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  1. - Top - End - #151
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    SamuraiGuy

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    5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    Late Morning
    Exentia Street, The White Goblet
    Mikado, Eiko


    "Interesting," the black-haired man noted, leaning back as a small frown worked its way onto his face. "You know, a waiter should have been here by now." The foreigner raised his hand, snapping his fingers loudly as he looked back over his shoulder, towards the bar. "Wine, and make it fast!"

    "And quite insightful." A thin smile spread on his lips as he turned his attention back to Eiko, steepling his fingers on the table as he continued. "By all accounts, your species is superior to humans -- the same potential to use tools, certainly no less intelligent or strong." A careful eye studied the crow-woman before him, then briefly turned back to his own weakened frame. "Stronger, even. Blessed with claws, natural weapons no human can call his own, and wings to fly. Obviously, in many ways, the tengu are our superiors. Certainly, there are always exceptional individuals amongst any species, but in general? Absolutely true."

    "Would you care to know the true trick behind humanities' ascent?" He grinned broadly, making ready for a rather banal truth. "We breed quickly. And often. Sure, many cultures seek to ... idealize and enforce monogamy, but true human nature is quite opposed to such a principle. Really, it's more a luxury we can allow ourselves, now that we already are so many and well-situated. People spread by multiplying their ranks."

    When finally a cup with wine was placed before him, he snapped out of his theorizing and chuckled. "Well, enough of that. I mentioned a chance -- as I heard, your people are currently rather unorganized. Disrespected. Seen as a nuisance, not as proud warriors, cunning protectors, or honorable tricksters, as they are in my home."

    The slant-eyed man leaned forward, lowering his voice a little. "I have come here, from the far lands of Ikoku, traveling a road most shirk for its length and dangers ... made a spindly scarecrow of myself in the process. Not to be a tiny cog in the wheels of the ages, but to forge a path of my own. To carry my name throughout the lands and unto history itself. It's a long and hard road before me, but one that will have its rewards. I would see the Tengu of Taelarys walk it with me, to gain the respect and name they, too, deserve."

    Mikado obviously spoke with conviction -- and a confidence that was easy to get drawn into, his eyes clear and shining with both intelligence and determination.


  2. - Top - End - #152
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    have_a_cow's Avatar

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    8th of Bargenholt
    The Arena (Diamond Club Terrace)
    1:45 p.m.


    Michael eyes the young girl addressing him and raises an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn't expected to see such a young girl serving drinks to the city's elite.

    She must be Jameson's bastard to be in such a prominent position thinks Michael.

    He droppa the polite facade he had been wearing for the benefit of the assembled nobles. ""I'll have something cold and strong. Dealing with these... people drains me so," Michael says with a sneer.

  3. - Top - End - #153
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    Nefarion Xid's Avatar

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    6th of Bargenholt, A bit before Noon
    Exentia Street
    Mikado, Anselme


    "What, precisely am I supposed to have learned? You are from Ikoku, or at least a neighboring country, or perhaps both your parents were. But, if you were a native here, you'd have a regional accent instead of that finely practiced neutral one. Of course, the most damning evidence is that you're malnourished and currently recovering from the early stages of scurvy, indicating a long sea voyage. Unless you're a wretchedly poor Taelaryian native with two Ikokuian parents, with a well practiced neutral accent who habitually gives his last ten marks to a complete stranger... oh, well I'd say you just got off a boat."

    Anselme hoisted himself on to the railing overlooking the river and sat there with his legs kicking freely.

    "Was I not supposed to figured that out? Or is there some reason you'd rather not be associated with the vessel most recently arrived from your homeland?"


    Without taking his eye from the woman in the red dress on the opposite side of the street, he absently adds, "... brittle nails, sunken eyes, pale skin, and I'd bet you have sore gums."
    Last edited by Nefarion Xid; 2011-09-14 at 05:16 PM.

  4. - Top - End - #154
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    6th of Bargenholt
    After Midnight
    Undercity
    Cyrus


    As the spies continued to search through the maze of access tunnels connecting Taelarys’ sewers to the vague regions beyond, Cyrus pulled up short, and with a gesture, his men followed suit. Dimming the glowing wand in his hand to its lowest setting, Cyrus strained his ears; he’d heard something just a moment before, but no further sound came as he waited in the dank gloom for several heartbeats. Despite the silence, the spy felt certain that he and his men were no longer alone, and he signaled his followers to make no sound as they advanced.

    With another gesture, two of the spies peeled off and headed down a side tunnel, moving obliquely toward the source of the disturbance. As their dark-clad forms receded down the hall, Cyrus and the remaining spy continued to move forward, eyes and ears straining against the eternal night of the Undercity.

    8th of Bargenholt
    2PM
    The Diamond Club
    Tarin & Co.


    As Tarin entered the Diamond Club, he cast an appraising glance around the room. There were many nobles present, and the room was resplendent with the colors and patterns of their outfits; they seemed almost to be celebrating the downfall of one they had formerly counted as their own. Behind him, the Inquisitor could hear Jameson greeting the Emperor’s son, and he managed to interrupt his observations in time to turn and bow politely as the royal scion passed.

    As the prince moved on, Tarin straightened, and taking a glass of rich red wine from an attendant, he moved forward, eager to get his first glimpse of the Arena’s layout through the massive windows of the Club. While the gray-haired Inquisitor took in the view, Marcos stood faithfully by his side, although Revin had disappeared into the crowd, likely in search of valuable information from drunken or incautious lips.

    Sipping his wine, Tarin smiled; today promised to be quite the spectacle indeed.
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  5. - Top - End - #155
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    Kasanip's Avatar

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    8th of Bargenholt
    The Arena (Diamond Club Terrace)
    1:45 p.m.
    Eris, serving Michael


    Eris made a curtsey. The sneer did not seem to be noticed as she politely spoke.
    "Of course sir. You must be hot in this weather."

    As Eris walked away quickly, she grimaced silently.

    Ah, another arrogant noble.

    The irony that she was also proud and arrogant at times was unnoticed. But behaving as a servant for the last few days had been humbling. Silently, Eris was bitterly thankful she had been born a sorcerer, even if her House had abandoned her and stripped that life away. Eternal Youth at her age without magic..would have been too frustrating.

    Jameson's preparations were very complete. The best food and drinks had been prepared, and Eris had been instructed yesterday on all of the things she had to do. With so many people, it was a little difficult to walk through the crowd, especially being short. But Eris was very used to this. She had many many years of experience. She avoided two Darran noblemen, with a smile on her face. Then there were some minor lords who stood nervously with their drinks. Eris thought that was something. Perhaps they are gambling? Maybe she could ask later. She apologized politely, and moved between them.

    Soon she was returning to Michael. She carried the drink on a silver tray expertly, even avoiding Kyranis m'Kybrae's Sorcerer. The colors of her clothes she notices, and feels her heart skip. But she smiles and apologizes to her, and continues.

    Ostrim is here. I recognize the colors. If an Ostrim Sorcerer is here...

    She had work first. Eris returned quickly and as gracefully as a servant can, and offered the drink in glass to Michael.

    "Here you are, sir. I admit it is a draining affair for everyone." She shrugged with mock-helplessness.

    It is dangerous to make jokes to a noble's to his face. If he is foolish as he is arrogant it will be fine. For a servant to speak freely to a noble however... I wonder how he will react? She thought, while smiling innocently.


    8th of Bargenholt
    The Arena (Diamond Club Terrace)
    2:00 p.m.
    Eris, White Witch and God-Prince


    The arrival of the Prince was not unexpected. Everyone knew he was coming. But it was still an experience to see him.

    It was said the Emperor was divine, and so his children had that blood as well. When the Prince's eyes crossed her, she felt a feeling she did not often have- fear.

    She remembered kneeling on frightened legs in front of the Emperor, after that incident 200 years ago. She remembered the terrible power of his gaze, and she had looked at the ground to avoid them. It was her judgement and punishment that day, and the Emperor showed his mercy and judgement. She had not been executed, she had been exiled.

    As frightened as she had been, it was relief. And then it was horrible pain and anguish.

    Eris shuddered out of the memory. The Prince was walking on with Jameson.
    She had prepared for so long. But now was not the time. Ostrim was first.

    But today, she was a servant, not the White Witch. Eris turned back to continue with her work, a fake smile on her face.
    Last edited by Kasanip; 2011-09-14 at 06:05 PM.
    Kasanip's Sketchbook 2 Thread
    It is difficult to speak English, please excuse mistakes kindly m(_ _)m

  6. - Top - End - #156
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    SamuraiGuy

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    6th of Bargenholt, A bit before Noon
    Exentia Street
    Mikado, Anselme


    The Ikoku native, with the brittle nails, the sunken eyes and somewhat sore gums, stared at Anselme for a brief moment. A very brief moment, as he couldn't contain himself for very long before he burst into laughter.

    "Hah! Yes, just so. Sharp as a whip -- was that the phrase?" He shook his head, highly amused. "And no, I'm not hiding it. Why would I? As you say, it's quite obvious to someone with half a brain. Truth be told, I just wanted to know how you'd react. But a promise is a promise."

    "After all, what I'm up to is no big secret." Mikado explained, as he leaned against the railing next to his new acquaintance. "I'm not exactly well-suited to life in Ikoku, as you may have noticed if you ever met any of my fellow countrymen. If I was, I'd be standing before you, stiff as a board, expecting some sort of life debt and trying my best not to laugh at your jokes with a grim expression, no matter how funny I thought they were."

    Mikado folded his hands behind the back of his head, leaning back just a little.

    "Third heir of my house -- amounts to basically nothing in Ikoku except a fancy, pampered life, assuming things hadn't derailed just a bit, as they did. I want a life of my own, something people will tell tales about and write down in their history books as more than a footnote."

    Absently scratching his ear, the former Dragon Emperor watched a couple of street vendors go about their business. "But since you're so observant, Anselme, may I return the favor? You've a keen eye and a silver tongue, true, but you also speak as an educated man. You pay attention to accents, which to me would suggest, perhaps, an actor? The clear pronunciation and sweeping, slightly dramatic gestures would support such a claim rather than maybe, say, an orator. With your attention to detail I'd figure 'spy', but if that was true you'd have to kill me, yes?" He chuckled. "I'd also wager that you don't have a permanent residence of your own in Taelarys, but that's more a feeling than anything else. I'd say you get around quite a bit."

    Mikado was only looking at his new friend in a somewhat casual manner, but to Anselme it should be fairly obvious that the Ikokuian watched his reaction with a keen interest.
    Last edited by VonDoom; 2011-09-14 at 06:25 AM.


  7. - Top - End - #157
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    Nefarion Xid's Avatar

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    6th of Bargenholt, A bit before Noon
    Exentia Street
    Mikado, Anselme


    Anselme sat with his arms crossed, watching until the woman in the red dress had rounded the corner before glancing towards Mikado and simply shrugging.

    "And for whom would I be spying? If I were a spy, one would think I should try harder to maintain a low profile."


    His eye drifted towards his gloved hand. Wiggling his fingers, he examined the state of his fine gloves to assure himself that they had gone undamaged by the water. Feeling self conscious, he tugged them more firmly into place before continuing to amuse himself with speculation. One wonders if he ever spoke to anyone, or if everyone was perpetually audience to an unceasing soliloquy.

    "You neglected to mention 'lawyer' in your list of professions. I'll take that as a compliment. Though, now days, that's closer to the truth. You did say 'silver tongue' and not forked, hm? Ha! Mmm... you might guess that I am a physician. My medical knowledge is superficial, cursory at best. A sailor would know the signs of scurvy. But, as a lot, they are not so eloquent. Then, an officer in the navy, perhaps? No, there's nothing about my bearing that would suggest I'm a military man. I suppose it is a good explanation for the eye patch. One presumes a noble would opt for a glass prosthesis, hm? Of course, one also presumes a man with an eye patch is missing his eye."

    For a moment, it looked as if he was going to pull something from the inner breast pocket of his jacket. He fished around in the pocket, (which seemed deeper than it ought be) rearranged the contents and then, apparently, decided better of it.

    "Oh, you're a good sport, Mikado. So, today, you win the prize! I will tell you as much that I have worked in the theatre... but that was another life, I'm afraid."

    There was no hiding the sadness. His gaze shot effortlessly into the distance, piercing the brick and mortar and staring clear into the past. If Anselme had been an actor, he'd been a damned good one.
    Last edited by Nefarion Xid; 2011-09-14 at 05:56 AM.

  8. - Top - End - #158
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    SamuraiGuy

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    6th of Bargenholt, A bit before Noon
    Exentia Street
    Mikado, Anselme


    A wry grin played on the foreigner's lips as he listened to Anselme's elaborations and theories about his person, taking them pretty much at face value. After all, as he knew all too well himself, the best deceivers rarely if ever let anything but the truth pass their lips. Rather, the more interesting part would be what such a person didn't say.

    "I notice you didn't actually deny the spy part. Been doing some occasional spying, then? It's a fine thing, really, takes a lot of skill. Some of them gain great prestige back in Ikoku -- well, the ones that act as counter-spies, mostly, but I always thought the best spies are those who actually do attract attention. The kind that gets them into high society and makes people's tongues loose. A bard, or ... an actor?" He grinned, not entirely sure if he was actually onto something or not. The guessing game was rather intriguing, though, and after the long and arduous journey some harmless fun to exercise his intellect. It was obvious he was enjoying their conversation a little too much for the black-haired man to be entirely serious about it.

    Mikado leaned back a little more, over the railing, perhaps further than might be wise. "Well. Speaking of high society, I just so happen to have been invited to an event of some sort in a place called the Arena. Apparently many of the attendants will be amongst the wealthy and nobility. There's a plus two to my invitation and I don't really know anyone I'd particularly care to bring along so far. Would the strange but funny man I dragged out of the river care to come along? You'd be popular, I'm sure."


  9. - Top - End - #159
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    Near Midnight
    Taelarys Dockside


    As mist rose from the bay of Taelarys and the clouds parted to reveal a full moon, a sleek black prow cut through the waves. On a private dock surrounded by purple lanterns, Ghedim stood in a dusky great coat, his coach barely visible in the gloom behind him. A puff of his pipe, and his golden eyes flared like stars, as he tracked the rippling reflection of the ship in the moonlight. The approaching ship slid up in a whisper, sails so darkly purple they were almost black falling as they were furled by silent sailors. A muffled command echoed through the night, and a weathered gangplank fell to the stone dock with a resounding thump. Straightening his posture, Ghedim extinguished his pipe and placed it in an inner pocket, all his attention fixed on the deck.

    Minutes passed, and dew began to bead across Ghedim's face. His breath was slow, measured, turning to even more mist as it met the frigid sea air. To a casual observer, he and the ship could have been simple figments, ghosts summoned by the fog. But then, a distinctive voice cut through the silence, commanding yet feminine, it's cold assuredness only barely managed to cover an inner heat. As soon as Ghedim heard that voice, the mist seemed to clear from around him, and a genuine smile spread across his face. Without further warning, a luminescent figure appeared at the top of the gangplank, a young woman clad head to heel in a grey travelling cloak. She descended with measured strides to take Ghedim's waiting hand and be led back to the carriage.

    Sitting inside as the carriage clattered through the streets, Ghedim and the woman stared at each other across a narrow gulf. She was unabashedly beautiful, delicate features highlighted by large eyes and heart shaped lips. Silence reigned for almost half an hour before both of them smiled simultaneously.

    "I feel like a princess, Ghedim - a handsome prince come to sweep me off my feet."

    "Really Azlian? I must say I'm flattered. You kept me waiting so long I thought I would be receiving one of your children rather than you."

    "Darling, if I wanted to kill you I'd at least have the courtesy to announce my intentions first."

    "Well, that consoles me greatly, but I must wonder what the purpose of your journey is? Are you here on...family business?"

    "No, nothing so grim as that. Father merely wanted me to come and see Taelarys on my own, to experience all the Imperial City has to offer."

    "He sent you to spy on me, didn't he?"

    Azilan's smile quirked higher, revealing her upper teeth as her tongue ran along them in a predatory motion.

    "Perhaps he did. You know how much Academy graduates love to gossip - he was bound to find out eventually. Better to think of this as his attempt to test my resolve in the face of recent events."

    "Bad news from home?"

    "My brother. He had the mad idea to eliminate your uncle Therynd in broad daylight, and when his first bolt failed...well, he died slowly. Sudel and Rastrim are moving against each other in force, and Mirzan is doing what they're best at and keeping to the periphery."

    "For your sake, I am sorry. Should I expect trouble?"

    "No. Even mother realizes your position here necessitates a certain aloofness from your house. When you return, I'd stay away from large windows, but until then you should worry more about how you'll entertain me in the coming days."

    "Well..."

    Ghedim's hand floated across the divide and slid up Azilan's thigh, until his palm rested comfortably in a distinctly intimate location.

    "For the nonce, I imagine we could catch up on old times. As for later, there is something of a fete being held two days from how, and I'm sure one of Rhetiz's most influential ladies would be more than welcome."

    Slowly, the carriage came to a stop, and Ghedim parted the curtains to reveal the high walls of the embassy towering above them. Taking Azilan's hand, he led her past the official meeting areas, up the grand stairs to his own apartments.

    8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    2:15 PM
    The Lord's Arena


    As the furor of the Imperial Prince's arrival finally died down, the crowd was treated to another exceptional sight. Stepping through the doors of the Diamond Terrace came a crier bedecked in the full regalia of Rhetiz. Surveying the crowd a moment with the distinct golden eyes of his people, the man cried out.

    "Presenting her ladyship Azlian vir Mennoch al Sudel, third of her name, heir of the bloodline of Mennoch and the provinces of Alquesh, third of the heirs of Sudel and her escort, lord Ghedim vir Tesh al Rastrim, fifth of his name, heir to the house of Tesh and the provinces of Hushud, second of the heirs of Rastrim."

    The crier stepped back, and Ghedim and Azlian stepped resplendent onto the terrace. Ghedim wore green scalesilk again, but this jacked was embroidered in delicate silver tracery. Beneath was a vest of such inky black it threatened to blot out the night save for its silver buttons, and silk trousers of the same hue as his jacket. His red-black hair was oiled to perfection, and a black cravat stuck through with a pin holding a luminescent emerald and shining black boots completed the ensemble. After a cursory glance though, all eyes passed Ghedim and fell on Azlian. Wearing an elaborate concoction of lace and white scalesilk, her gown was the norm for Rhetizian nobility, leaving far less to the imagination than Taelarys high society normally deemed appropriate. Her waist was cinched with a belt of platinum weave studded with pearls, and her black-red hair was caught up in an elaborate platinum and diamond netting that allowed it to fall in rivulets down to her shoulders. This was completed by a diaphanous shawl and a waterfall necklace of platinum, sapphires, and diamonds. Entering arm in arm, the two foreign nobles made their way purposefully towards the Imperial Scion and bowed.

    "We wish to express our deep gratitude at you invitation, your Highness."

    "Greetings from Rhetiz, Highness. I bring with me the well wishes of all out people for your family and empire."

    Darston val Taelar looked down on the Rhetizians from his high chair, a contemplative glint in his eye. While standing, the Imperial Scion stood close to seven feet tall, and even seated he dominated the room. His impassive face seemed cut from marble by a master artisan, and the hair that glinted as metallic gold and eyes of ruby gave clear indication of his divine bloodline. Reaching a hand that could easily crush bone up to stroke a spotless chin, he nodded imperceptibly.

    "Be welcome, friends from Rhetiz. Know that my family and I greatly value the continued friendship of your people."

    Ghedim and Azlian bowed again and withdrew, and any who looked to the high seat saw the peculiar sight of another four members of the Blood Guard materialize. The Rhetizians gave it little thought, however, with Azlian diving into the social pool and Ghedim proceeding to the bar. On the way though, he stopped in the middle of the crowd and announced to no-one in particular.

    "What in the name of the gods is that incessant humming?"

    Plot Ticket
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    A Rhetizian noble, Azlian al Sudel, is visiting the city, supposedly to spread good will. However, certain segments of the city are on edge, as any ship from Rhetiz is as like to hold daggers as it is to hold riches.
    Last edited by TheDarkDM; 2011-09-14 at 08:45 AM.

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  10. - Top - End - #160
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    8th of Bargenholt
    The Arena (Diamond Club Terrace)
    1:45 p.m.


    Michael was only paying half attention to the servant girl who handed him his drink, because of this the veiled insult went unnoticed.

    This servant is small and less noticeable than most of the other ones. She'd be a useful spy to have. I think I can use to her a better end than that fool Jameson. A cold smile formed on Michael's lips as the thought flashed through his mind.

    "Thank you very much my dear child," replied Michael when he received the glass. Then, he started to work his Suggestion, "I would appreciate it if you would use your cute little ears and listen in on the conversations of the scary nobles here. Someone of your age has much better things to do than watch this horribly nasty fight. And once the fight is over and your job is done, I would certainly appreciate it if you would come and tell me all of the important information you overheard the nasty old nobles discussing. Now be a dear and help the other people. It wouldn't be nice to keep the poor souls waiting."

    Michael almost felt sick as the sweet words left his mouth, but he believed that it would be worthwhile.

  11. - Top - End - #161
    Troll in the Playground
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    5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    Late Morning
    Exentia Street, The White Goblet
    Eiko


    That was indeed part of human's nature, and paradoxically, not an unique characteristic. Rats, rabbits, pigeons, all vermin. Were humans oversized vermin? Let's not go too far. For starters, they're much cleaner in comparison than rodents, and it's undeniably a plus when you're forced to live among them.
    “Funny Man” Mikado was very insightful, and the Tengu would enjoy more discussions with him, without resorting to violence to make her time worthwhile, if philosophy didn't depress her.

    Red wine was brought to the table. She didn't wait for the foreigner, and swallowed a glass quite quickly. “There's many of us here. Am not saying you should consider seeking someone else, 'cause I can do your job, 'specially if it involves protecting your person. It just all sounds too good to be true. Not that you'd tell me if there was anything fishy, of course”, she commented, half to her employer, half to herself, “and I'm in for the name and respect. And money, of course. Always helps.”
    Eiko didn't even want to consider what could go possibly go wrong. Perhaps, the day before, at this time, somehow, she got lucky as well.
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  12. - Top - End - #162
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    SamuraiGuy

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    5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    Late Morning
    Exentia Street, The White Goblet
    Mikado, Eiko


    Mikado accepted his glass, taking a slow slip as he looked up at Eiko. "Fishy?" The Ikokuian repeated once the server had gone on his way, looking rather amused. "Nothing of the sort. One man's crime is another's heroic deed. Well, a thing you may consider a downside right now is ... you'll have to get sober. Clean your act up. It's not easy work and a trembling hand and addled mind won't to for it, but it has its rewards." The human inclined his head slightly, studying the crow-woman's expression in good humor. "I'll help you, of course -- the right clothes and good work can do wonders for your disposition."

    Tracing his index finger along the edge of his glass, the black-haired man continued to speak. "I trusted you with something yesterday, and you took care of it for me. That's something I reward quite well. I'll keep you as a personal retainer for now -- with training, and a little work we'll see if we can't make a leader out of you. Someone will have to unite your people, after all. And if it turns out you aren't fit for such a role, I'll find something else for you. I'm a flexible sort." He shrugged rather nonchalantly, then raised his cup and took another sip before placing the glass back on the table.

    Reaching beneath the table, the former Dragon Emperor pulled out a small leather bag from one of his pockets. "Here, take this," Mikado noted as he pushed the pouch forwards on the table until it rested right in front of the Tengu. "An advance. Plus a little extra for any expenses you may need to cover on my orders -- I expect you to save it and use it for that purpose, I should note. I'm generous, but I don't waste money, either. Still, it's yours to keep. I find a little trust goes a long way and rest assured, any of my employees have far more to gain if they prove true, than otherwise."

    "You'll also find a note with an address in the pouch. It's a tailor's. I ordered clothes made for you yesterday, they just need to take your exact measurements to finish it -- in three days time you and I will be attending a formal event."

    Did he just say he had already ordered a set of formal clothing for Eiko in advance? Why yes, yes he did. Apparently he hadn't really considered that the Tengu might say no to his offer.


  13. - Top - End - #163
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    6th of Bargenholt, A bit before Noon
    Exentia Street
    Mikado, Anselme


    "A plus two? Did it suddenly become fashionable in the city to arrive with two dates? Either Milverton is attempting to start a new trend or he greatly overestimates the allure of his guests."

    The omission of the prefix to Jameson's housename seemed to be purposeful. Either he thought poorly of the financier or perhaps just nobility in general. If it was the latter, that could explain the conspicuous lack of a surname for himself.

    Anselme stalled for a moment, apparently checking his itinerary in his head. In fact, he was merely weighing the odds that Mikado was coming on to him and how comfortable he was with that prospect when free food and entertainment was on the line.

    At last, he nodded and affirmed, "The event is on the night of the 8th, correct? Of course, how many well billed executions can there be in one week? Very well... it is a generous offer. How shall we arrive?"

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    8th of Bargenholt, The Lord's Arena (Diamond Terrace) 2:10-2:15 p.m.
    Claye and Others

    Claye continues to look around, nodding as Xavier talks. "It'll work." When Ghedim is announced, she grins. I wonder if he'll test *every* drink they give him here?

    After a while she frowns and leans closer to the other mechanic. "Some of the nobles here look pretty nervous. You'd think they're the one's bein' executed."
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    8th of Bargenholt
    The Arena (Diamond Club Terrace)
    2:15 p.m.


    Everything has edges, everything has a place, physical or metaphysical where it stops and something else starts.

    At roughly 2:15 pm the city of Taelarys reaches a metaphysical edge as excitement over the execution ends and a new emotion appears. The air changes, the sound changes, people's thought shift and those with an artistic flair might even try to tell you that the colors changed, darkening.

    Like the nervous gasp of a man who has just realized "yes, this is really happening" the noise of the crowd, reaching almost the very edge of the city, changes. Happy laughter shifts towards nervous laughter. Excited yelling shifts towards demands for blood.

    Even those outside the arena feel it as all about town people find themselves absentmindedly glancing towards the Arena.

    Something is about to happen. Something big. Something horrible. Something amazing.

    In the noble's section, Jameson sits next to Darston attempting to make small talk when this shift occurs. It is barely perceptible on a conscious level, but Jameson has trained to notice such things and apparently so has Darston.

    Both men pause for a moment, Darston looks across the crowded stands and turns his eyes back to Jameson.

    An interesting game you seem to be playing Augustus he says loudly enough for all those around to hear. I think this may turn out to be a very interesting outing indeed. I wonder if you even understand what sort of thing you may be about to unleash.

    Jameson smiles and laughs uneasily.

    Elsewhere among the nobles, the shift rubs on nerves. Body guards find their hands drifting towards weapons, while most nobles seem, or at least act, oblivious, a few begin to show signs of nerves clear enough to be recognized by even a casual observer.

    Deep among them, unnoticed by all . . . . or at least unnoticed in the truth of who he is, Kanos smiles broadly as he feels the tension wash through the air. He plucks a canape off the passing tray of the young Eris and bites into it with his razor sharp teeth. The young woman feels a shiver run up her spine, but when she turns to look sees only groups of nobles chattering loudly.

    Deep in the bowels of the Arena, Davis is suiting up. He feels the change in air, as do the unseen things swirling around him, and he hears the crowd chanting for blood.

    He hefts the sword he had been given, its as light as a feather.

    Blood he will give them. Oh Yes. As much blood as they could desire and more.
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  16. - Top - End - #166
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    6th of Bargenholt, A bit before Noon
    Exentia Street
    Mikado, Anselme


    The Ikokuian chuckled. "I'm fairly certain our good Milverton was less thinking date and more retinue when he made it plus two. As am I, really -- I'm not asking you to work for me, but I didn't bring anyone along and haven't yet made that many contacts. It's only been a couple of days, after all, and I'm in no particular hurry yet. And considering your bearing so far, I'm sure you won't embarrass me, at least. And with some luck, you'll manage to charm your way into some real money there. And on the plus side, whatever debts your personal honor may dictate for you, if you aid me in making a good impression you can consider them squared."

    "While I'd of course prefer to bring a proper date along, I fear I've yet to meet a woman here I'd consider my match. I don't exactly go for the silly girl type; I prefer someone I can call an equal. To match me in wits, and hopefully in a sparring as well. With time, I'm sure I'll find some prospects -- and it won't hurt that by then I'll hopefully be back in shape, as well."

    Whatever thoughts Anselme was entertaining, they apparently hadn't even occurred to the foreigner.

    "And yes, the Eighth. In two days." Mikado noted, looking thoughtful as he took one hand from the railing, balling it up and rested it against his chin. "I'm not quite sure what exactly you're asking in regards to 'how', but I think there'll be plenty to attract the crowd already, considering I'm rather new and exotic to boot. And so modest, too." He chuckled, then paused. He seemed to consider something, then decided to continue. "Ah, might as well tell you, you'll hear about it soon enough. I already made arrangements for my new home that might make for a bit of a scandal. I happened to speak to this Jameson a couple of days ago and, wonder of wonders, he just so happened to know of a mansion that recently seems to have misplaced its noble owner and is hence available for far less than its actual worth." Certain that the sharp Anselme had caught on already, he didn't bother to mention that the noble this mansion belonged to was the very same that was being executed very soon.

    "But back to the topic at hand. I'm staying at an inn currently, it's actually not that far away from here. Depending on where you've put your shoes down, I suggest we meet up somewhere in-between and walk to the Arena. Wouldn't want to frighten any fragile egos there by getting acclimated too quickly. Or do you have a better suggestion?"


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    6th of Bargenholt, A bit before Noon
    Exentia Street
    Mikado, Anselme


    "Hmm, on second thought, it may be easiest if I wait for you by the main entrance to the Arena. We'll go in together. I'll attempt to be there as early as possible. Eh... if you'll excuse me, I think I've just spotted someone I know and should say 'hello'."

    Anselme dropped from the railing and bowed his head quickly to Mikado before scurrying off nervously. Perhaps it was someone who had just seen him.

    Four hours prior...

    Three small graves lay side by side. Two men had dug them in the span of an hour and laid down three slender bodies in the earth. They'd made jokes as they dug; theirs was grim work, even if they cared nothing for those they interred. A bit of levity helped pass the time and assuage the choking morning mist and the oppressive silence of the graveyard. When they'd left, each grave was marked only by a round stone with no name. There would be no one coming to pay their respects, not today, not ever. Eventually a holy man passed by to mumble the rites. His words were hollow and rushed, well practiced too. He nearly went up to see his god when he realized he was not alone in mist.

    "My son... you nearly scared me to death! How long have you been standing there?"

    "All morning," Anselme's reply was uncharacteristically cold and brief. He stood with his head bowed and his hands shoved deep within his jacket pockets.

    The priest looked up and down Anselme's fine garb and smirked in spite of himself, "My son these... these are pauper graves." He acted as if the remark was helpful, as if Anselme had mistaken the part of the cemetery for another.

    "I am aware, father. Why don't you run along and mumble some prayers for the beloved. I know the words well enough, the gods will not be offended if they come from my lips instead of yours."


    Partly shocked, offended and scared for his life, the priest took a last look at Anselme and thought better of what he was about to say. He moved away from the spot as quickly as his legs would carry him without breaking into a run. His hands trembled and his breath short. He knew not why.

    Anselme didn't watch the man depart, he only kept his eye on the center stone of the three. He said no prayers of his own, nor did he finish the rites. After a long, long time in silence, he merely kissed the back of his gloved hand, sighed, and departed.
    Last edited by Nefarion Xid; 2011-09-14 at 05:08 PM.

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    8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    2:15 PM
    The Lord’s Arena


    “I believe we have the Machinist’s Guild to thank for that, Ambassador.” Tarin had appeared gracefully next to the finely-dressed Rhetizian, and there was a note of wry humor in his voice as he spoke. “Some cooling device they’ve been tinkering with for days, although I wonder if it’s truly the most...elegant...solution.”

    A few feet away, a sour look passed over Marcos’ face as his master joined the representative of the Shadow City, but Tarin would have ignored it even if his back had not been turned. The people of Rhetiz were known for their brutal efficiency, and the Inquisitor was possessed of a deep respect for that rare quality; he wouldn’t miss a chance to pay his respects to Ghedim. “But forgive me, I’m being horribly rude!” Raising his wineglass in a gesture of good will, Tarin continued, “It is a pleasure to see you here amongst us, Ambassador, and I hope Fortune smiles on you and yours in these uncertain days.”
    Last edited by the_druid_droid; 2011-09-14 at 06:58 PM.
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    8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    2:15 PM
    The Lord’s Arena


    Ghedim returned Tarin's toast and took a polite sip from his glass.

    "And to you, Inquisitor. I hear that you are to thank for the show today - impressive work, convincing a noble madman to confess."

    Ghedim's eyes surveyed the entirety of the Inquisitor, and in the bright light they seemed to take on an almost reptilian quality. He knew of Tarin's reputation, but it seemed he was determined to judge the Inquisitor for himself.

    "Why does it not surprise me that we have the Mechanists to thank for this distraction. If I desired an environment where I had to raise my voice for a polite conversation and contend with a constant wind, I would have scheduled a party on my yacht."

    Ghedim leaned closer, allowing his voice to drop.

    "Not that Milverton could afford a yacht."

    Ghedim chuckled, flicking his attention to their host for a moment before returning it to Tarin.

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    8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    2:15 PM
    The Lord’s Arena


    Tarin smiled an acknowledgment of the ambassador’s compliment, and as the Rhetizian measured him, the Inquisitor offered an explanation. “I have found after many years’ experience, that all men, mad or otherwise, respond to properly-administered incentives. The true difficulty lies in finding the correct incentive for the occasion.”

    As Ghedim leaned forward, Tarin mirrored his motion, causing a worried grimace to play over Marcos’ face for a moment. At the ambassador’s comment about their host, a wicked twist developed in his smile, before smoothing out as though it had never been. Glancing at the large cooling units scattered around the club, Tarin added, “It would seem that inconveniences are the least of one’s worries when dealing with the Guild, however. Perhaps you’ve heard the strange rumors of a mechanical thing attacking Sorcerers and guardsmen alike? I wonder if they’ll be able to pass that off as an accident, or fluke or some such?” The Inquisitor kept a watch on the ambassador’s face, gauging his response to his conspiratorial tone.
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    8th of Bargenholt 3817 AoT
    2:15 PM
    The Lord's Arena
    Xavier de Forza


    "You don't mingle with the nobles of Taelarys much, do you Claye? Everyone here, save perhaps us and the servants, is plotting against everyone else to try to raise the power of their house one little iota. Add in the sorcerous houses, and the nobles from Rhetiz, and there's a good chance that someone here WILL be dead by tomorrow." He shook his head at the oddities of the nobility. "Gods that hum is annoying. I don't suppose we have anything that could act as a muffler? Preferably something inflammable?" With this new idea, Xavier hurries off into a back room where they had stored their supplies. After a few seconds, he finds the box he had brought the generator in, and the packaging he had stuffed around the generator to protect it.

    8th of Bargenholt 3817 AoT
    2:17 PM
    The Lord's Arena
    Xavier de Forza


    Xavier smiles as he looks at his work. It wasn't quite as pretty now, as being a large, generator shaped bag, but that was a sacrifice he had to make. On the other hand, however, the hum was much more bearable now, blending into the background noise of the crowd.
    Last edited by ForzaFiori; 2011-09-15 at 01:34 PM.
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    8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    Prior to the Execution
    The Lord’s Arena


    Ghedim took another sip before responding to the Inquisitor, allowing his eyes to drift over the cooling units. Drawing his glass back, he turned his attention to it before placing it between him and Tarin.

    "Well, Inquisitor, let us consider this glass. Granted, the glassblowers guild is nowhere near as powerful as the Mechanists, but their craft requires the same deft artifice to succeed at. Yet, even the work of the simple glassblower can be corrupted. I could shatter this glass on the table and slit your throat before your man could react. I could throw it at his Imperial Highness in a futile attempt to besmirch the Empire. I could even kill myself, and besmirch this entire gathering. If all that and more is possible by the misuse of the glassblower's art, we must consider how much more dangerous the Mechanists' art is. Such isolated incidents would seem unavoidable, even if they are barbaric and cruel. I realize you have a vested interest in hobbling the Mechanists, but I think you'll find that they will see to their own mistakes."

    Just then, Xavier managed to muffle the hum from his generator, and silence spread between the murmurs of polite conversation.

    "You see? The Mechanists may not foresee every consequence of their actions, but they seem remarkably adept at solving any problems that arise."

    Waiting for Tarin to respond, Ghedim caught a flash of worker's clothes that stood out in the sea of satin and opulence. Focusing in on them, he sighted Claye moving through the crowd, and a smile spread across his face. Raising his hand, he called out to her.

    "Madame Claye! I wonder if you might add your experience and wisdom to our conversation. The Inquisitor and I were discussing the recent outbreak of murders and the Mechanist creation that seems to be at the center of it."

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  23. - Top - End - #173
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    8th of Bargenholt
    The Area (Diamond Club Terrace)
    1:48 p.m.
    Eris, serving Michael


    Eris smiled and looked honestly confused by Michael's request.

    What? He wants me to spy on the nobles for him?

    Eris thought about it for a second. But to betray Jameson was a terrible idea, especially for this noble. She was curious who he was. Very foolish if he thought acting like a nice grownup would convince her.

    She smiled and bowed again.
    "I see, my lord, ah... I apologize, but Lord di Milverton would cut my tongue if I was to do such a thing. All information is Lord's here. He would say I betrayed the guests." She responded. Her precise accent again clashed. Saying 'di' and not 'd' was a strange precise saying. Quickly however, Eris was already leaving.

    "You are right sir, I'm sorry, I must see to the other guests now. Please excuse me." Eris used the excuse to her advantage, to escape the awkward conversation.

    As she walked away, she frowned. And some of these nobles do look nervous. Perhaps something big is going to happen? I wonder if that nobleman knew something important. Perhaps he is looking for spies or traitors... But he didn't notice me, so it is fine. She realized then the Prince was supposed to arrive soon. Eris hurried through the crowd.


    8th of Bargenholt
    The Area (Diamond Club Terrace)
    2:15 p.m.
    Eris


    The crowd was getting restless. For poor Eris, it was getting more difficult to navigate. All of the guests were here, and many were starting to crowd. To get more food or drink before the event.

    It felt like weather when it is before a storm.
    And suddenly she was aware faintly a hand had taken a canape off of her tray. And there was a dangerously cold feeling around that hand. Something that made her shiver.
    She turned quickly, eyes wide. Her body didn't want to see. It was a child telling her to curl up safely somewhere warm.
    But she knew she had to see. Identify this evil.
    But when she turned, there was only the crowd.
    Eris blinked, taking a deep breath.
    Her heart was beating fast. Her arms shook a little. But she was safe. She was in control.
    She turned warily to work again.

    Something was not right.
    A small wild grin pulled on her mouth. She could still feel cold sweat and adrenaline. Always when this happened, the scar on her back ached a little, even though it was almost faded.
    She as a sorcerer at heart, of course it did.

    This was going to be very interesting. But Eris was now sure she would be prepared.
    Would Jameson?
    Eris could see him sitting with the Prince.
    Surely he would have prepared for trouble.
    But Eris was not so confident now. She would have to make her own plan.
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    Quote Originally Posted by DJDeMiko View Post
    8th of Bargenholt
    1:30 PM
    The Diamond Club Terrace
    Jameson


    Jameson bows to Kyranis.

    Please, it is an honor to have you both here. House Ostrim is always welcome within these walls. I'd actually love to speak with you about the house at some future point, such an interesting history the house has, I would love to hear more of it.
    Kyranis makes no move, nor do his companions.

    "Thank you for the kind welcome, Lord d'Milverton. I believe that could be arranged."
    Last edited by Lady Serpentine; 2011-09-15 at 09:44 AM.

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    8th of Bargenholt
    1:30 PM
    The Diamond Club Terrace
    Jameson speaking with Kyranis


    "That would be quite excellent in deed." Jameson turns to the small pretty woman beside him.

    "Ms. Twill, please contact his people to set up a meeting in the near future."

    ooc - Jameson would politely listen to another comment or two from Kyranis, but would have to greet the line of guests coming in behind him.
    Last edited by DJDeMiko; 2011-09-15 at 10:52 AM.
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    5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    Late Morning
    Exentia Street, The White Goblet
    Mikado, Eiko


    Yes, getting sober. That would help.
    Carefully, with an economy of movements, she opened the pouch to take a discrete glance at the contents. She liked what she was seeing.
    A bit less what she was hearing.
    “Clothes?”
    Eiko suspected he wasn't talking about practical vests and boots. More like something unnecessarily fancy or frilly. And she was in bad terms with everything frilly.
    On the other hand, this man was about to be her new boss. A very good boss. And if there was one fact of life she was aware of, it was that of all the people you can threaten and punch to improve a situation, you can't improve anything with a non-violent future employer. Embarrassing. Nothing better to do that deal with it.
    “Clothes”, she mumbled. “I won't be wearing them whenever it's not strictly necessary.” It was not a request, or even an order, but a statement of fact. As certain as the sun sets some time after it rises and crows are rude little twerps, Eiko Shimang won't put them on unless she has to. Incidentally, she also suspected she will often have to.
    The pouch was shoved down in the safety of the deepest pocket. “Three days. I should hurry. Unless you have anything more to tell me, I'll get that thing done as soon as possible. Still have a couple things to do at the Machinist Guild afterwards.”
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    8th of Bargenholt
    1:30 PM
    The Diamond Club Terrace
    Jameson speaking with Kyranis


    Kyranis nods to Jameson, and proceeds inside.

    ((If you want to not wait to contact them, I'm fine with doing two timelines. Or not. I don't really care too much either way.))

  28. - Top - End - #178
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    5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    Late Morning
    Exentia Street, The White Goblet
    Mikado, Eiko


    "Hah!" At that, the Ikokuian actually laughed out loud. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression pleased as he watched Eiko put the pouch away. "Don't worry, it'll be something both functional and formal-looking. While it is important to keep a certain panache and sense of style, I believe that any clothes that hinder you in a fight are useless."

    He leaned back on his chair, placing two leather boots onto the chair. Rather surprising from a noble, but Mikado looked comfortable enough as he stretched a little. "Don't get too excited just yet, I haven't even told you where I live. Or what event it is, for that matter."

    Eiko's new employer briefly described the location where she should show up tomorrow to receive further instructions -- and some rudimentary lessons in etiquette for the execution, from Mikado himself.


    8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    1:49 PM
    The Lord's Arena
    Anselme, Eiko, Mikado


    Neither a carriage nor a herald announced the coming of the next invited guest, yet the presence of this small group of three would nevertheless draw a number of stares as the tall but thin frame of Tatsudoshi-no-Mikado stepped through the entrance. He was followed by two other individuals, whom might well draw quite a bit of attention on their own merit: the mysterious Anselme, recently dragged out of a river by the eccentric Ikoku noble and the Tengu Eiko Shimang, now dressed in formal clothing, whose very presence as Mikado's attendant was a curiosity in itself.

    Mikado was not hard to spot, his skin tone and features clearly marked him as a foreigner -- the slightly olive complexion, combined with his thin eyes identified him as a native of Ikoku. With rumors abound about a rich person arriving on the trade ship, the Pearl of His August Personage, The Emperor of Ikoku, it was far from difficult to guess at his identity, for aside from Jameson himself, few present here would recognize his face.

    Yet the rumors also said he had arrived and walked into Taelarys alone; now, he was accompanied by a tengu as well as a man who looked to be a native.

    Clearly the Ikokuian had acclimated very quickly, for despite expectations some might have, he was clothed entirely in the manner of a Taelarysian noble. He wore a fine white shirt underneath a black vest, with silken pants of the same color. Polished boots completed the image -- not overly elaborate or fancy, but still quite fine and with a sense for practicality. His long, black hair was neatly bound together into a ponytail by a red string, keeping it out of his eyes as he slowly let his gaze travel through the room.

    At the initial greeting by a servant, the new arrival nodded leisurely, naming himself and his 'plus two' before he turned his attention towards Anselme and Eiko.

    "High attendance," Mikado noted, "as expected. I suppose the host will want to greet us before we can mingle without being insulting."


  29. - Top - End - #179
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    RogueGuy

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    Default Re: The Playground: Whispers of Taelarys IC

    8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    1:50 PM
    The Lord's Arena
    Jameson with Anselme, Eiko, Mikado


    As the three walk in Jameson nods his head to each and extends his hand to Mikado.

    “Mikado,” he says, “It is a pleasure to see you here.”

    He extends his hand to Eiko. “And you have brought a Tangu, what a treat, I have only ever met a few of your people in the city.”

    Finally he extends his hand to Anselme, not allowing his curiosity to show, he had no idea who this man was. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Anselme.”


    8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    Before the main event
    The Lord's Arena
    Jameson interrupts Ghedim, Tarin and Claye


    Making his last minute rounds Jameson seems to coincidentally find himself standing next to the group all smiles and hand shakes.

    “Ahh it is truly a pleasure to have you with us today Mr. Ardalion,” Jameson says with a large smile. “After all without your efforts we may not have seen justice served!”

    He turns to Ghedim “Ambassador al Rastrim, thank you so much for attending. I must say that I am not as familiar with Rhetizian customs as I would like, are executions public events there as well?"

    Finally to Claye “CLaye isn't it? Another mechanical genius. I understand you are part of these wonderous inventions, I would love to chat with you in the future about some ideas I have for improvements to the Arena."


    8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    Before the main event
    The Lord's Arena
    Jameson finds Xavier


    "Xavier, a totally thrilling job on these machines. Some bugs to work out I think, but marvelous none the less!"
    Last edited by DJDeMiko; 2011-09-15 at 08:30 PM.
    Annoying Gamer says - Hollywood is sooooooooo unoriginal. Hey, check out my dual wielding drow Drazzit!

    Annoying Gamer says - My level 1 character's background is pretty complex. After fighting in the three great wars, he was forced to return home and kill an elder dragon single handily.

  30. - Top - End - #180
    Troll in the Playground
     
    ForzaFiori's Avatar

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    8th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
    Before the main event
    The Lord's Arena
    Xavier De Forza


    "Indeed. I'm happy with it, considering the short time span. Now that you've provided us such an excellent testing ground, perhaps Claye and myself can work out the rest of the kinks and begin putting these in the homes of nobles." Xavier looks around, and Jameson can almost see all the nobles in the room turn into large stacks of gold in his eyes. "Of course, upgrading the one here would be included in the original price, and I'm sure we could work out some way of getting them in the other buildings for a discount." he adds.
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