Shemeska
Adventurer
And like clockwork in a rogue modron, I update...
Toras of Andros sat at his desk, away from the thin light that current waxed through the window into his room. The fog and haze of Sigil made that light a sallow, sickly mockery of the light he was used to experiencing upon Ysgard and many of the other planes. As such, he shunned the light and relied upon the abilities granted to him by his own blood-line.
For the past hour he had eaten his breakfast, washed and now sat reading over his daily meditations and holy scriptures of the power whom he served, and who as far as he was aware, was by way of His proxies, his sire. That Toras was a half celestial was certain to most observers, though his unique appearance might have led some less keen observers to ponder deeply just ‘what’ it was that he was descended from. Many might have guessed at some form of Archon, Eladrin, Aasimar or even an Asura. In fact the last two might have gotten the most guesses from those who wished to guess. Guardinal was right out, he simply possessed none of the slightly animal traits that defined the children of such matings, rare as they might be.
To the eyes, Toras stood at nearly 7 feet tall, pushing the limits of what a normal human might reach. His skin was a smooth almost unnatural white, making him seem chiseled from marble like some statue rather than being normal. His hair was long and jet black, and contrasted heavily with his pale skin. Most striking perhaps though were his eyes whose pupils flickered with an inner flame, not unlike those of some fire genasi or tieflings. However there was nothing fiendish or indeed elemental about his being as he sat and prayed, dressed even then in the brushed steel and red lacquered armor of his particular militant branch of the clergy of Andros, self proclaimed protector of children, the innocent, and the infirm.
But several hours passed by, and as he neared to the end of his devotions, there was a knock at the door. Firm but not insistent, practiced but not arrogant. The strength behind them might have been enough to wake him up, had he been asleep, but clearly it was unlikely to come from anything larger than a human.
Toras stood up and walked to the door, pausing only to place his sword to one side, away from the door, but within his own reach should he need it. Sigil had so far been a surprisingly unwelcoming place to those who seemed to not fit in with the local populace.
There was another knock at the door just as he unlocked and opened it. The knocking paused and there was a shifting of feet as the open door revealed a slim, well dressed tiefling standing in the hallway. The man was smiling politely and clothed in a suit that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a master of ceremonies at a banquet hall, or upon a lawyer in a courtroom. Despite his purple colored eyes and small horns curling back over his hair like a ram’s, he seemed a model of courtesy apt to put at ease even the most wary person.
“Toras of Andros? I do apologize sir if I woke you.” The tiefling smiled and his vaguely reptilian tail swished slowly side to side behind his back.
“And you might be?” Toras asked
“A humble servant of greater persons, though my employers have a matter they wish me to discuss with and inform you of. I dare say that you will be most intrigued. If I might sir?” he motioned with an empty hand past Toras into the room.
Toras hesitated then nodded and stepped to the side, walking first back into the room. The door remained open behind the newcomer.
“First of all, I wish to say that my employers have noticed you and your past accomplishments. You have raised their attentions since entering Sigil. To that end I have an offer of employment from them to give you. However first…” he held out a sealed scroll, then lowered it as almost as an afterthought he removed a small gemstone from one jacket pocket of his suit. He handed the gem to the half-celestial with another smile. “This may persuade you into accepting our offer. A sensory stone of a memory, as witnessed by another of my employers functionaries.” Another smile, this time almost with a knowing smirk.
Toras touched the gem and activated the memory in the form of a projected illusion in the palm of his hands. He blinked and swallowed hard involuntary at scene unfolding in his hands.
“Surely you remember your time upon the prime world of Toril a good number of years ago. During that time you fell in love with a young woman and indeed she returned your feelings. Sadly she died, and in such a manner that prevented her return to life by the most common methods. Energy drain… such a way to pass. You honored her memory and have allowed her to enjoy her rest and enjoyment of her promised reward in the beyond as a petitioner upon the upper planes. You’ve neither sought her out in her innocent now form, but allowed her her peace and reward rather than seeking to draw her back into this life and its complications and pains. As I said, you’ve chosen to honor her memory.” The tiefling smirked and raises an eyebrow, craning his neck to see the image floating in Toras’s hands that was now playing and repeating slowly in sequence.
“Sadly the priests of Bane my employer has contracted for this present job have not chosen to honor her in the slightest. No, they prefer to raise her, torture her till death and then repeat the process quite happily. They’ve done so a dozen times or more by this point. I’ve honestly lost count.”
Toras was shaking visibly as he stared down at that scene of torture and the clear enjoyment on the faces of the Banite clergy in the illusory image playing out in his hands from the sensory stone. It was indeed her, and the look upon her face…
“Mother fu*****…”
The tiefling smiled once more, the same polite geniality showing through but tainted with an obscene confidence that belied an enjoyment of his present work.
“Harsh words, but save them for the task my employer wishes to set you upon. The terms are this: read the scroll I have given to you and obey its terms to the letter. If done so to my employer’s satisfaction what you have seen in the gem will cease immediately, and those who carried it out will be killed. That young, and currently suffering woman you still by your reaction hold some feelings for, she will be allowed to rest and return to blissful ignorance upon the planes, wherever that might be. Am I clear?”
Without looking up from the scene looping once again in his hands, Toras spoke with grim and steady tones, his frame rigid and tensed, “Run now, it’ll make it more fun when I catch you.”
The tiefling was already stepping back, “Read the scroll sir and you’ll have a chance to change things. Killing me, were you capable of doing so, won’t stop her suffering. I dare say it’ll prolong it because I hold use to my employer. Enjoy the coming days sir, she won’t.” And with a brief motion with his index finger towards the illusion, he moved out the door in a burst of speed. The footsteps echoed down the hall and then abruptly stopped.
Toras gripped the gem tightly dispelling the harrowing images and bolted after the scum, sword in hand. Out in the hallway there was no one in sight, but a glimmer from a doorframe, two rooms down, spoke of the hallmarks of a just closing portal.
“Fu****…”, Toras cursed numerous times and slowly walked back to his room to sit with barely contained anger. His eyes flared with a need to right a serious wrong. Before it was over he would have that man and his puppet master on the end of his sword.
“Now what in the 9 Hells was this damned employment offer I’m being fu***** blackmailed into doing?” he muttered and spit as he broke the seal on the scroll. It looked like sparkling reddish wax, emblazoned with a wizards sigil shaped like a stylized flame.
“Dear Toras of Andros,”
“I first of all urge discretion in the reading and showing of this scroll. The eventual fate of a certain young woman lies very much on your hands at this point. The clergy of Bane in that particular location she is being held at specifically train torturers and interrogators, and even were I not paying them well they would likely continue with her for some time before moving on to another unwilling victim. If you do not wish for her to be tortured to death and routinely torn unwillingly from her afterlife to return to a mortal hell you will follow my instructions.
Firstly, I desire to meet with you. Secondly, I have a task that requires completion, and one that I will admit to not wishing to undertake myself. Blackmail is not my ideal method of action, but in this case it suits me nicely. I wish for completion of a certain task by yourself, and others procured into my service in similar fashion. Once completed, you will be sent upon your way, and the priests of Bane who hold your former beloved will be silenced and their current charge returned to her ‘eternal reward’ in the upper planes.
Again, I urge your discretion. I will meet you, and your soon to be companions at the third room on the left at the top of the stairs at the former location of the Ubiquitous Wayfarer. You will be there, for I doubt that you can live comfortably with the images that you’ve just been shown by my servant. The door to the building shall be unlocked. Meet me there at Antipeak, come alone.
– B. Trenevain”
“Bloody hell…”, he spat again and whispered a prayer to his deity. A prayer of vengeance to by action and deed see to justice and punishment those who would harm those who did not deserve such. Andros would forgive him allowing such to happen to the girl, but He would not forgive those who made her to suffer, nor would this humble servant of Andros either.
Before then however, these new ‘employers’ would need to be met and sated in the short term. Blind rage and violence, though likely fulfilling, would not bring an end to this.
“Well, Antipeak then it is. I want to see your face, if only to see how it looks before I decide to break it. You deserve that much I swear.”
Hot with anger, Toras stood up and gathered his belongings to leave. After paying for his room and tipping the cook for the morning’s meal which current circumstances now had set to churning in his stomach, he needed time to learn more about the location he was to meet at, and more about his ‘employer’ if possible as well. And so full of simmering, righteous zeal he stalked out of his room.
****
Around the same time in the spireward end of The Lower Ward a silvery blue furred Lupinal was sitting down for her morning breakfast and a drink in the common room of the Green Mill situated in the heart of Little Bytopia as the squat was called by the residents. It wasn’t Elysium, but it was closer to home than most of the city, especially more so than the fiend cluttered, soot choked streets of the rest of the Lower Ward.
She was dressed in little but to make for the local social standards, in this case a white tunic over a thin layer of fine, celestial forged chain and a short chain skirt of the same manufacture. Over the bottom she wore a colored and beaded belt and cloth of a pale ivory color, chased in places with black and silver. Pretty to the eye, but not garish or presumptive as some in the City of Doors seemed to prefer to dress. Tales of warriors in red colored, spiked and bladed armor had filtered to her ears from tales she'd been told in her travels. However she'd seen none of these 'hardheads' yet as the storyteller in Ecstacy had relayed the tale to her nearly a decade ago. She shrugged and chalked it up to an invented or embellished tale on the part of the drunken bard years ago.
Fyrhowl sipped at her thin, sweet ale and smiled. As she pondered the various places within Sigil she had been told to visit, and which to avoid, her ears involuntarily swiveled to the noise of the chair opposite her being moved. Her eyes followed suit as she beheld a smiling, well dressed and genial looking tiefling standing across the table from her.
His hand resting lightly on the top of the only other chair at her table he nodded his head to the spot, “Might I join you for breakfast? If you have a moment for me, those I represent have some information for you that they wish for me to deliver to you? If I’m intruding I can wait elsewhere till it is convenient.”
She blinked and put down her ale. He only smelled faintly of brimstone, unlike most of his kind in the ward, and unlike most of them he seemed to have dressed and presented himself in a way not intended to disturb anyone or seem confrontational. As well, he wasn’t wearing a weapon.
The lupinal nodded and gave a curious smile across her muzzle, “Please, join me. How can I help you?”
The tiefling smiled graciously with practiced ease and took his place across from her and placed a thin, red waxen sealed scroll in the center of the table between the two of them…
“I realize that you are newly arrived to Sigil. However my employers are in need of the services of one such as you. They are apparently well aware of your past services upon the planes on behalf of your celestial race, as well as your own prowess in those endeavors. Coupled with your own nature as a guardinal, they are interested in procuring your help.” He smiled again.
“Oh? Thank you, though I’m surprised they found out where I was so quickly, I’ve been in Sigil less than a day or two already. What do they need me for? I might not need payment from them depending on what they wish.” She looked curiously at the scroll lying before her.
“My employer’s words can probably explain their wishes and needs more clearly than I can. Please read if you would.” Again the tiefling smiled then flagged down one of the servers and ordered a drink of his own.
Fyrhowl broke the odd looking waxen seal, noting the sparkles of glass in the wax and how the symbol upon it seemed to flicker in the morning light like a living tongue of flame. The paper even had the smell of wood smoke to her sensitive nose as she unfurled it to read.
“Dear Fyrhowl of Elysium,”
“I first of all urge discretion in the reading and showing of this scroll. I am well aware of your sister and pack mate, Lightdancer. The last you were aware she was still on Elysium, hoping to venture off plane to follow in your own footsteps. Sadly her travels did not go far before she was taken alive by those in my employ. She is currently being held well, but confined tightly. She will come to no harm, and offers for her… purchase will be rebuffed assuming you following my instructions herein to the letter. Otherwise I begin to entertain the offers of a number of fiends and wealthy but depraved mortals.
Firstly, I desire to meet with you. Secondly, I have a task that requires completion, and one that I will admit to not wishing to undertake myself. Blackmail is not my ideal method of action, but in this case it suits me nicely. I wish for completion of a certain task by yourself, and others procured into my service in similar fashion. Once completed, you will be sent upon your way. Your sister will be released and unharmed except for some selective memories of her captors faces erased. Otherwise, no harm will come to her.
Again, I urge your discretion. I will meet you, and your soon to be companions at the third room on the left at the top of the stairs at the former location of the Ubiquitous Wayfarer. You will be there, for I doubt that you would wish your sibling to come to harm. She does so admire you, and has whimpered several times that you would rescue her. Such idealistic heroics aside, I offer you a simple and potentially bloodless way to secure that release. The door to the building shall be unlocked. Meet me there at Antipeak, come alone.
– B. Trenevain”
Her fur was bristling rapidly and an involuntary snarl was rising in her throat as she looked up from the scroll at the still smiling face of the tiefling as he sipped at his drink.
“No need for that here, it won’t solve a thing I can assure. Your kind can act pleasant in public yes? That would be good, a scene would not endear you to this establishment, nor to ‘our’ employer, rest assured.” He downed the last of the mug’s contents as Fyrhowl simmered and bottled her anger and worry alike.
“So… what now?” she smoothed her fur back down to normal and gritted her teeth as the fiend-spawn opposite her smiled with that same damnably cheerful innocence.
“Now I walk away, leave you to pick up my tab and you do as your told if you wish for your sister to come to no harm. You would be amazed at the demand for a young celestial such as herself, and who might make such demands.”
He smirked, stood up and walked away from the table with a confident and steadfast stride. If he had anything resembling qualms or conscience, they certainly didn’t show in the least as he walked out the tavern door with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.
Shortly thereafter in the Hive…
(man I wish I had the schmooze of that tiefer...
)
Toras of Andros sat at his desk, away from the thin light that current waxed through the window into his room. The fog and haze of Sigil made that light a sallow, sickly mockery of the light he was used to experiencing upon Ysgard and many of the other planes. As such, he shunned the light and relied upon the abilities granted to him by his own blood-line.
For the past hour he had eaten his breakfast, washed and now sat reading over his daily meditations and holy scriptures of the power whom he served, and who as far as he was aware, was by way of His proxies, his sire. That Toras was a half celestial was certain to most observers, though his unique appearance might have led some less keen observers to ponder deeply just ‘what’ it was that he was descended from. Many might have guessed at some form of Archon, Eladrin, Aasimar or even an Asura. In fact the last two might have gotten the most guesses from those who wished to guess. Guardinal was right out, he simply possessed none of the slightly animal traits that defined the children of such matings, rare as they might be.
To the eyes, Toras stood at nearly 7 feet tall, pushing the limits of what a normal human might reach. His skin was a smooth almost unnatural white, making him seem chiseled from marble like some statue rather than being normal. His hair was long and jet black, and contrasted heavily with his pale skin. Most striking perhaps though were his eyes whose pupils flickered with an inner flame, not unlike those of some fire genasi or tieflings. However there was nothing fiendish or indeed elemental about his being as he sat and prayed, dressed even then in the brushed steel and red lacquered armor of his particular militant branch of the clergy of Andros, self proclaimed protector of children, the innocent, and the infirm.
But several hours passed by, and as he neared to the end of his devotions, there was a knock at the door. Firm but not insistent, practiced but not arrogant. The strength behind them might have been enough to wake him up, had he been asleep, but clearly it was unlikely to come from anything larger than a human.
Toras stood up and walked to the door, pausing only to place his sword to one side, away from the door, but within his own reach should he need it. Sigil had so far been a surprisingly unwelcoming place to those who seemed to not fit in with the local populace.
There was another knock at the door just as he unlocked and opened it. The knocking paused and there was a shifting of feet as the open door revealed a slim, well dressed tiefling standing in the hallway. The man was smiling politely and clothed in a suit that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a master of ceremonies at a banquet hall, or upon a lawyer in a courtroom. Despite his purple colored eyes and small horns curling back over his hair like a ram’s, he seemed a model of courtesy apt to put at ease even the most wary person.
“Toras of Andros? I do apologize sir if I woke you.” The tiefling smiled and his vaguely reptilian tail swished slowly side to side behind his back.
“And you might be?” Toras asked
“A humble servant of greater persons, though my employers have a matter they wish me to discuss with and inform you of. I dare say that you will be most intrigued. If I might sir?” he motioned with an empty hand past Toras into the room.
Toras hesitated then nodded and stepped to the side, walking first back into the room. The door remained open behind the newcomer.
“First of all, I wish to say that my employers have noticed you and your past accomplishments. You have raised their attentions since entering Sigil. To that end I have an offer of employment from them to give you. However first…” he held out a sealed scroll, then lowered it as almost as an afterthought he removed a small gemstone from one jacket pocket of his suit. He handed the gem to the half-celestial with another smile. “This may persuade you into accepting our offer. A sensory stone of a memory, as witnessed by another of my employers functionaries.” Another smile, this time almost with a knowing smirk.
Toras touched the gem and activated the memory in the form of a projected illusion in the palm of his hands. He blinked and swallowed hard involuntary at scene unfolding in his hands.
“Surely you remember your time upon the prime world of Toril a good number of years ago. During that time you fell in love with a young woman and indeed she returned your feelings. Sadly she died, and in such a manner that prevented her return to life by the most common methods. Energy drain… such a way to pass. You honored her memory and have allowed her to enjoy her rest and enjoyment of her promised reward in the beyond as a petitioner upon the upper planes. You’ve neither sought her out in her innocent now form, but allowed her her peace and reward rather than seeking to draw her back into this life and its complications and pains. As I said, you’ve chosen to honor her memory.” The tiefling smirked and raises an eyebrow, craning his neck to see the image floating in Toras’s hands that was now playing and repeating slowly in sequence.
“Sadly the priests of Bane my employer has contracted for this present job have not chosen to honor her in the slightest. No, they prefer to raise her, torture her till death and then repeat the process quite happily. They’ve done so a dozen times or more by this point. I’ve honestly lost count.”
Toras was shaking visibly as he stared down at that scene of torture and the clear enjoyment on the faces of the Banite clergy in the illusory image playing out in his hands from the sensory stone. It was indeed her, and the look upon her face…
“Mother fu*****…”
The tiefling smiled once more, the same polite geniality showing through but tainted with an obscene confidence that belied an enjoyment of his present work.
“Harsh words, but save them for the task my employer wishes to set you upon. The terms are this: read the scroll I have given to you and obey its terms to the letter. If done so to my employer’s satisfaction what you have seen in the gem will cease immediately, and those who carried it out will be killed. That young, and currently suffering woman you still by your reaction hold some feelings for, she will be allowed to rest and return to blissful ignorance upon the planes, wherever that might be. Am I clear?”
Without looking up from the scene looping once again in his hands, Toras spoke with grim and steady tones, his frame rigid and tensed, “Run now, it’ll make it more fun when I catch you.”
The tiefling was already stepping back, “Read the scroll sir and you’ll have a chance to change things. Killing me, were you capable of doing so, won’t stop her suffering. I dare say it’ll prolong it because I hold use to my employer. Enjoy the coming days sir, she won’t.” And with a brief motion with his index finger towards the illusion, he moved out the door in a burst of speed. The footsteps echoed down the hall and then abruptly stopped.
Toras gripped the gem tightly dispelling the harrowing images and bolted after the scum, sword in hand. Out in the hallway there was no one in sight, but a glimmer from a doorframe, two rooms down, spoke of the hallmarks of a just closing portal.
“Fu****…”, Toras cursed numerous times and slowly walked back to his room to sit with barely contained anger. His eyes flared with a need to right a serious wrong. Before it was over he would have that man and his puppet master on the end of his sword.
“Now what in the 9 Hells was this damned employment offer I’m being fu***** blackmailed into doing?” he muttered and spit as he broke the seal on the scroll. It looked like sparkling reddish wax, emblazoned with a wizards sigil shaped like a stylized flame.
“Dear Toras of Andros,”
“I first of all urge discretion in the reading and showing of this scroll. The eventual fate of a certain young woman lies very much on your hands at this point. The clergy of Bane in that particular location she is being held at specifically train torturers and interrogators, and even were I not paying them well they would likely continue with her for some time before moving on to another unwilling victim. If you do not wish for her to be tortured to death and routinely torn unwillingly from her afterlife to return to a mortal hell you will follow my instructions.
Firstly, I desire to meet with you. Secondly, I have a task that requires completion, and one that I will admit to not wishing to undertake myself. Blackmail is not my ideal method of action, but in this case it suits me nicely. I wish for completion of a certain task by yourself, and others procured into my service in similar fashion. Once completed, you will be sent upon your way, and the priests of Bane who hold your former beloved will be silenced and their current charge returned to her ‘eternal reward’ in the upper planes.
Again, I urge your discretion. I will meet you, and your soon to be companions at the third room on the left at the top of the stairs at the former location of the Ubiquitous Wayfarer. You will be there, for I doubt that you can live comfortably with the images that you’ve just been shown by my servant. The door to the building shall be unlocked. Meet me there at Antipeak, come alone.
– B. Trenevain”
“Bloody hell…”, he spat again and whispered a prayer to his deity. A prayer of vengeance to by action and deed see to justice and punishment those who would harm those who did not deserve such. Andros would forgive him allowing such to happen to the girl, but He would not forgive those who made her to suffer, nor would this humble servant of Andros either.
Before then however, these new ‘employers’ would need to be met and sated in the short term. Blind rage and violence, though likely fulfilling, would not bring an end to this.
“Well, Antipeak then it is. I want to see your face, if only to see how it looks before I decide to break it. You deserve that much I swear.”
Hot with anger, Toras stood up and gathered his belongings to leave. After paying for his room and tipping the cook for the morning’s meal which current circumstances now had set to churning in his stomach, he needed time to learn more about the location he was to meet at, and more about his ‘employer’ if possible as well. And so full of simmering, righteous zeal he stalked out of his room.
****
Around the same time in the spireward end of The Lower Ward a silvery blue furred Lupinal was sitting down for her morning breakfast and a drink in the common room of the Green Mill situated in the heart of Little Bytopia as the squat was called by the residents. It wasn’t Elysium, but it was closer to home than most of the city, especially more so than the fiend cluttered, soot choked streets of the rest of the Lower Ward.
She was dressed in little but to make for the local social standards, in this case a white tunic over a thin layer of fine, celestial forged chain and a short chain skirt of the same manufacture. Over the bottom she wore a colored and beaded belt and cloth of a pale ivory color, chased in places with black and silver. Pretty to the eye, but not garish or presumptive as some in the City of Doors seemed to prefer to dress. Tales of warriors in red colored, spiked and bladed armor had filtered to her ears from tales she'd been told in her travels. However she'd seen none of these 'hardheads' yet as the storyteller in Ecstacy had relayed the tale to her nearly a decade ago. She shrugged and chalked it up to an invented or embellished tale on the part of the drunken bard years ago.
Fyrhowl sipped at her thin, sweet ale and smiled. As she pondered the various places within Sigil she had been told to visit, and which to avoid, her ears involuntarily swiveled to the noise of the chair opposite her being moved. Her eyes followed suit as she beheld a smiling, well dressed and genial looking tiefling standing across the table from her.
His hand resting lightly on the top of the only other chair at her table he nodded his head to the spot, “Might I join you for breakfast? If you have a moment for me, those I represent have some information for you that they wish for me to deliver to you? If I’m intruding I can wait elsewhere till it is convenient.”
She blinked and put down her ale. He only smelled faintly of brimstone, unlike most of his kind in the ward, and unlike most of them he seemed to have dressed and presented himself in a way not intended to disturb anyone or seem confrontational. As well, he wasn’t wearing a weapon.
The lupinal nodded and gave a curious smile across her muzzle, “Please, join me. How can I help you?”
The tiefling smiled graciously with practiced ease and took his place across from her and placed a thin, red waxen sealed scroll in the center of the table between the two of them…
“I realize that you are newly arrived to Sigil. However my employers are in need of the services of one such as you. They are apparently well aware of your past services upon the planes on behalf of your celestial race, as well as your own prowess in those endeavors. Coupled with your own nature as a guardinal, they are interested in procuring your help.” He smiled again.
“Oh? Thank you, though I’m surprised they found out where I was so quickly, I’ve been in Sigil less than a day or two already. What do they need me for? I might not need payment from them depending on what they wish.” She looked curiously at the scroll lying before her.
“My employer’s words can probably explain their wishes and needs more clearly than I can. Please read if you would.” Again the tiefling smiled then flagged down one of the servers and ordered a drink of his own.
Fyrhowl broke the odd looking waxen seal, noting the sparkles of glass in the wax and how the symbol upon it seemed to flicker in the morning light like a living tongue of flame. The paper even had the smell of wood smoke to her sensitive nose as she unfurled it to read.
“Dear Fyrhowl of Elysium,”
“I first of all urge discretion in the reading and showing of this scroll. I am well aware of your sister and pack mate, Lightdancer. The last you were aware she was still on Elysium, hoping to venture off plane to follow in your own footsteps. Sadly her travels did not go far before she was taken alive by those in my employ. She is currently being held well, but confined tightly. She will come to no harm, and offers for her… purchase will be rebuffed assuming you following my instructions herein to the letter. Otherwise I begin to entertain the offers of a number of fiends and wealthy but depraved mortals.
Firstly, I desire to meet with you. Secondly, I have a task that requires completion, and one that I will admit to not wishing to undertake myself. Blackmail is not my ideal method of action, but in this case it suits me nicely. I wish for completion of a certain task by yourself, and others procured into my service in similar fashion. Once completed, you will be sent upon your way. Your sister will be released and unharmed except for some selective memories of her captors faces erased. Otherwise, no harm will come to her.
Again, I urge your discretion. I will meet you, and your soon to be companions at the third room on the left at the top of the stairs at the former location of the Ubiquitous Wayfarer. You will be there, for I doubt that you would wish your sibling to come to harm. She does so admire you, and has whimpered several times that you would rescue her. Such idealistic heroics aside, I offer you a simple and potentially bloodless way to secure that release. The door to the building shall be unlocked. Meet me there at Antipeak, come alone.
– B. Trenevain”
Her fur was bristling rapidly and an involuntary snarl was rising in her throat as she looked up from the scroll at the still smiling face of the tiefling as he sipped at his drink.
“No need for that here, it won’t solve a thing I can assure. Your kind can act pleasant in public yes? That would be good, a scene would not endear you to this establishment, nor to ‘our’ employer, rest assured.” He downed the last of the mug’s contents as Fyrhowl simmered and bottled her anger and worry alike.
“So… what now?” she smoothed her fur back down to normal and gritted her teeth as the fiend-spawn opposite her smiled with that same damnably cheerful innocence.
“Now I walk away, leave you to pick up my tab and you do as your told if you wish for your sister to come to no harm. You would be amazed at the demand for a young celestial such as herself, and who might make such demands.”
He smirked, stood up and walked away from the table with a confident and steadfast stride. If he had anything resembling qualms or conscience, they certainly didn’t show in the least as he walked out the tavern door with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.
Shortly thereafter in the Hive…
(man I wish I had the schmooze of that tiefer...
)
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