Of Vile Darkness

Lord Torr Stormbringer; human weretiger/rogue/fighter

*Torr tossed the letter into the kitchen hearth fire. While cocky, he wasn't foolish. No sense in leaving any possible evidence behind.*

*Torr directed Rosalyn to prepare him a warm bath and to ready his best "casual evening" attire. As he soaked, he let his mind wander...imagining what manner of work this newest job would entail. The last few, while gratifying, had been beneath his abilities. Perhaps this Butterfly chap would have noted this by now and pushed a more rewarding task his way.*

*Rosalyn toweled Torr dry. It was a stretch for the girl to reach his neck and head, so much taller than her he stood. She annoited his well-muscled body with lightly scented oil, an exotic and expensive import from some distant land, and then helped him dress.*

*When the servant was finished, Torr felt fresh and ready to be seen on the street. He bent over and planted a gentle kiss on Rosalyn's lips, another on her cheek, and then gently nibbled the lobe of her ear.*

"Thank you, my beauty," Torr said smoothly. "Try not to work too hard tonight."

She is coming along nicely, Stormrider said in the back of his mind. Another couple months, perhaps.

*Torr left the house, tucking his ornamental dagger into his belt. Stormrider, he knew, was referring to Rosalyn as being the next Godsfeast...as the symbiont liked to call it. Many times over the last few years, Stormrider had directed Torr to manipulate a girl to the point of complete infatuation. Then, when she was most vulnerable and attached to the faux lord, Stormrider would demand to feast. This generally entailed Torr bedding the girl after an indulgent night, and then turning into the Beast. The sheer intensity of terror and betrayal was an emotional feast fit for the gods, or so Stormrider claimed.*

*The Godsfeast always ended in death. Torr occasionally lamented the loss of an affectionate young woman, but rarely for long. Typically, the woman was born beneath him. More importantly, his allegiance to Stormrider always came first. To spurn Stormrider was to risk losing the symbiont, and that was something Torr could not allow to have happen. Many years removed, he could still recall perfectly the empty husk of the talented whore Synflower on the morning after the symbiont had left her for him.*

That's right, Stormrider said. You owe everything to me. You've been such a good ride, though. I trust our relationship will continue for some time.

*Torr arrived at the King's Head tavern at the tail end of dusk. Noise and light already spilled out into the street, though it would intensify for some hours before beginning to quiet again. King's Head, Torr thought. I wonder which King's head this was named for...and how it came to be known independently of that King's body.*

*Torr pushed the door open and let the wave of sounds and smells wash over him before purposefully walking in. Not immediately seeing his contact, he sauntered off to a corner table and invited himself into a game of dice. The rabble were eager to let in the apparent young noble with his deep purse and mediocre luck. Torr merely played and drank to pass the time until Hasord arrived.*

Roach, Male Human Cancer Mage

Ray Silver said:

"Damn you, you weak little twist, I take you in and this is how you act toward someone who's willing to donate to the Sister?! You take his coin. Do it!" Sivi snarls, shaking the girl. Sobbing, the girl reaches out for your coins and takes them from your clawed hand. Sivi tightens her grip and the girl whimpers in pain. "You need anything else from her Roach? This one needs discipline, and we know what discipline comes from, don't we little girl?"

*She continues to hold the young girl and raises an eyebrow at you inquiringly.*

Click to expand...

*A bit of fluid starts to ooze from the corner of Roach's left eyes as he peers at the horrified girl. One might mistake it for a tear, except for the crimson trail it leaves upon the filthy strips of cloth twisted over his face. As he reaches his twisted, knarled hand toward the young girl, a centipede twist around his wrist, it's antenna waving wildly.*

Her face ashen, the young girl draws her face away, onto to gasp at Sivi renewed grip on her arm. She gulps, her stomach churning audibly, and straightens, tensed for Roach's touch.

*Clawed fingers trail lightly through the waif's hair, seperating the silky locks. Roach takes a step closer, things visibly moving underneath his worn rags. Leaning forward, he takes a long, gurgling sniff of the girl's hair, then wipes his nose on his forearm. He turns toward Sivi, eyes narrowed slyly.*

"This one's fresh...bent, but unbroken. My touch would ruin her for you."

The girls suddenly shrieks, eyes widening in horror as she look down to see a fleshly apprendage curling about her thigh. The fleshly tentacle swiftly withdraws into the darkness beneath Roach's cloak. It did leave a gift for the young girl though; a viscous trail of slime coating her leg. The girl tries to break free of Sivi's grasp, cries echoing off the walls of the alley. Sivi's sobering slap cracks like a bullwhip as she hisses, "Enough!"

"My apologies for the disorder I have brought your home, but you are welcome for the excuses I have given you. She is a comely child indeed. When you have used her for all you want from her, I will take what remains."

*Roach turns and begins walking off into the alley, his hunched form still managing a sort of regal bearing as he shambles along.*

Ralam, Human Rogue 5 / Assassin 7

* Ralam stares hard a Yill for a moment and then smiles. *
"Perhaps You're right Yill. Doing it for pay would be more proper. Just because I do it for money doesn't mean it has to be a large amount of money. The Butterfly is interested in me? Hmm, well I guess I'd better be there then."

* After meeting with Yill, Ralam calls on Lady Arvnos for brunch. During the meal he tries to subtly turn the conversation to the death of Baron Gorinthal. *

"Our conversation last night got me to thinking about recent deaths amongst the aristocracy. Have you heard anything about the death of Baron Gorinthal? I understand that he was assassinated by Darkhand. He must have made some powerful enemies to warrent that. He had a family, didn't he?"

Aekir watches the tone and the atmosphere, who is a regular and who isn't, the serving wenches and who they seem to favor. He sits at one of the lower tables that give him clear view of the upper tables and the bar, towards the back, facing the enterance. He slowly sips his beer, perhaps ordering some of the stew as it gets later and his stomach reminds him it is time to eat. He watches and waits, as patient as death itself.

*Able, Darana smiles vacantly at you, then languidly reaches into the crowded shelves of the Vault. Fishing around in there she pulls out what looks to be a packet of tea. Of course, you both know better.*

"Little dream tea, little dream tea, makes things smooth and pretty, yes, yes it does. Blind Sister knows your ways," she sings, holding out her hand. "Gold I say, shiny lovely smooth pretty gold I say. Fifty I say, put the crowns here I say."

*After paying her, you go to the Hydra and make your request for hot water for your "tea." From the balcony you have a clear view of the door and all those coming and going. The tea seems to make the world smooth and easy, easy to move through, easy to sea. It gives you a sense of ease and a hint of euphoria. It's not terribly strong, but very pleasant all the same.*

*Aekir, while waiting, you notice a thin scarecrow of a man enter the bar and go the balcony to sit. He looks just a bit more... woodsy than the typical Hydra clientele, though seems to be drinking tea rather than ale. Odd.*

*About an hour later, both Able and Aekir finally spot Wode. Well, even though they were looking for it they almost missed the colorless thing. Slinking in behind the cover of a large human man, it nearly blends into the background in wrapped clothes of a soft gray. It moves to a table at the back of the ground floor, one partially hidden by half-walls and drapes to ensure privacy. This is Wode's private court. The Hydra has begun to fill up as darkness has fallen, and what might have been an obvious scurry to Wode's table now becomes a more causal drift through the crowds as people begin to seek the halfling out. It seems to be the usual crowd; assassins and thieves, thugs and sell-swords.*

*Loviana, Brother Predel doesn't seem to notice the color of your eye change. Or rather he does notice, but only to exclaim over how lovely they are. He follows your gaze to the emerald on the table.*

"Indeed. I love coming here to see what wonders the merchants bring Janela," he says, smiling. "I can never afford most of it, but I love to look and buy what I can to support the fine artisans. Look, I bought this today and was seeking someone to wear it, and it seems Sune has guided me to you," he says, lifting out a slender silver chain with a much more modest emerald pendent. It is indeed in very good taste. If you'll allow him, he'll put it over your head. "If you wish, the Hall of the Dancing Phoenix is hosting the renown bard Brightfire this evening. The concert and dancing promise to be wonderful. I will be going tonight, if you were seeking something to do."

*Ralam, the Lady Arvnos considers your question for about two breaths (the longest she's ever been silent in your presence), then erupts in a torrent of words.*

"Oh indeed, poor, dear Baron Gorinthal's death has set quite a shock among those of my set, as you can well imagine. His wife and daughters were quite distraught, and both of his sons want revenge, if you can believe. There are even rumors that they've tried to find a priest of Hoar to appeal to, thought the priests of Siamorphe don't approve of that, not in the least, don't you know. Terrible doings, with the deaths and all, it makes one wonder what could have caused it. Of course Gorinthal had a bit of a mean streak in him. Snubbed other nobles more times than he should of, what with him wanting his own family fortunes secure. Wouldn't surprise me if his own brother did something, backstabbers all of them..." she carries on in that vein for quite a while, suggesting the Baron's brothers, along with the Weldaka and Norfall noble houses as those particularly "wronged" by the Baron.

*Roach, as you go through the alleys, the thought of a feast later this evening, courtesy of Sivi, you notice that Old Mag is missing from her usual spot, as is Bril One-Foot. A bit of searching and questioning those brave enough to face you turns up that some kind of do-gooder is trying to coax some of the beggars into one of the charity houses, carrying off the weakest ones if they can't walk there.*

*Angered that one is interfering with your "kingdom," you quickly search for this evening's snack before proceeding further. It's hard to think on an empty stomach. You slink through the alleyways before coming upon Jak, a young and tender one that you've helped before. He's missing one hand and four toes, and is all the more pitiful a beggar child because of it, thanks to you. It's time to help him out again. A quick snatch, using both hands to hold down the struggles, a quick snap of the jaws, and with a gush of blood the tasty morsel fills your belly. Patting the boy on the head and setting him back out on his street corner, the blood staining his face and dribbling from where his nose used to be, you shuffle back into the alleys.*

*Torr continues to play dice, losing slightly more than he wins. The money is of little concern, however. He tries to enjoy the drink and ambiance of the King's Head.*

*After a couple hours tick away, Torr starts to become a little bit annoyed. Where is that vermin Hasord? he wonders. Wasting my time when I could be out having real fun.*

*Torr briefly considers starting a brawl just to liven things up a bit, but decides against it in the interest of not drawing too much attention to himself.*

*Torr, the King's Head seems to be popular with both some minor nobles as well as the wealthy. You gain a few dozen gold, and lose it again, holding on to your temper to avoid losing that too. Before such a loss can occur however, you spot Hasord at a corner of the bar. You'd recognize that bald head anywhere.*

*Hasord is a portly fellow, dressed in moderatly expensive fine woven linen. He looks more like a shrewd and prosperous merchant than a contact for the Butterfly, which is the point, one assumes.*

"Torr, hope you haven't been waiting long. My cousin, you know, Albot needs you to do guard duty again. He was so pleased with you when you guarded his brother during his visit that he wants your service again," he says cheerfully, taking a pull of ale. This is a cant, a hidden message. within normal conversation You've never been great at it, but the gist is that the Butterfly has a job for you, one that requires your strength.

*He watches who comes to pay homage at Wode’s court, he marks them in his mind, so he can identify them later.*

A man who does not wish to dull his senses with alcohol, probably anticipates a mission soon, perhaps now. His bow would seem to be his chosen method on that perch, perhaps he intends to snipe someone.

*Aekir keeps an eye on the anomalous tea drinker and continues to nurse his ale until late in the night. When the crowd has thinned, he will rise and walk over to Wode’s court. He steps inside and waits to be acknowledged.*

"I am Aekir, it may soon be necessary for me to operate within your territory. I am here to arrange a mutually beneficial agreement." he speaks softly in a low, gravely voice.

"Thank you ever so much for the meal my lady, but I'm afraid I must be off."
*Ralam bows and kisses her hand.*

After leaving Lady Arvnos, Ralam returns to the guildhouse to get in a few hours of training. Afterwards he returns to his apartment and is bathed and "entertained" by his new serving girl, Renna.

I really must thank Sivi for this one... and apologize for the last one. I'll have to be more careful with this one.

At dusk Ralam dons his finest clothes and heads to the King's Head. Not spotting Hasord immediately, he goes to the bar, orders a bottle of fine wine and finds a quiet corner to watch the crowd from.

Loviana: Half-Nymph/Female (Rogue/Corruptor/Bondblade)

*Loviana smiles at the pendent for it will make a nice addition to her collection.*

“Predel, theirs no reason to apologize or feel the need to.” She smiles affectionately at the cleric as she turns to allow him to put it on her. She pulls her hair up, giving him more room to work with, revealing her slender and graceful neck. “We all do are part to support them but even if it could be afforded I would rather have less and give more to poor children.” Her hands holding the emerald up closer to her eyes she smiles, "Besides I like this one the best anyway."

*Having turned back around she smiles broadly and moves closely to him when he ask her to accompany him*

“Predel, that sounds wonderful and I would love to accompany you! I heard much acclaim for Brightfire and I would die to honestly see her perform in person.” She smiles affectionately but with a slightly innocent touch as she continues, “So what should we do till then?”