[Nexus] MURDER I: Causing Fear Since About Five Minutes Ago.

[BladeofOblivion]

[The Operative's Office - Sarah]

She nods. "Please do. I'm sure it will be a pleasure working for you."


She'll take the paper and see if she can't find the room. And then she'll probably lock it and take a nap.

[Rotting Baron]

[The Operative's Office]

It shouldn't be hard for Sarah to find her room in the Barracks. The ghost, in the meantime, waits in his office.

[BladeofOblivion]

[Shooting Range]

Sarah is practicing at the Shooting Range, though she's using a dagger to strike at key points rather than actually shooting.

[Kris on a Stick]

Originally Posted by Dark Apprentice

[The Front]

John looks at the man. "Haven't heard about anything like that."

[The Operative's Office - Kal]

"Straightforward. I like that. Although your origins raise a question, more out of curiosity than anything. If you're from Hell, how much time can you devote to this organization?"

[The Operative's Office - Kal]

"Quite a bit, actually. As I said, Hell isn't exactly busy, beyond the usual, and I'm not particularly high up in the hierarchy." This is a lie, of course. Hell always has plans, and plans in case those plans fail, and of course more plans behind that, and Kal is involved with lots of them. But then, Kal knows how to tell a lie.

[Rotting Baron]

[The Operative's Office - Kal]

Normally, the Operative would be able to see through any lie, no matter how well it was told. But, because of the interesting results of his last attempt, the spectre has decided not to read Kal's mind. Still, he's not exactly a trusting person.

"Fair enough. Now we get to the important question. What exactly can you contribute to our assets? What are your skills?"

[Zefir]

Kitchen

Fade returns from is room and enters the kitchen. He first looks for Nuke Cola and then realizes that this is Trog's special drink which isn't sold everywhere. Instead he makes himself a sandwitch and starts walking around.

[bladescape]

[The Front]

The figure slinks in, sitting quietly at the back of the Commonroom. Turiel couldn't ever stand being up the front, he much preferred the darkness in behind.

He wasn't wearing the 'Death-mask', and so all could see the hood framing his clearly elfish face, Silver hair tucked in behind his ears and streaks of black skin across his otherwise unmarred face. His pupils were blood-red.

He smiled slightly, watching the other patrons of the bar. None of them knew of the true power. The power only his master knew of, the power only he could give. It was a pity he conflicted with himself, he didn't understand how sometimes he could be so cheerful and helpful. That was a mockery of his true power and his mastery over death.

He cradled in his arms the Tome that bound his soul. The book that brought him his power. Drow Black-Wine, he wondered if this place stocked it... He sat back in his chair, his cloak encompassing most of his form and hiding the small knives and short-blades he had. The gauntlets on his hands and armour worn just a small reminder not to mess with him. Although that itself wasn't apparant to those who knew not of his Cult.

[Rotting Baron]

[Main Room]

Normally, the Operative could only get a sense of names, and not at that far of a range. But when the elf enters his front, he gets rather more. Maybe that man was weak to psionics. A man with that kind of control over shadow, though, could be very useful to the organization. He'd have to try to get that person down here.

[The Front]

The figure, therefore, may be receiving a telepathic message from the Operative. Listen to me very carefully. Act as if I do not exist.

[bladescape]

[The Front]

Telepathy and psychic powers. The only thing that Turiel wouldn't expect, or has a defense against. He really needs to get some protection against such.

He flicks the book open as soon as he hears the voice. "Why should I act as if I did have a voice in my head?" He asks, thinly veiled annoyance and sarcasm evident in his voice, if the Operative could hear that.

[Rotting Baron]

[The Front]

Unfortunately, the Operative can't hear well from a mile underground, but let's assume Turiel also thought that.

Partially because I need to maintain a public face, and you talking up there can cause suspicion. Mostly, though, because you're about to receive something of an offer. The voice is nearly monotonic.

Go to the bar, and order A Drink. I feel it prudent that we speak in person.

[bladescape]

[The Front]

An offer? Turiel thought over it for a moment, and then... What the heck. It's not like he couldn't leave whenever he wanted to.

The book slams shut as Turiel stands up, walking across to the bar. His left hand fingers the Death-Mask as he leans across the bar and orders the requested drink.

[Rotting Baron]

[The Front]

The bartender gives the requested drink, but also points Turiel to the back room, where an open elevator would be waiting for him.

[bladescape]

[The Front - The Elevator]

Turiel takes the drink, but throws it aside as he enters the Elevator room, out of sight. He enters the Elevator, calmly wondering to himself what it was that wanted to 'make a deal' with him.

[Rotting Baron]

[Elevator - Main Room]

The elevator zips down to the main room. There, the one secretary points Turiel to the Operative's office. He might get surprised at the specter in that room, "sitting" at a desk.

[bladescape]

[The Elevator - The Main Room - The Operative's Office]

Turiel stepped out of the Elevator calmly, looking briefly around before following the pointing finger. The Hexagonal room was interesting, but not why he was here.

He wasn't that surprised at the spectre, as dealing with Spirits of the unresting dead was something he had done before. "You're the one who offered me a 'deal', correct?" He asks, his power fluctuating as he lazily flicked the pages at the top of the book.

[Rotting Baron]

[The Operative's Office - Turiel]

The Operative is actually rather unique among ghosts, given that he isn't technically undead. He only exists as a spirit.

"A very astute observation, Mr. Eseina," the Operative replies, having read the elf's mind. "Do you have any guesses as to where you've arrived?"

[bladescape]

[The Operative's office]

Turiel glares, and steps lightly back. The ghost knew far too much to be natural at all. "I'm underground, in a facility of some kind. Quite possibly a secret organization from the double-deal and the whole secrecy factor. What deal did you talk about before. It's the only reason I'm down here."

[Rotting Baron]

[The Operative's Office - Turiel]

The Operative makes a gesture towards the empty seat in front of Turiel. "The deal is for a membership here. 'Here' meaning an organization of assassins, spies, and the like." I neglected to mention this, but the ghost has been staring into the elf's eyes with his lenses. It might be a little unsettling.

[bladescape]

[The Operative's Office]

Perhaps it was unsettling Turiel. He was somewhat skittish at any rate. "What would be the reason you think I'd join?" He asks, "Or maybe you didn't think about that. It's not like I'd join the first assassination group that asked me." He already assumed the Ghost knew what he did, considering it already knew so much else.

[Rotting Baron]

[The Operative's Office - Turiel]

"The first? Perhaps you want to rethink that statement." The Operative would smile if he had a mouth. "No other group of assassins exists here in the Nexus. I know that your abilities lend you to such a life, and so far, you are proving me correct." The specter shifts a little, but doesn't interrupt that cold stare.

[bladescape]

[The Operative's Office]

"I do not come from here. Where I come from, assassination groups did wish to procure my allegience." He replies, as he finally relaxes enough to sit into the chair.

[Rotting Baron]

[The Operative's Office - Turiel]

"Very few do come from here." The Operative pauses for a few moments to let that sink in. "Right now, you have an offer from an admittedly small organization, but the chance to assist with its growth into a dominant force in the Nexus."

[bladescape]

[The Operative's Office]

"You are sure you are the only group?" Turiel asks, slowly. Closing his eyes, he waited for a reply from the Ghost.

And from a decision from his Master....

[Rotting Baron]

[The Operative's Office - Turiel]

"I did intelligence work before I founded this organization," the Operative replies. "We are the only assassin's guild in this world."

[bladescape]

[The Operative's Office]

Turiel leaned back, frowning at the Operative as he thought. "I expect you already know of all my abilities." He comments idly, before finally feeling the reply he was waiting for. "It seems I have nothing that would particularly stop me from making myself available to help you. I suppose there's a contract around here?"

[Rotting Baron]

[The Operative's Office - Turiel]

"I know of your shadow magic. Though if you have anything else..." Turiel's mind was a very strange case to the Operative. It was the only time he's been able to get anything beyond a true name. "There's one in front of you right now," the ghost says. And indeed, the elf will find a blank membership form and pen in front of him. Probably got there via telekinesis.

[Zefir]

[Main Room]

Fade walks around searching for the operativ.

[bladescape]

[The Operative's Office]

"I also fight with weapons. Knives. I'm an assassin." He sounds somewhat hurt, but will then move on to the Application Form.

Turiel's Form:

Spoiler

Name: Turiel Eseina
Age: 435 is close enough.
Gender: Male
Species: Elf
Specialization: Assassinations, Mass killing
Power Source: Shadow Magic and Training
Other Important Information: ???

[Rotting Baron]

[The Operative's Office - Turiel]

The Operative looks at Turiel's membership form. "Very well. Consider yourself a member. Familiarize yourself with the facility, if you wish." Turiel will find a folded piece of paper near the hand he used to fill out the form.

[Main Room]

The Operative will probably be in his office. He almost never leaves it.

((Deadtime.))

[BladeofOblivion]

[Practice Range]

Sarah is here, exterminating targets with a dagger. Granted, they're dummies, but it's only a small leap of imagination before you see perforated humans.

...Oh, and now she's slicing her wrists open and using the blood to literally melt their faces off.