Bloodlines: Control IC

[Fishy]

Krane curls her lip with a sneer that shows off her back teeth, a low growl in the back of her throat. Yeah, that's not happening.

[Whiplord]

"Don't curl your lip like that. It's unbecoming in ladies and dogs. Doubly so in lady dogs. You know I'm right. Please? For all of us?"

[Jansviper]

None of the brothers look even slightly intimidated by you, though they do look amused you would even try. The one who had been speaking to you is inside your guard in a heartbeat, and slaps you heartily on the back with one massive meaty palm and laughs with good nature.

Hah! Now that's the kind of spirit we're looking for! Nah mate, we don't expect you to play. ****, Blood Bowl players get scouted from across the plane and are paid more than your average nobility. Game's brutal, there's no way we'd throw some ging into the middle of that even if we could.

The Firm is, well, lesse. We're the professional cheerin' section you could say, cept without the skirts and frilly pom-poms. We show up at every game, drink, cheer, boo, drink, heckle the other team, heckle the other spectators, generally have a blast and all that.

One of the other brothers, one with an interesting star shaped scar on his cheek (that your mind informs you is probably from a barbed arrow of some sort), speaks up. He's pretty quiet compared to his brother, but you don't have to strain to hear him.

All the teams have Firms, though we're not part of the league or anything. Our team's the Tragedy, Crinsom Edge are the visitors. ****ty team, firm's ****ing vicious.

The first nods.

See, way things are, your team wins? You go out and celebrate, booze, women, violence, whatever. Team loses and you go out and drown your sorrows in booze, women, violence, whatever. Thing is, sometimes the Firms meet up in the city proper, and then its time to kick some heads in. Win, lose, whatever, there's more bad blood between the Firms than there will ever be on the field of play itself.

Fact of the matter is that Tradegy's the best team in the league, been on the top for almost three years now. Up until last month they had a ****ty ****ing Firm. This month, Bowl's here, in Zaratel. Tradegy's got nothing to worry about against little ****s like Crimson Edge, anyone wearing Tradegy colors on the other hand...

One of the other two speaks up, and on closer inspection you can see that they are twins. Odd that you didn't notice it before, but all four brothers look so much alike the sameness just kind of blends together.

Edge's Firm takes **** too far. They'll start riots in the streets, beat bystanders bloody, couple months back some kid got stabbed just for wearing the colors of a team the Edge lost to. Sick ****ers.

He spits, and his brother takes over.

So we're gettin' proactive tonight. Watch'll be out in force around the stadium, Military will be prowling the borders, but they can't do **** unless those bastards do something first. Course, if an interested citizen were to take matters up...

The brothers at the table grin at each other and caress their weapons. The first one turns to you and looks serious.

All our mates in the Military'll have our backs, and the Watch'll turn a blind eye, so we won't be seeing any trouble from the law. Its open season on **** heads tonight and we need all the help we can get. You in?

Spoiler

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Throw me a sense motive over in the ooc Brannon.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Madame Miriam's voice floats out from the back as Krane and Ssurrii make to head out.

If you shed on any of the merchandise you'll be cleaning all of it! Have fun dearies, and make sure you're back in an hour or so.

[OverWilliam]

Spotting this "Brother Richard," he nods. "I think I will. Thanks," He says to the odd duo, and ever more interested in this game... And in its inspiration. He made his way around the ring, again in no hurry, until he'd come to Brother Richard. "Excuse me, Father Richard? I was told to speak to you, if perhaps you would sponsor me into the game."

[The_JJ]

Yasmine laughs at her sisters' antics as she slips into her dressing room. Play nice girls.

[Fishy]

Krane chooses to interpret that as permission, and ignores further discussion of leashes. She waits haughtily by the door for the next person with opposable thumbs to open it, then joins her brother outside, looking tough.

[WhiteKnight777]

Zol

Zol likewise avoids disturbing the sleeping girls, ignoring them as no threat to him - at least, no apparent threat. He changes quickly, then returns to the front of the store, feeling much better in black than he did before, the soft brush of the cloth against his skin needing only a hot bath to complete the feeling of refreshment - and, he thought as he felt his stomach growl, perhaps something to eat...

[The_JJ]

Yasmine pauses before the little girls... I got time. And it's never to early to start cultivating loyal followers and... where the hell did that thought come from? Stupid question, don't answer that.

Despite her budding plans for world domination, Yasmine has no real solid plans for the girls, or indeed anything. Just general intentions, and then she has to play the hand the gods deal her. It's like tap danceing on quicksand, and she doesn't like it. But for now all she can do is... what she can do. Try everything you can, do everything you can, and hopw you come out on top.

The woman with the blue on blue eyes sits down on a sofa, and starts playing her flute.

[Jansviper]

Brothers Richard and Samuel are a great deal more normal looking than Brother Michael and his companion. Where the other pair had been corpulent and wisp thin respectively, these two are fairly average looking. Michael has brown hair and green eyes, with a fair face and pale skin. Samuel is an older, dusky skinned sporting black hair with grey wings at the temple. His eyes are blue, and they look at you curiously.

"Just Brother my good sir, I'm not a father yet."

Brother Richards laughs merrily at what sounds like an inside joke, giving you the once over and stroking his clean shaven chin.

"Hmmm, I suppose you'll do well enough. I'll happily front your entry in return for the priviledge to practice my art on you if you take injury, you certainly look sturdy enough. What's your name stranger? I'll go enter you in the books now."

While he looks at you expectantly, Brother Samuel speaks up. His voice is sylabant and smooth, cloying with a hint of... something.

"Brother Richards fails to mention that his art is pain. The Air Clerics use the reversal of injury to map out the ways we think and respond to stimulus. Accepting is no minor manner, as while you will bare no physical injury after losing, memory can be as sharp as glass and just as fragile..."

He trails off at Brother Richard's sour glare.

"Scare him off why don't you? We provide just as much service as your lot does, that our methods differ is merely an academic matter."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Madame Miriam comes out of the back with a spellbook and a small felt bag. She passes the book to Zol and doles out everyone a few coppers from the bag.

"Grab yourselves something to eat and explore a bit dearies, the locals ought to be a bit more hospitable now. I'll expect you back to the store around seven to start your shift. We'll dispense with the formalities then."

She nods in a satisfied manner and shoos the three of you out, bumping the door open for Krane to exit.

Spoiler

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You all should notice Brannon speaking to the brothers almost the moment you walk out the door. Luk may take a bit more looking for.

[OverWilliam]

"Um... Luk..." He said oddly, hearing the name from his own lips, but not understanding it as his own. The name was not even familiar to him, and that realization felt wrong somehow... but there it was, and it would do for now. Upon Brother Samuel's elaboration, he thought for a moment, and then nodded. "I'll accept anyway. Thank you for giving me the choice to make for my own," He said pleasantly, but indirectly in jab at Brother Richard for trying not to.

[Diarmuid]

Brannon

The hackles on Brannon's neck raise as he begins to understand what it is the brothers are suggesting.

"Well, that certainly sounds complicated. Unfortunately, I have a previous responsibility to my companions. But, if you do have friends in the Watch and in the Military, perhaps there is something you might be able to help me with."

Looking around to make sure no one else is looking, Brannon steps closer to the brothers in a non-threatening manner. Reaching under his shirt to the rolled up sign, he hands it to the most vocal speaker and waits for him to unroll it.

[Jansviper]

If Brother Richards notices your tone of voice, he doesn't show it. Instead the brown haired man claps his hands and smiles widely.

"Excellent! Excellent indeed friend Luk, I am sure we will make great progress today! As soon as these two fine gentlemen finish, we shall get you up to the table. The crowd does so love to see a newcomer get blooded.

Spoiler

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Do you have AIM or something similar Over?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The brothers still sitting exchange glances and frown, but the one who had been speaking to you just grins and nods.

Aye, I can understand that. Duty to the Family and such. Maybe some other time when you're not in trouble with the law hm?

With a wry smile and a wink he grabs the poster, unrolling it and clearly expecting to see something.

From the rapid blinking and the stunned expression, what is on the paper wasn't it.

Holy ****, you're nobility? Why didn't you say so man? We'll happily escort you down to the station, it would be our honor. Why are you dressed like that? People must've been treating you like trash!

The other three exchange worried glances and stand, moving to their brother and peering at the paper.

[Fishy]

As the coppers are being handed out, Krane shifts to a form with hands and pockets to make sure she collects. And so it happens that her face exactly matches the one on the poster, right as she walks into Brannon and his gaggle of admirers.

"Holy ****. We're nobility?"

[Whiplord]

Ssurii smoothly walks into the group. "Now now, there's no need to get in a tizzy I'm sure." At that she gives meaningful glances to any siblings present, and a small glare towards Brannon. This was the second time he had done this. Although perhaps this time didn't need to end so poorly as the last.

She swiftly considered her options. She could lie, pass it off as a joke. No, it was likely too late for that. Then, defuse the situation, or.... that. Better to try the simpler option first.

Her tail swishes demurely, and she puts on her best smile. "Why, thank you so much for your concern. There's really no need at all to trouble yourselves. In reality we're performing a bit of an experiment. Trying to find out the truth of the city, I guess you could say." She gives a quick wink. "It has been most educational so far. We'd much appreciate if you didn't say anything more about that poster. It would put such a kink in our lovely plans. I am so dearly looking forward to working here."

[The_JJ]

Spoiler

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*ahem* Forums working again... just in case anybody cares...

[Jansviper]

The four large men look... unsure of themselves. They exchange glances, then the first two focus on the twins. The twins glance at them, before looking at each other. A moment later they look at you again and the large man who had been doing most of the speaking continues doing so.

Ah, well, we didn't mean to imply anything untowards would be happening in the fair city tonight you see. Just a bit of sports rivalry and the like. So what can we help you all with?

He raises an eyebrow questioningly at Brannon, paying more attention to him than the girls who had just arrived.

Spoiler

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Yes, this is short, but it'll get things moving.

I need, before we can go much further, a post from Zol to know what he's doing. The little hellions upstairs are on pause until I know where/what the Madame is doing, and outside will have to pause on that if the brothers end up going back inside.

Over, you have your marching orders. If you have questions on that subject send them to me and I'll fill you in on whatever details you need.

[OverWilliam]

He shrugged to himself, then settled in to watch the rest of this fight. Finally it all started making sense, based on what the priests had told him and finally having watched enough to see what they were talking about. The two men, staring at each other and the dagger between them, were in practice a very high-stakes blinking game. Looking closely, he imagined two lines on the table past which neither person's hand could cross... Unless it was part of an attack. At any time one man could try to grab the dagger and slash at the other, but if he attacked without Provocation and missed his target he would lose the match and his 10 gold entry. This danger of potentially being gashed by the wicked looking dagger put both men on edge against each other; there was a lot of pressure put on the two, and the audience only made it worse with their jeering and taunting. For the first man to break eye contact with the other or flinch, move, blink, for any reason at all, would Provoke the other to snatch up the knife and attack, trying to catch the other off guard and draw and amount of blood, no matter how much, to declare him the winner (but the crowd always preferred grisly wounds over clean ones). Experienced players could sit there for hours, intentionally dropping cues and seeing through subtle traps, neither one grabbing the dagger because they knew the other would have too much time to react, eventually becoming a complex guessing game of fake-outs and bluffs, dares and undertones, highs and lows, and yet the whole thing remaining wordless and motionless from the start to the end.

When it came his turn, the crowd made its wildly varying opinion known; there was much excitement about fresh blood, someone new either brave enough or stupid enough to try their hand. For every slap on the back he was made the target of various improvised missiles, and for every cheer there was an (often profanity laced) jeer. It was quite exciting; he was already getting a sense of the pressure he ducked a particularly sloppy projectile and then took his seat. Already sitting there was the victor of the last match. He sized up the man carefully, looking him over before the match officially started. He has the advantage of being more experienced than me... But two matches in a row, adrenaline has had plenty of time to take full effect. A priest stood to the side of the table, then stepped back and simply said aloud, "Begin." He laid his hands palms up on the corners of the table, staring his opponent dead in the eyes. The other man was bigger than he was, but as a result of this game, likely just as fast. His stare was level and even, watchful but eager; the other man's was calm despite his pounding heart, obviously not the first time he had played this game, and not about to lose to a newcomer (and a Ging at that!). The crowd didn't respect either one's concentration, yelling and whistling in fervor.

Though it felt like a lot longer, it was only a few seconds before He decided to try something out. Still without breaking eye-contact with the man, he intentionally let his left hand--the one on the side of the dagger's point, not its handle--twitch ever so slightly. He knew his opponent caught the movement, but so slight had the twitch been and so far on the man's peripheral vision that there was a split second of hesitation whether he had imagined it. Subconsciously his dagger hand moved just enough as he made up his mind in a fraction of a second that he had moved, but by then there was already a hand on the dagger, and it jumped forward toward the man's left shoulder. The other man saw the attack coming and dove backwards off of his stool in an attempted dodge...!

The audience cheered as a slash of blood erupted starting a few inches below the dodger's left collar bone and extending all the way across his left arm. His face hardened in the resistance of pain, and he stood, nodded surlily at the winner of the match, and walked over to be healed.

He looked down at the dagger in his hand, a very pretty thing, sharper than it looked, and looking very sharp indeed. It was a black-stained, double-sided blade, the keen edges on both sides waving back and forth from the crossguard to the tip, the hilt fashioned out of silver or iron, and etched with black trim along the metal grip. He wiped the blood running down the tip off and admired the gleam in the light. He wanted to keep it.

[WhiteKnight777]

Zol

Zol lurked in the background, his lips twitching and his fingers eager to go for the dagger. He had emerged from the building, following Ssurii for lack of anything better to do at the moment, and every instinct in him was telling him to go for the throat. The song of blood. The pulse of it through veins - he could feel it, and he longed to make it still. Just a few little cuts, a few quick slashes... and the red would spill through the air. Drip down onto the cobblestones. A study in carmine, a work of art, the knife his brush. He ran his tongue over his teeth, the thought of it stirring a rumble of hunger in his belly.

No - no, too many people. Too many witnesses. He simply stared at them as Ssurii attempted to calm the situation, struggling to calm his own beast within.

[Fishy]

Krane gives the brothers a predatory smile. They seem like good people, for a certain value of 'good', but its very, very obvious that they know more than they're telling. Which is, in a word, unacceptable.

"This is the big city, boys, 'untoward' things happen all the time. We weren't born yesterday."

Probably.

"But the Madame wants us to help you to prevent those things from happening around here. Which would be easier if you could fill us in."

[Jansviper]

The brothers exchange glances again, and just like the first time the twins hold each other's gaze for some time as the one who had been talking returns his attention to you. The fourth just looks... bored with the whole situation. Finally, the twins break eye contact and the talker speaks up, again addressing Brannon.

"Well... its like this. The streets are going to be right ****ing rough tonight. The others have been passing word round to the townies to stay indoors while we handle this trouble all nice and sportsman-like. We thought you might want to join us but..."

He pauses, eyes roving over the poster.

"If this is true, you'll probably want to stay inside. Bunch of gings get hurt and nobody cries, a noble takes a knife in a back alley and **** rains down all bloody like. The cops start arresting everybody in sight, the military gets involved, and depending on who the nob was sometimes people from the Main Office start getting all respectful like."

Main Office is a term your brain provides a little information on, a nickname for the Securities Division of the Synfuels Corporation that rules this city. The brother's tone makes this seem like a Bad Thing, complete with mental capitals.

"Why don't you all go see the sights while we talk to mum? She's on the Merchant's Council, and we can have this all sorted out by morning."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Well done my boy well done!"

The crowd cheers at Luk's handy win as Brother Richards approaches. His voice seems a bit strained (disappointed maybe?), despite words of congratulations. Brother Samuel, on the other hand, may as well be the proverbial canary fed feline.

"Here is your gold, five for the good show no less! You are welcome to try your luck once again for a single gold, and may continue in that vein as long as you feel your luck can stand!"

Brother Samuel buts in, smiling nastily as he plucks the dagger out of your hands and place it back on the table. Oddly enough, no blood remains on the blade.

"Or, you can pay him the five gold and get out of the obligation for healing from the Air Clerics next time you are injured."

To which Brother Samuel purples and glares at his fellow cleric, but nods, reluctantly.

"Or that."

Spoiler

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If you'd like to continue shoot me a PM and make those same rolls in the roll thread. Anyone else in the party, and now outside, is free to notice the cheering and head over to participate in the event.

[OverWilliam]

He nodded at the congratulations, and listened carefully to his further options. "Yes, about this obligation, that I'm sure you likely agreed to somewhere along this process... Could you explain it to me, again?" He said, putting stress on the last word and only barely stopping short of saying out loud that there had been no first time. His gaze was level, but a bit dark as the dagger was removed from his grasp (with no outward struggle), and his dagger hand flexed longingly as soon as it was missing. "Tell me, Brother Samuel," He said, turning to the more reasonable of the two, and barely dismissing the other at all. "If I were to repay the five gold now, in what way would that better my standing than before I... agreed to your sponsorship?" Again, the concept of consent to the cleric's demands is broodingly reemphasized. "Would I be correct in assuming that you were returned your 10 gold entry when I won, and then would be taking all of my winnings, in return for... nothing?"

[Fishy]

Krane eyes the brothers and considers their proposition. She didn't enjoy the prospect of people talking about her while she wasn't there, not one bit. But, she can tell they're insistent, and she decides not to press it. For right now.

"Thanks, don't mind if I do. Girls?"

She makes her way through the mall, keeping an eye out for a place to spend some coppers on terrible food. Preferably meat-on-a-stick. She could go for tearing something apart with her teeth right now.