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9th Circle Heist Chapter I - From Plague Mort to Smaragd
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<blockquote data-quote="Shayuri" data-source="post: 2621393" data-attributes="member: 4936"><p>Thorn lounges against the wall near the doorway as the cryptkeeper speaks. She doesn't look at the woman-thing, instead choosing to scrutinize the faces of the others in the pack while their attentions are almost certainly distracted. She nearly cracks a laugh at the sight of the dretch, squat and harmless looking. Unless, of course, one ignored the many objects of power that adorned it. In the Lower Planes, such objects belonged only to those strong enough to keep them. Clearly, no ordinary dretch.</p><p></p><p>Her eyes lingered on the succubus as well, though only for an instant. Thorn knew the type. Demons of pleasure and pain, and the no-one's-land between, where they mingled and became something else entirely. Of all the demons she'd dealt with, Thorn disliked Succubi the most. They were among the few demons that were capable of subtleties like -pretending- to be friendly...which made the betrayal all the more horrible. It didn't help that she probably had succubus/incubus blood in her as well.</p><p></p><p>Not that Thorn was any better, of course. It was all a question of perspective.</p><p></p><p>She herself was a study in contrasts. Dark, unkempt hair that topped her head like a tuft of black flame. White skin of almost deathly pallor...beautiful in a cold sort of way; more like a sculpture of a lovely woman than an actual living being. Prominent cheeks, strong, angular nose, full lips and dark eyes...she was no succubus with her athletic figure, but the seeds of that line could be seen in her face; in the shape of her waist and hips and legs. And, of course, in the smallish set of violet-black batlike wings that curled from her back. Thorn wears a set of mithril chain, enameled to be dead black, and bolstered by spells to blend with shadows and dampen any noise the wearer makes. </p><p></p><p>"No one followed us," Thorn says quietly, with conviction. "</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Shayuri, post: 2621393, member: 4936"] Thorn lounges against the wall near the doorway as the cryptkeeper speaks. She doesn't look at the woman-thing, instead choosing to scrutinize the faces of the others in the pack while their attentions are almost certainly distracted. She nearly cracks a laugh at the sight of the dretch, squat and harmless looking. Unless, of course, one ignored the many objects of power that adorned it. In the Lower Planes, such objects belonged only to those strong enough to keep them. Clearly, no ordinary dretch. Her eyes lingered on the succubus as well, though only for an instant. Thorn knew the type. Demons of pleasure and pain, and the no-one's-land between, where they mingled and became something else entirely. Of all the demons she'd dealt with, Thorn disliked Succubi the most. They were among the few demons that were capable of subtleties like -pretending- to be friendly...which made the betrayal all the more horrible. It didn't help that she probably had succubus/incubus blood in her as well. Not that Thorn was any better, of course. It was all a question of perspective. She herself was a study in contrasts. Dark, unkempt hair that topped her head like a tuft of black flame. White skin of almost deathly pallor...beautiful in a cold sort of way; more like a sculpture of a lovely woman than an actual living being. Prominent cheeks, strong, angular nose, full lips and dark eyes...she was no succubus with her athletic figure, but the seeds of that line could be seen in her face; in the shape of her waist and hips and legs. And, of course, in the smallish set of violet-black batlike wings that curled from her back. Thorn wears a set of mithril chain, enameled to be dead black, and bolstered by spells to blend with shadows and dampen any noise the wearer makes. "No one followed us," Thorn says quietly, with conviction. " [/QUOTE]
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