a speaker and creating unobtrusive sound to cover any noise that might be made by a body sliding over the floor. Quinn gave him her Dashing Rogue grin. "You can count on me, milord.
"I will disguise myself and infiltrate your friend's camp. My own sources," some guys I met at the Ale Star, she filled in mentally, "tell me this camp is providing refuge for some ex-prostitutes and various other denizens of the streets." She watched, carefully, to see if Panterras' face would react to the word 'prostitute', but it didn't. "I'll probably disguise myself as one of them. In this way I will be able to find my way into your friend and the fairy's inner circle and gather information on them. I will communicate with you by letter, if that is acceptable. This will have to be one way for the most part, as I cannot usually receive letters while incognito. But I will ensure you know everything you need to know." She flashed up her 'trust me' smile, her eyes flickering just once to the floor to see how far the girl had managed to get.
“Are you the sort of person I could rely on for such a job? If so, how would you accomplish it?”
Although Quinn was extremely practised at keeping her face impassive, the sight of a young girl crawling on her stomach accross the floor pushed her to a slight raise of an eyebrow. She disguised it as a response to what Panterras was saying, always preferring to hide something until she'd decided what to do with it. She cursed her normally quite good instincts for not telling her she and Panterras were not alone in the flat. The girl must have been utterly silent... She knew this sort of thing happened, though. Old, rich men taking young girls off the street, either hired or outright owned, for their sick pleasures.. it would have been hard to tell whether, had Quinn known what use Kira was being put to, she would have been more or less disgusted. The girl caught her eyes for a second before she looked away, making sure now not to look at the girl, so as not to direct the old man's attention over to her.
Her mind was made up in less than a second. She kept her eyes on Panterras and began to reply, while simutaneously shuffling her feet on occaision, or fingering her 'assassin-y' stage jewellery - both actions focal points for a speaker and creating unobtrusive sound to cover any noise that might be made by a body sliding over the floor. Quinn gave him her Dashing Rogue grin. "You can count on me, milord.
"I will disguise myself and infiltrate your friend's camp. My own sources," some guys I met at the Ale Star, she filled in mentally, "tell me this camp is providing refuge for some ex-prostitutes and various other denizens of the streets." She watched, carefully, to see if Panterras' face would react to the word 'prostitute', but it didn't. "I'll probably disguise myself as one of them. In this way I will be able to find my way into your friend and the fairy's inner circle and gather information on them. I will communicate with you by letter, if that is acceptable. This will have to be one way for the most part, as I cannot usually receive letters while incognito. But I will ensure you know everything you need to know." She flashed up her 'trust me' smile, her eyes flickering just once to the floor to see how far the girl had managed to get.
-
Lylessa Uluki
- Citizen
- Posts: 669
- Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2007 12:12 am
- Name: Uluki
- Race: Duskling - Fae
((NPC Post))
Panterras smiled, relieved. He had thought this might be a harder sell. “This all sounds most excellent. I shall contact you in a case of dire need, but otherwise I shall await your reports.”
He took the desk key out of his pocket and unlocked a drawer— an upper drawer, not the one that held the log book. He withdrew a small bag containing a more than generous number of coins, and slid it across the desk toward her.
“This should cover your starting expenses. You will receive more when your information proves useful to me. Remember, even that which seems mundane may be crucial, so I encourage you to be as thorough as possible in your reports.”
By this time Kira had reached the door. She turned and smiled at her father’s guest, grateful for the help and the distraction. She couldn’t recall the last time anyone had helped her, or the last time she had smiled. The facial expression looked a little rusty, as though her mouth wasn’t used to showing positive emotion, but it was the best she could do. Kira paused only a fraction of a second to express her silent thanks, and then she was gone.
Panterras noticed nothing. Quinn’s distraction had worked. Kira’s father continued prattling about the job as his daughter and victim finally slipped from his grasp.
“The people you will seek are named Rollick, who is my friend, and Uluki, the fairy witch. You must, of course, pretend not to know this when you arrive, but I tell you so you may be on the lookout for them. Rollick is a swordsman, grey-haired and older than his comrades. The fairy is short and has blue skin. She is easy to recognize.”
“You must not allow her to deceive you.” There was suddenly something like anger in his voice, or maybe desperation. “She presents a kind face and pleasant demeanour, and will treat you well. Do not allow yourself to fall prey to her evil tricks. She is not to be trusted.” Panterras was speaking significantly more about Uluki than Rollick, but his anger and hatred for her were overwhelming the faint nostalgia and vague hopes for an ally. “Never forget that she is deceitful and wicked.”
“Whatever she has planned must not succeed. So far as you can sabotage her efforts— and those of all at the compound upon whom she has influence— without drawing attention to yourself, I encourage you to do so. It is no more than she deserves, and the others deserve for sheltering her.” Panterras was getting worked up, his voice becoming loud and his face twisting unpleasantly. He forced himself to relax, and assumed a calm and, he hoped, pleasant smile.
“Do you have any further questions before you commence your employment?”
Meanwhile out on the street, Kira was putting distance between herself and her father as quickly as she could. Her pace was always slow and she limped heavily, so she didn’t make very good time, but she was deeply determined. She was never going back. He was never going to find her.
He wasn’t going to Scry for her, either. She had anticipated that he would try, of course he would, and she didn’t intend to be so easily found. The chain of the obsidian pennant he used as his Scrying focus was wrapped around her twisted, almost useless hand. She had taken nothing else from him, nothing but her own self, and that didn’t belong to him anyway. Without the pennant as focus, he wouldn’t find her by magic.
Kira had made up her mind where she would go… the one place her father would never expect. That kind woman who had helped her escape would be seeing her again, very soon in fact, because Kira was going to find the Blue Lady too.
She was a little afraid. Her father had told her of the Blue Lady’s cruelty and evil magic. Panterras often talked to Kira even though she couldn’t answer, she assumed mainly to hear his own voice. She had no doubt what he said about the woman was true. The whole world was cruel. The Blue Lady was part of the world, and she would be just as ruthless as anyone else. No one could be trusted. Kira would give her the pennant, and maybe that would buy a few pain-free days. After that… it would hurt just as much, but at least Kira would be alive. That was all Kira had, her own life, and she didn’t intend to let go of it.
Panterras smiled, relieved. He had thought this might be a harder sell. “This all sounds most excellent. I shall contact you in a case of dire need, but otherwise I shall await your reports.”
He took the desk key out of his pocket and unlocked a drawer— an upper drawer, not the one that held the log book. He withdrew a small bag containing a more than generous number of coins, and slid it across the desk toward her.
“This should cover your starting expenses. You will receive more when your information proves useful to me. Remember, even that which seems mundane may be crucial, so I encourage you to be as thorough as possible in your reports.”
By this time Kira had reached the door. She turned and smiled at her father’s guest, grateful for the help and the distraction. She couldn’t recall the last time anyone had helped her, or the last time she had smiled. The facial expression looked a little rusty, as though her mouth wasn’t used to showing positive emotion, but it was the best she could do. Kira paused only a fraction of a second to express her silent thanks, and then she was gone.
Panterras noticed nothing. Quinn’s distraction had worked. Kira’s father continued prattling about the job as his daughter and victim finally slipped from his grasp.
“The people you will seek are named Rollick, who is my friend, and Uluki, the fairy witch. You must, of course, pretend not to know this when you arrive, but I tell you so you may be on the lookout for them. Rollick is a swordsman, grey-haired and older than his comrades. The fairy is short and has blue skin. She is easy to recognize.”
“You must not allow her to deceive you.” There was suddenly something like anger in his voice, or maybe desperation. “She presents a kind face and pleasant demeanour, and will treat you well. Do not allow yourself to fall prey to her evil tricks. She is not to be trusted.” Panterras was speaking significantly more about Uluki than Rollick, but his anger and hatred for her were overwhelming the faint nostalgia and vague hopes for an ally. “Never forget that she is deceitful and wicked.”
“Whatever she has planned must not succeed. So far as you can sabotage her efforts— and those of all at the compound upon whom she has influence— without drawing attention to yourself, I encourage you to do so. It is no more than she deserves, and the others deserve for sheltering her.” Panterras was getting worked up, his voice becoming loud and his face twisting unpleasantly. He forced himself to relax, and assumed a calm and, he hoped, pleasant smile.
“Do you have any further questions before you commence your employment?”
Meanwhile out on the street, Kira was putting distance between herself and her father as quickly as she could. Her pace was always slow and she limped heavily, so she didn’t make very good time, but she was deeply determined. She was never going back. He was never going to find her.
He wasn’t going to Scry for her, either. She had anticipated that he would try, of course he would, and she didn’t intend to be so easily found. The chain of the obsidian pennant he used as his Scrying focus was wrapped around her twisted, almost useless hand. She had taken nothing else from him, nothing but her own self, and that didn’t belong to him anyway. Without the pennant as focus, he wouldn’t find her by magic.
Kira had made up her mind where she would go… the one place her father would never expect. That kind woman who had helped her escape would be seeing her again, very soon in fact, because Kira was going to find the Blue Lady too.
She was a little afraid. Her father had told her of the Blue Lady’s cruelty and evil magic. Panterras often talked to Kira even though she couldn’t answer, she assumed mainly to hear his own voice. She had no doubt what he said about the woman was true. The whole world was cruel. The Blue Lady was part of the world, and she would be just as ruthless as anyone else. No one could be trusted. Kira would give her the pennant, and maybe that would buy a few pain-free days. After that… it would hurt just as much, but at least Kira would be alive. That was all Kira had, her own life, and she didn’t intend to let go of it.
Keeping her eyes fixed on Panterras, Quinn placed a hand on the money bag but did not lift it. It was an old, old trick of hers that communicated her desire to hang on to the money but that the conversation was, in a definite way, not over. It was a fair bet that there was more to the nobleman than met the eye. There was more to most people than met the eye, and when it came to older people of noble blood who evidently have money yet choose to live in fairly bland surroundings that they're nervous about other people entering, the probability was almost a hundred percent. With such people, it always did to be in control of the situation. She was only almost finished with him.
As her eyes flickered towards the door, she caught the girl's attempt at a smile and, on the inside, returned it. It had been a while since Quinn's heart had been warmed by anything, but that moment gave her a brief idea of what it must have been like.
“Do you have any further questions before you commence your employment?”
Quinn glanced up. She hadn't really been concentrating, but when she focused, she found her memory of his diatribe apparently unnaffected by lack of attention.
"I have one question, yes." She smiled. Time to take a gamble and lie. "Are you aware that you have mice? There is a hole behind your wardrobe through which you can see right into the adjoining room." Noblemen did not, as a rule, like their indiscretions with young women to become public knowledge. "It is a matter for your attention."
No threats, yet. Let him simmer gently. Inwardly smirking at a job well done, she picked up the money. "Good day, sir."
As her eyes flickered towards the door, she caught the girl's attempt at a smile and, on the inside, returned it. It had been a while since Quinn's heart had been warmed by anything, but that moment gave her a brief idea of what it must have been like.
“Do you have any further questions before you commence your employment?”
Quinn glanced up. She hadn't really been concentrating, but when she focused, she found her memory of his diatribe apparently unnaffected by lack of attention.
"I have one question, yes." She smiled. Time to take a gamble and lie. "Are you aware that you have mice? There is a hole behind your wardrobe through which you can see right into the adjoining room." Noblemen did not, as a rule, like their indiscretions with young women to become public knowledge. "It is a matter for your attention."
No threats, yet. Let him simmer gently. Inwardly smirking at a job well done, she picked up the money. "Good day, sir."
-
Lylessa Uluki
- Citizen
- Posts: 669
- Joined: Thu Jun 14, 2007 12:12 am
- Name: Uluki
- Race: Duskling - Fae
((NPC Post))
Panterras blanched for a moment, his skin turning even paler, then his whole face reddened. Now that she had brought up the subject, he turned and saw that the bedroom door was standing wide open. He had little doubt that Kira was already long gone. Damn them both!
Panterras made an effort to calm down. “I apologize. My daughter Kira is very ill, and I am deeply concerned about her. She had a fever earlier, and I am afraid that in her delusions brought on by that state, she has wandered out into the street, poor child.”
He wanted nothing more than to curse this vile woman into oblivion. He had no doubt that her involvement had gone beyond coincidentally picking a convenient lock. But that was too much of a risk. Who knew if she was working with others, others who would expect her back and would come looking for her? People couldn’t simply disappear. You couldn’t kill all of your problems away, much as more impetuous men might wish to believe that was the best solution.
Nor could he terminate the woman’s employment. She was a snake in the grass, but he had hired her for that purpose. He had never expected any loyalty to himself, he had simply counted on his ability to pay. And now that she knew, now that she might have seen, he would rather to continue to pay for her services than have her blackmail him.
“This must bring our conversation to an end. Good day.”
He would go look for Kira once the woman left, but he had little hope of success. It was easier to be lost than found in a city, and the girl had a head start. It was no great thing. He regretted the loss of his test subject, but he was already convinced there was no further potential in those experiments.
Kira wouldn’t survive on her own, and he couldn’t imagine anyone would be willing to take her in. What use was she to anyone but him? She had no magic… the only gift Panterras saw as deeply worthwhile… and she didn’t have any useful practical skills. She was too disabled to do so much as basic work. Even prostitution was beyond her; he doubted she even knew what sex was, let alone almost certainly not being physically capable of it. There was no reason for anyone to bother with her. Kira was adrift, alone in the world, and whether he found her or she died alone in some gutter, she was no danger to him. She couldn’t tell anyone what happened even in the unlikely event she found someone who would have cared to listen. Having Kira gone was really just one more burden lifted from his shoulders.
Panterras blanched for a moment, his skin turning even paler, then his whole face reddened. Now that she had brought up the subject, he turned and saw that the bedroom door was standing wide open. He had little doubt that Kira was already long gone. Damn them both!
Panterras made an effort to calm down. “I apologize. My daughter Kira is very ill, and I am deeply concerned about her. She had a fever earlier, and I am afraid that in her delusions brought on by that state, she has wandered out into the street, poor child.”
He wanted nothing more than to curse this vile woman into oblivion. He had no doubt that her involvement had gone beyond coincidentally picking a convenient lock. But that was too much of a risk. Who knew if she was working with others, others who would expect her back and would come looking for her? People couldn’t simply disappear. You couldn’t kill all of your problems away, much as more impetuous men might wish to believe that was the best solution.
Nor could he terminate the woman’s employment. She was a snake in the grass, but he had hired her for that purpose. He had never expected any loyalty to himself, he had simply counted on his ability to pay. And now that she knew, now that she might have seen, he would rather to continue to pay for her services than have her blackmail him.
“This must bring our conversation to an end. Good day.”
He would go look for Kira once the woman left, but he had little hope of success. It was easier to be lost than found in a city, and the girl had a head start. It was no great thing. He regretted the loss of his test subject, but he was already convinced there was no further potential in those experiments.
Kira wouldn’t survive on her own, and he couldn’t imagine anyone would be willing to take her in. What use was she to anyone but him? She had no magic… the only gift Panterras saw as deeply worthwhile… and she didn’t have any useful practical skills. She was too disabled to do so much as basic work. Even prostitution was beyond her; he doubted she even knew what sex was, let alone almost certainly not being physically capable of it. There was no reason for anyone to bother with her. Kira was adrift, alone in the world, and whether he found her or she died alone in some gutter, she was no danger to him. She couldn’t tell anyone what happened even in the unlikely event she found someone who would have cared to listen. Having Kira gone was really just one more burden lifted from his shoulders.
Daughter? Quinn generally knew a lie when she heard one. They were, after all, her speciality. But just the thought - coupled with what she imagined the girl had been used for - heightened the disgust factor and she suddenly wanted to leave as soon as possible. Calm down, she told herself. You just bought yourself a little job security, that's all. She settled for fixing Panterras with a meaningful look as she picked up her old black coat and left, with a swish of a scarlet scarf, for the street.
She glanced around as soon as she arrived outside, looking for the girl, but didn't and didn't expect to see her. In this she made the normally reasonable assumption that, when not escaping from creepy old men, the girl walked and talked normally.
Instead, X the spy set off over the rooftops - because that was how black-clad spies travelled - for the Ale Star, dropping down in front of the door and entering. About ten minutes later, somebody completely different slipped out of a back door and made her way towards the refugee camp.
She glanced around as soon as she arrived outside, looking for the girl, but didn't and didn't expect to see her. In this she made the normally reasonable assumption that, when not escaping from creepy old men, the girl walked and talked normally.
Instead, X the spy set off over the rooftops - because that was how black-clad spies travelled - for the Ale Star, dropping down in front of the door and entering. About ten minutes later, somebody completely different slipped out of a back door and made her way towards the refugee camp.