Movers and Shakers

[Priscilla Malatrast]

Priscilla sat primly in the shade as a flurry of workmen and servants rushed to and fro with her belongings. She sat as she had been taught, with her back perfectly straight, parallel to the back of her chair but not touching it. What she had not been taught was to rap her cane impatiently on the stone floor, to scowl, and to swear at workmen who weren't taking proper care if her things.

A maid wandered past and Prisclla hooked her leg with the crook of her cane. The maid stumbled and turned to her with a curt smile that almost concealed the neatly repressed annoyance in her face.

"Yes, madam?" she asked.

"Bring me my deck of cards."

She returned within minutes with the deck. It was something Priscilla had taken up recently, having found a book on the subject at a private auction. The book sat beside her ornate, high-backed chair for easy reference.

Priscilla shuffled the cards absent-mindedly and dealt herself a set of three. The result was curious--a combination she hadn't seen before with the iteration of the same card twice coupled with a completely unrelated third. After searching in the index, she found what it meant.

"Unexpected change," she read out loud. She thought of being forced from the city due to increasing scrutiny from the magistrates resulting from her unfortunate run-in with an erratic battlemage.

"Fah!" she exclaimed. "Tell me something I don't know."

The entire process of learning to use the cards had been arduous and unsuccessful. Since she acquiring the book and the deck, she'd gotten nothing but junk groupings. When something seemed to be accurate, it also seemed to be nothing more than coincidence.

In a mixture of half-boredom, half-frustration she tossed the cards to the ground in front of them. She reveled in the explosion of color as they scattered all over, but mostly she delighted in the idea that someone would be around to pick them up shortly.

She licked her lips as they settled, but then made a motion to stand. She sat back down after rising halfway--her back had been sore since she awoke, and it sounded another protest at her attempt to get up. But what she saw before her was very intriguing, and she wanted a closer look.

"Pick those up without mixing up the order," she said to the maid. The girl bent down and began to scoop them up but Priscilla rapped her shoulder with her cane and reprimanded her.

"If you see a group, keep them as I would see them, left to right, if I were to shuffle forward. And keep each of the groups from my left to right arranged in the same manner."

After careful thought, the girl complied. Soon she was finished, and she handed the cards to Priscilla, who snatched them eagerly. A few minutes of shuffling revealed exactly what she had thought. The same grouping occurred three times. It was one of the first she had learned--the messenger.

Without a second thought, she yelled for her porter. He came promptly.

"Yes, madam?" he asked.

"If anyone comes by the estate within the next hour, take him to me immediately. After that hour is up, resume my previous instructions of turning away all guests with the excuse that I am ailing."

"Yes, madam," he replied.

"Go," she said, shooing him away with one hand.

Looking up to survey the confusing scene again, she noticed the maid still standing there.

"Well?" she asked. It was a pointed question, with an extremely sharp tone to match.

"You haven't dismissed me yet, madam," the maid replied coolly.

"Get out of here," Priscilla said coldly. "Before I don't ask you to come back."

[Shadowsong]

With his recently acquired pet healed by the moonlight, Krevster saw no reason to delay his ambitions. He was not sure what he hoped to gain from the eccentric crone but she was worth seeking out nonetheless, at the very least he could gain ideas from her offer. With the starting point she could give him, he could haggle for whatever form of currency he desired.

Mostly he wanted power. Portable power. Ideally the kind of power thoroughly illegal in the local area, as this was very personal power. Of course, this was difficult to search for in the local area, due to those inconvenient laws which Krevster spent months enforcing.

Approaching the estate gateway, he marched towards the nearest living creature he could find. This would be a servant. And boomed. The big deep booming voice was not a conscious decision, more a consequence of being Krevster.

"I have come to speak with Priscilla Malatrast." He made no explanation. Such massive personages seldom had to explain themselves.

The fellow turned out to be the porter, "Indeed sir. We have been expecting you." What Krevster had noticed is this man was hovering near the gate as though waiting for someone to come near. Perhaps they mistook him for someone else, though Krevster was happy to use this to his advantage.

Of course, no one tried to take Krevster's weapon. Which was good. Anyone who wanted to receive it would do so pointy-end first.

Following the way to the old lady herself, the armoured behemoth noticed the cane. Before approaching to greet her he had a question whispered towards Gia. "I want to know if that is real bone." A nod was sent towards the cane.

[Gia Rilan]

Gia took a slight whiff of in the general direction of the cane. She nodded to Krev slightly, and murmured back to him, "It smells like bone of a magical creature, and it reeks of summoning magic."

She was following him, as she was now apt to do. Her pack was on her back and her bow was left unstrung him her hand. She strapped it onto the side of the bag with a few straps of leather and left it there so it would be out of the way.

The wolf was sated for the time, the unexpected kill a welcome boon to the blood-hungry creature. She rested at the back of Gia's mind, head lying on paws tucked underneath her quiet form. Gia didn't know what was going to happen next, and this strange human house smelled like fear and resentment. It was not a pleasent combonation, and she tried to breathe lightly without letting Krev see her do so.

He'd made it seem like it was very important that they were here. This old woman who smelled of henna and soap looke strange for a human. She was old, for one thing. Gia hadn't seen a human that old in a long time, because usually members of that species were likely to die earlier on, from some disease or death by another hand. She waited as Krev addressed the woman, standing with a relaxed posture but still alert for any sign of trouble.

[Priscilla Malatrast]

Priscilla planted her cane on the ground squarely and rested both hands on it. With a sigh, she sank back into her chair. Though part of her noted--mainly with the intent of punishing her staff later--that the approaching pair still retained their weapons, she wasn't terribly concerned. The big guy's size was intimidating and the face of the girl following him had a remarkably shifty, feral look, but she could remember having more dangerous-looking types under her employ at one time or the other.

"Such clear signs," she said to herself, albeit loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I'd expected more auspicious guests than these.. rabble."

She turned then to look them over again, making sure she hadn't missed anything peculiar. Even after further inspection, they seemed like nothing more than run-of-the-mill baddies.. if there was such a thing. Whatever the cards had meant to alert her of, these two didn't seem to be it. The 'messenger' was supposed to be a sign of great change, and the pair seemed like nothing but a very minor departure from the norm. Of course, the suspicion she had ignored earlier--that the way the cards had fallen was a mere coincidence--began to sneak back into her head.

With a loud series of raps on the stone floor with her cane, she cleared her throat. Staring at the wall but addressing the strangers, Priscilla seemed to put forth little effort to mask her mild but increasing disinterest.

"Well? Spit it out! What is it?!"

It sounded more like a demand than a question.

[Shadowsong]

While the old crone clearly was not seeking a response, Krevster had decided she was going to get one. "Auspicious indeed. I would expect few to admit to seeking omens in this city." Taking a few long marching steps towards her, he spread his arms and bowed in greeting. "We have an offering for you. Items you are known to collect. Clearly those occult items are trophies to indicate your support of those who have defeated cults. Symbols of your loyalty to the city." A blatantly flimsy pretense, but an amusing one. It served to allow them the discussion without directly calling her a witch.

Reaching into the pack, he began to produce treasures. A golden statuette depicting a dragon with a serpentine body, two forelimbs and feathered wings. A sacrificial knife with a golden blade. Coin medallions bearing the images of demonic or reptilian gods. Most of them ritual implements, one which the schooled eye would know as being helpful in magical ceremonies. "The previous owner, in addition to the leader of a blood cult, was an ill-mannered boor, so I killed him and thought you may be interested in his trinkets." Mentioning Phaloth's demise was deliberate, not truly a threat, instead a gentle reminder that he was interested in pleasant and friendly dealings.

"You have talents and knowledge which may be helpful. Your cane tells me that much. That, and the fact I did not expect to be coming here myself until a few hours ago. Have your servants bring me one of the sturdier chairs, and one for my pack-mate, and we shall discuss this further." Calling Gia a packmate was simply out of not knowing what else to call her. Friend? Companion? Servant? Perhaps it revealed that she was a shifter, perhaps it suggested that he was to. The mystery would be to his advantage.

[Gia Rilan]

Gia shifted her weight, restless. She was never that happy inside buildings, especially in this place that stank of summoning magic which came from the old woman in waves. And they weren't only in a building, they were in the city. She tried to keep her fidgeting to a minimum with some success.

She played a bit with her little wooden charm, then memorized the pattern on the wall to her left. The wolf was getting uneasy, and took some offence at the mention of the priest that Krev had killed. Gia quieted the creature with some work, which passed a bit more time.

She didn't blame Krev for leading her to this boring place. She would never blame Krev, especially since he had given her the gift of the kill of Phaloth, but she was bored. The wolf rose in her eyes and looked to the door, but Gia wrenched the gaze of the lupine from the exit and pretended to pay attention.

The word 'packmate' caught her attention more than anythign else they were saying. Her head filled with all the things that he could mean by that. he could simply be calling her that for lack of anything else to say, or he could mean that they were like a small pack, or he could mean something else, one of many other things.

Gia liked the idea of a pack. She really liked it. All the werewolves, the family of the one who had bitten her, had kicked her out when she was turned, and she'd neevr known the true form of a pack. She knew how wolves felt, how they acted, but she'd never fully been a part of a pack. Krevster would make a strange packmate, but Gia was willing to accept that. She would accept it happily, and she waited now with a small smile on her face, wondering if Krev knew what affect a simple word could have on the young werewolf.

[Priscilla Malatrast]

Priscilla found the big man entirely uninteresting. Not only did he not take her bait, he seemed, in part, to have misunderstood it. She paid little attention to him as he went on being diplomatic. Diplomacy and caution were things she neither had the time nor the patience for. Having met men like him before, it was clear that nothing she could say would faze him. He'd come to do simple business.

The woman with him, however, seemed to be unsettled already. Or perhaps the correct word was agitated? Priscilla watched quietly as the pretty thing played with her trinkets and tried to occupy herself with the features of her surroundings. Her actions suggested something primitive. Of course, another, potentially more accurate word presented itself to her. Wasn't it interesting that her jewelry was made of wood instead of.. a certain metal many charms seemed to be made out of? Admittedly, Priscilla's exposure to the type was limited, but the young woman certainly seemed to fit the bill. Primitive, possibly.. but maybe just a touch 'feral?'

The glitter of the tall man's objects distracted her momentarily, but only momentarily. The man clearly intended to extract from her more than the trinkets were worth. A reptilian blood cult? She'd never heard of it.

What grabbed her attention was the way the man dared to address her. Telling her to have chairs brought to him. Presumptuous. Unacceptable. But such a strange word he used to describe his companion.. Priscilla watched carefully and noticed the strange way the young woman's interest had been piqued by it. She decided to test her theory and reestablish the pecking-order as she wished to have it.

Clearing her throat, she spoke with the kind of practiced, muted indignation that aristocrats often used to put the lower class back in their place.

"Clearly you're the one who has business with me," she said. "Why don't you start acting like it? What impudence to order me to do something for you before our transaction has even begun. If you want chairs..."

She paused for effect and threw heavy emphasis onto one particular word.

"Have your bitch get them for you. They're just in the next room."

Priscilla gestured, but she kept her focus on the young woman, watching for a response. She couldn't resist a quick peek over at the big man to see if she had offended him as well, though she expected little.

[Shadowsong]

Not again.

The search for those with unholy power was not so difficult, the search for those with unholy power and intelligence and the barest social graces was far more effort. Either he could begin the search elsewhere, or he could try to find a way to deal with this one.

Pausing carefully, he considered whether to answer her with a booming laugh, an attempt to dismiss her petty efforts to provoke him with humour and thoroughly undermine her ability to threaten him. Instead, he simply shook his head, refusing to grant her any power whatsoever. A shrewish old crone had no power but what they gave her.

Taking a long step forward, Krevster leaned on both the arms of Priscilla's chair. Were the chair to collapse beneath him, he would just laugh. "What I made was a polite suggestion. You were expecting me for a reason, so we know you have something to gain. My guess is longer life, youth. Had I come here to threaten you, I would begin with how much the battlemages would love to know of your cane." Were she to lash out, or strike, or scream in his face, he would simply kick the chair out from under her.

"You are a summoner. You can broker pacts, and we can carry them out. What we deal with may find you important enough to their bargains to extend your life, maybe even spare you the need to hobble. We share the pacts, the three of us, including my loyal and worthy pack-mate who you do not get to call a bitch."

[Gia Rilan]

Gia had to work extremely hard to keep the happy smile off her face. Krev had defended here! Again! She turned and looked hard at the wall again, smoothing the features of her face into a neutral mask.

It wasn't that she minded being called a bitch. Fenris knew that she referred to the wolf in that fashion at least once a day, usually more than that, but Krev had told that strange old woman that she was not allowed to call Gia a bitch. She wondered who else could call her a bitch, and decided not to think too hard on it. She would have gladly gotten chairs, no complaining, and had been about to go and get them anyway when Krev had said no.

Her master was wonderful. The wolf was still restless, but the girl was overjoyed. She was valued. It was a great feeling. She eventually cleared her face and returned her gaze to the old woman, using the wolf's calm yellow eyes to look at the crone without betraying emotion. The wolf was disgusted with the girl for her happiness, but she accepted it quietly.

[Priscilla Malatrast]

Priscilla dejectedly rested her head against one of her gnarled fists. Her heavy eyelids sagged, and she made only nominal effort to restrain a yawn. Whatever she was, the bitch was little more than a subservient cur. The way she hung upon every word of her superior sickened and bored Priscilla.

What Priscilla had really been hoping for was some entertainment. When she thought about it frankly, she was set for life, even if she would be leaving the city for a time. She didn't really need power or youth. There was nothing that stood in her way of living (and dying) contentedly.

It tested her patience to listen through the big man's prattle about pacts and bargains, and when he got to that last bit about 'loyal and worthy' she had to repress the urge to laugh.. or gag.

"If, sir, I was worried about that sort of threat, I suppose I wouldn't have held a battlemage hostage a few nights ago. Now get off my chair; it's worth more than you are."

She cleared her throat and made it clear that she wished to stand. "I'm not interested in something as vain youth. I do just fine. Perhaps if the offer came along in the course of my activities, I would take it, but right now I'm looking for a new and, more importantly, interesting way to put my considerable talent to use."

Priscilla paused and waited for her words to sink in. She focused her attention on summoning every bit of finality that she could muster into her voice. The game had grown old.

"If you don't have anything more intriguing than these obscure baubles, and if you can't muster up a more enticing offer than some vague details about a partnership, you may escort yourselves out of my compound."

[Shadowsong]

The old wench wished to stand. She wished him to move his hand. And she wished him to be vulnerable to her pathetic whining. Ultimately, she could not force any of that from him. So he stayed, hands on her chair, leaning forward, refusing to move for at least ten seconds.

Then he smiled a maniacal grin, removed his hands from her chair, and leaned back enough for her to stand. By his choice, not hers. A fact best demonstrated by his big, deep, booming laugh, which carried on for a long while.

Eventually, when he finished, the mirth still lingered in his eyes. Honestly, she was so determined to put him in his place that she gave him little or nothing to work with. She stated no particular interests, no goals, nothing beyond how far she was clearly superior and he was clearly insignificant.

"You seem to have the utmost confidence in that appearing to be nothing beyond a woman with little time or patience on her hands will draw me to fear you. I believe you overestimate the power of your significantly withered presence." Having said his piece, Krevster proceded to reach down to grab Priscilla by her wrinkly neck and shake her at his leasure.

[Gia Rilan]

Gia's eyes went wide as the situation suddenly changed. She wondered whether or not to step forward and try and help Krevster in... whatever he was doing, or just stay put and wait. She opted for the latter, glancing to the door and thinking that she may decide to deal with any guards who may try for the door.

She observed the two with a calculated eye. A bit of very un-wolf-like reasoning and rationing crept through the somewhat unorganized mind and was mulled over. Neither one was willing to admit that the other had a point. Krev had found some magical items on the bodies of the cult members, which he was offering somewhat politely (okay, not politely at all, but he was Krev, and Gia was starting to realize that he didn't have to be nice to get what he wanted) to this crazy old crone, and she was saying no.

So, to make everyone happy, especially Gia, Krev and the werewolf could just leave. This woman seemed to be a lost cause--so they could leave!

Of course, the girl was smarter than that. She knew by now that Krev got what he wanted, using whatever means needed to ensure his success. Obviously, judging from the scene in front of her... Gia turned her gaze back to the two humans. Crazy humans...

[Priscilla Malatrast]

Priscilla could hardly resist the urge to smash the man's ugly balls to a paste with her cane when he was just standing there, and she was outraged when he laughed at her, but she decided that such an un-ladylike display of unexpected force wasn't fitting for the situation.

She chuckled when he accused her of overestimating her power. She knew its limits, and dealing with the overgrown sewer rat that was so intent on intimidating her was well within them. It was clear what was about to happen--he was going to attack her.

Without flinching, Priscilla let his big hands wrap around her neck. She felt some constriction, and there was a moment of panic when she thought the enchantment had dissipated over the years. Soon, however, she felt its presence. Her neck stiffened, and she couldn't help but satisfy her curiosity by reaching up to touch it. It was as hard as steel.

"Insolent cretin!" she screamed. "Assail me in my own home?! I've lived here for over sixty years. Did you not think there would be protections put in place?!"

"I would advise that you leave!" She was on the verge of retaliating when she felt her voice growing stronger. It began to take on an echoing cadence. Evidently, He felt the need to interject. "Oh.. He's found somethi--

Black.

Priscilla's body made wild, jerking contortions. She let out an unnatural scream that started first in her own voice, cycled through the voices of younger and younger women, and finally terminated in the hair-raising scream of a little girl. A little girl with long dark hair and smooth ivory skin. Her beseeching blue eyes seemed like they could pierce through a man's soul and drive him mad, or at least grab him by the heart and lead him to his rightful punishment. She dangled, feet kicking, suspended by a wicked man's hands around her neck.

"Ple...ase..." she croaked. "Don't hu--"

She gasped for air. "Don't you.. re..."

She gasped again. "..Me.. Sarlinna."

[Shadowsong]

Retaliating would have done little good. What powers she had summoned ahead of time were exhaustable, and he knew she had little combat magic of her own. She was not the only one who had been speaking to him all this time... All he had to do was wear down her defences, and she would have little way to defend herself. Besides, what protections were in place in her own home would do little good were he to drag her out kicking and screaming.

When supernatural protection appeared on her neck, he changed the grip to a more claw-like hand, digging the fingers in as he started squeezing. She could be wearing a metal gorget on her throat and there would still be indentations left by his fingers. He wondered how the enchantment would fare against that. Pure curiosity.

Honestly, he was not that interested in intimidating her - that would leave the petty old shrew with the choice of accepting brutality. Right now what he wanted from her was to vent out some frustrations, and it would stop when he wished it to stop.

And... he wished it to stop...?

"Oh.. He's found somethi--

He? He?

Krevster smiled again, leaning in close to her face. "Priscilla, you just gave me exactly what I want." And leaned backwards and straight once more. A little sign he knew more than he had let on so far.

Then the bizarre twist of the senses began, and there was a vision from the past trembling in his grip. Krevster did look surprised, and then amused. Then laughed. "And now you display your great power. Begging for mercy in a new face." What she saw and what he felt were different. He was shocked, and seriously angered at her face being used against him. It made him want to crush the wrinkled old biddy who had nothing but her arrogance.

Finally, someone more reasonable.

Looking at an angle past Priscilla, past the apparition, Krevster focused on something else. A smile creased on his face, and he bowed his head. "I found you at last. No more of the whining of the withered shell, I speak with the master. I come to begin as the Demonsworn. Tell me what I must do."

[Gia Rilan]

Gia was seriously unnerved by the proceedings. First it had started as a nice little threatening argument thing, and now it was a full-out confusing fight. Gia tried usually to steer as clear of crazy old crones who could use magic, but this time... it hadn't seemed to work. Her eyes flicked back and forth from the door to the combatents. She was shocked that no guards had tried to come in yet, but she knew that she could deal with them if they did.

Unless, of course, they had some sort of protection spell on them as well. Usually she could bite through those, but she typically got a zap in her mouth for her pains, making her resentful of protection spell of most kinds. Swords and human weapons she could deal with and dodge easily enough, but people who used magic were very different.

She wrentched her eyes back to the fighting. Krev had obviously gotten the upper hand now, and was speaking to... something. Gia squinted, her eyes not the greatest of her senses. She tuned her ears and nose in on the spectre as well, listening to the slight hum and buzz of magic. She could smell it too, slightly acrid like it was burning the air, and somewhat sweet.

She couldn't really see the thing that Krevster was speaking to, but she kept some of her senses trained on what she could hear and smell of it. She looked at the woman, Priscilla, Krev had called her, whose face had changed to something of a younger woman. Gia shook her head slightly. Her recent masters had left her questioning humans more and more, and this was certainly no different.