Staring Chaos In The Eye (Murmur pls)

by **Cassandra Coven** on November 24th, 2010, 3:31 pm

Timestamp: 1st of Fall, 510 AV
Location: Odds and Ends

The season has turned and with it came a host of changes. The leaves have turned orange from their vibrant green, the summer rains have given way to the cool breeze of autumn that gave hints to how cold winter would be. Squirrels have begun stockpiling their holes and boroughs with nuts and bears have added extra helpings on their meals of fish and berries to accumulate fat for the following season's hibernation. For Cassandra, the coming of fall did not bring an increase of appetite nor the sudden desire to hoard food for the winter. It did, however, bring gold to fill her pockets as she received her first pay from working in the Silver Sliver tavern. It was nothing to brag about, and certainly nothing to be proud off after the deductions of having to pay her employer rent for using the tavern as a boarding house, as well as for the clothes provided her she she first started working. All in all, she was left with just a little less than a hundred golden mizas - just enough for her to treat herself to something nice for all the hard work she's poured in serving drinks and cleaning tables in the tavern.

The first day of fall found the dark-haired barmaid walking through the docks and eying the different buildings in hopes of finding a shop that sold clothes and accessories for women. Almost all she's seen so far were residences or taverns, places she had no right or desire walking into, especially the latter since she already worked in one. She was close to giving up and hailing a ravosala to take her to the Merchants Ring when she spotted the a medium sized store at the end of the boulevard. At its front end was a gaudy display window exhibiting all sorts of items, from strangely shaped candelabras, sculptures, paintings, various tools and implements that she could not begin to figure out the purpose, as well as cheap jewelry. 'Odds and Ends', the store's sign said. Cassandra smiled, slightly amused. The name was fitting.

She entered, without hesitation.

The first thing she noticed coming in was that there was some sort of barrier in her way. Cassandra tried to push it with a gloved hand but, to her alarm, it turned out to be a man: large and mean-looking, with an scary weapon at his side. Frowning, he eyed her a moment before stepping aside to let her pass. An apologetic smile from her did not change his features so she left him to his station. Farther in was the store's owner, a rotund woman who introduced herself as Gloria. Naturally, she would help with anything the girl needed, and would she just browse the various goods the store had to offer? Certainly, she would find at least one thing she needed in this store of stores. Of course, she would.

Cassandra smiled warmly at the attention. She rather enjoyed the woman's friendliness. "Do you have anything my size and a place to try them on, please?" she asked. "I can manage from there. Thank you."

Of course they did, certainly. Gloria to a part of the store where women's clothes of various design and make hanged off racks or were folded along shelves. On a counter was even a box of necklaces, rings and earrings made from copper. Thanking the woman once more, Cassandra browsed the goods. A simple white dress caught her eye immediately, sleeveless and strapless. She hunted for a size that she felt would fit her among those available and even found a simple necklace to match.

"Now, where's that dressing room...?" A brief scan of the room revealed it to be just across the aisle. Cassandra made her way there, eager to try on the dress she would gift herself as reward for her first season working in her new home city. She needed something to make herself feel pretty again after toiling in the tavern for almost a whole season now.

Fortunately, the dress fit her perfectly so she didn't need top return to the shelves to look for another size. It hugged her slight form in all the right places without any uncomfortable tightness anywhere. She pirouetted in the middle of the tight dressing room, admiring herself in the mirror. She loved the look. The necklace and new sandals soon followed, and black leather gloves completed her attire. It was a necessity for her to cover the strange red veins at the back of her hands that she could never remove. But she didn't mind. She thought she looked good.

Cassandra's Makeover :

Changing back to her previous clothes, she exited the dressing room to pay for her purchases. Another customer had entered the store while she was fitting, it seemed. He was browsing the wares on the other side of the room, his back turned to her. As she approached Gloria to hand over the items she intended to buy, Cassandra passed a cursory glance at the man, wondering if she had ever served him in the Silver Sliver. It was then he turned and her heart skipped a beat, so captivated as she by his looks. At the same time, the strange milady that had struck her since the unfortunate events in Syliras reared its ugly head. Pain, nauseating and debilitating, coursed its way from her head and sent pinpricks like sharp needles against her spine. It completely caught her by surprise and she tripped, flinging her purchases away as she reflexively extended her arms to balance herself.

Unfortunately, she threw the items at the man.

For Purchase :

by **Murmur** on November 27th, 2010, 4:49 am

A host of changes meant an all new patrolling duty for the young Ebonstryfe, and just when he was beginning to enjoy stalking various individuals in and out of the outer rims of the city, now, at least, he could find contentment in watching and observing the oddballs of Ravok. And in a city under the guidance of Rhysol, it usually wasn’t much of a surprise to find the delusional and diseased huddled up in some damp corner of an alley awaiting a swift and silent death.

Sir Fren, being the notoriously bastard-at-heart that he was (and Murmur had come to appreciate this less than favorable aspect of his), assigned the young Ebonstryfe on patrol through the The Docks for half the season. Murmur had no reason to complain. The Docks always held miscreants of some sort that required prompt measures, and what better way to practice various dagger techniques than on live subjects? The thought made Murmur smile deviously to himself as he walked with an uncanny air of grace through the stagnant streets.

Water lapped at the sides of the docks that lined one portion of the Nitrozian Plaza and the incessant chatter effectively drowned out his own thoughts. Murmur was beginning to regret wearing black leather armor as the day wore on and Syna’s merciless blaze cascaded light across the dull buildings and contrasting ravosalas. If anything, Murmur could appreciate the subtle and dark beauty Ravok held. It was his home, it deserved that much.

Although the Ebonstryfe took his duties quite seriously, he didn’t normally suspect the citizens to be stupid enough to warrant disciplinary action. He suspected they knew of the undercover soldiers who always trained their eyes on those that would deny their respect to Lord Rhysol… but the foreigners… the foreigners were a different matter altogether! And when Murmur’s cool, gray eyes fell on that of a woman who stood out amidst a mass of moving bodies and bobbing heads, he couldn’t help but imagine her to be one such foreigner.

Smiling casually, he navigated his way through the occasionally malodorous bodies until he entered what he could have guessed was a low-quality thrift store, but he was, of course, mistaken. Peculiar and curious items stood on shelves that enticed visitors to look, and although a giant ogre of a man blocked half of the wares on one side of the wall, Murmur simply gave him a passing wave of his hand. He had lost sight of the girl he was trailing, although he was sure she’d been here. “What’s a little harm with perusing?” He murmured softly to himself, a hand extended as he shifted through the aisles to examine the merchandise.

It was only after several chimes did Murmur finally turn to glance about the entirety of the store once more. And there she was! The lady, paused as if transfixed, soon reverted to a look of pain and Murmur had to wonder if someone had precariously struck her before he had a chance to. What a shame-- He began, only to have his thoughts cut short when flying merchandise soared through the gap between them like war missiles aimed at his head. He ducked, but because of this, the items collided with those that were stationed on the shelves behind him and soon an avalanche of trinkets and baubles and knickknacks showered over his head and smashed onto the floor. There was a resounding silence that fell over the store after the initial clatter and utter racket and Murmur, having instinctively raised his hands to deter the incoming merchandise slowly lowered his arms and stood upright, with a glare aimed at Cassandra that betrayed his vehemence.

The ogre man had thundered forward but Murmur had already knocked his arm aside and grasped Cassandra’s wrist so viciously it was possible it would result in bruising.

“Silly girl,” He hissed, “Making a mess in an already shoddy store. Must you show off in front of these kind people?” He jerked her arm as he made his way out the door, dragging her through a maze of grimy buildings until he slammed her back against the wall. There was a moment of silence as the Ebonstryfe inhaled calmly, then smiled to the young woman. “You should be grateful, now you won’t have to pay for the disaster you incited there. Tell me, girl, what is your name? And where are you from.”

by **Cassandra Coven** on December 1st, 2010, 4:55 am

Cassandra, in desperation, managed to catch hold of a nearby rack and saved herself from an embarrassing fall. Her would-be purchases, and the attractive man before her, weren't as lucky however. The man may have ducked the merchandise-turned-projectiles but that didn't save him from the ensuing fall of the other items on the shelf above him when they were hit by Cassandra's purchases. Various items of different makes and sizes rained over his head, some of the more fragile ones breaking upon contact with the hard floor. The commotion turned everyone's attention to the scene, their eyes first gazing at the man before flitting over to Cassandra, the cause of all the ruckus.

Her face turned red, and it was not just from embarrassment. The headache that had struck her so suddenly was growing more pronounced by the minute, bringing tears into her eyes and freezing her into place. She found it hard just staying steady on her feet. Nearby, the large mountain of a man lumbered angrily towards her, prepared to make her pay for all the damaged goods. She glanced guiltily to the floor, eying the items. Each were relatively cheap on their own, but she doubted she could pay for all of them. Not without her spending all of her hard-earned mizas. She looked back up, ready to beg off punishment, to explain to the huge man and to Gloria that it was all an accident. But before she could move, the man, the attractive one, was before her, rage plain on his face. He grabbed her by the arm, hissing his vehemence at her, making her flinch.

And then he was dragging her out the door of the building and through the backstreets of the docks, leaving the mess, the gawking people and, most importantly, the things she wanted to buy back in the store. Cassandra would have protested at the treatment, and the loss of her pretty things, but she had come to realize the predicament she was in when the man slammed her against a wall. She banged her head against it, compounding the pain already there. Dizzily, she gazed up at the man.

He was smiling now, his mood changed for the better it seemed. The beauty of the expression made Cassandra melt inside just a little, but she could sense danger behind it as well, having seen - and used - similar facades before. She concentrated on his lips, their movements, as he formed words with them and asked her a question.

"I - yes...I'm, um, what?" she stammered, finally catching on to what he was saying. "Wh-why do you ask? Please, what happened was an accident. I'm sorry." Cassandra cleared her throat, finally regaining some of her composure as the pain in her head settled to a faint throbbing sensation. "If you find yourself in the Silver Sliver, I would treat you to a free mug of our signature brew as way of apology. I'm really sorry, sir. But, please, I-I have to go."

She knew she had to get away soon, to find a private place for herself before the next symptom of her curse hit her. Retching and gagging from heartburn in the middle of the street would leave bystanders questioning what was wrong with her. Cassandra didn't want anyone chancing on finding out exactly what. She tried to leave, excusing herself, but the man still blocked her way.

by **Murmur** on January 10th, 2011, 2:22 am

That still, stoic smile was plastered on Murmur’s lips, and he welcomed it in such an abrupt and unwelcome confrontation. The girl was in his custody, yet she seemed to be oblivious of who or what he was. Whether this was in his advantage or not he had yet to decide, although from her reaction he could tell her apart as a foreigner from a mile away. Murmur’s judgment had been correct, at least that was certain.

And now she had given herself reason to fully attract his attention, praise Rhysol.

“Are you deaf, love?” He may have sounded patient, but his words held an edge that belied his subtle aggravation. Then he chuckled, “I won’t be able to take such an offer should I not have the name of my generous hostess. You’ve nothing to hide, correct? Why do you fear a name?”

His unusual, gray eyes were scrutinizing Cassandra’s own, and what he could gather were traces of attraction and … pain? It melted into the latter emotion, and read so clearly on her face he had to wonder if there was something distracting her. He chanced a glance behind his shoulder and saw nothing, only the damp wall of the building that cornered them in.

When she attempted to leave, he only pushed her back against the wall, leaning in so close she might have felt his light breath on her jaw. “You will not leave until I get the answers I require, miss. You are so painfully noticeable in this mass of unwashed Ravokian bodies, and I suppose it is common, what with the slave trade being so prominent. But I must admit, your actions lead me to believe you are just up to no good. Where do you come from, and what is your purpose here; answer this and I will let you go.”

In his hand was a dagger.

by **Cassandra Coven** on January 10th, 2011, 4:24 am

Cassandra shied away from naked blade, holding her gloved hands up in supplication and surrender. She had nowhere to run and no one to save her soon enough before the man stabbed her should she scream. Judging from the man's cool facade, she knew he was familiar with the use of his dagger. And used to getting answers from people he interrogated, it seemed. Was he Ebonstryfe, perhaps? Regardless, the man meant business.

"I...Please, don't hurt me," Cassandra whispered as she stared at the keen edge of the blade. She was familiar with how easily such a weapon, despite its size, could end a life. "My name is Cassandra. Cassandra Coven. I'm...I'm an immigrant, originally from Syl...Zeltiva!"

She remembered too late the relationship between the two cities and tried to correct herself but she had already uttered the first syllable of Syliras, Ravok's rival city. She prayed that the man would not take her city of origin against her. To cover up her gaffe, she rambled on, trying to distract the man. "I only came here to shop! Please! You...you can have my coin, just please don't hurt me..."

Cassandra made it look like she thought him a common street thug, a mugger, but the lapse was intentional. In truth, she didn't think the man was one, but she hoped that her ploy would make him act along those lines if he was the greedy type or at least confuse him enough to just let her go.

by **Murmur** on January 29th, 2011, 5:13 am

Murmur was used to dealing with individuals on a dumber scale. Most were homeless, some were blatant criminals that often were immigrants. He sacked them all. He used his blade on most of them. They all screamed in various ways, and they all bled the same.

Because they were all the same.

So Cassandra was just another girl in another alley in another predicament where an Ebonstryfe just so happened to notice her passing, and not just that, she directly affected him in a negative way. Murmur was a man of standards, and if you did not live up to his standards, he would dispose of you. Lucky enough for her, she seemed to be more at ease with talking and pleading for her life than she was spitting at his face or attempting to flee.

His hearing was nearly impeccable as well. He had heard the sliver of the first syllable to the wretched city, and almost instantaneously, Murmur’s blade lifted and pressed itself against her throat, hard enough to cause a thin red line across her flesh. “That was the wrong move. Lying? My dear, you won’t get too far, because from what I’m seeing here, you’re not very good at it.” He made no mention of Syliras but he continued speaking regardless.

Cassandra Coven, oh how he would remember that name.

“That slip up then, how do I know you’re not a spy? A very pathetic excuse for an assassin? A cohort, perhaps, for an underground organization against our Father Rhysol? Don’t you see, Miss Coven, the precautions I must take to ensure the safety of my people?”

The blade trailed along her throat, and settled on her jaw now, small beads of blood forming on the creases of the cuts. “Show me your registration papers.”

by **Cassandra Coven** on January 29th, 2011, 10:05 am

Cassandra could feel the blade's edge keenly as it parted the skin on her neck, she was acutely aware of the droplets of blood the formed from the paper-thin line the man had drawn across her throat. She was treading on dangerous waters and she knew without a doubt that she would be killed without remorse if she so much as angered him. Later on, once she's returned to the Silver Sliver, she would lock herself in the larder of the kitchen and collapse on the floor, sobbing and shivering uncontrollably from the terror of the experience. For now however, she had to find a way out of her predicament. The man was quick; any lie she tried to weave would most likely result in her doom.

"I'm not lying, I'm just a barmaid!" she whispered, dark eyes pleading. His words only confirmed to her that he was part of Black Sun, most likely Ebonstryfe, and her mention of Syliras was what had aroused his suspicions. "I'm really from Zeltiva but we - my mother and I - migrated to Syliras when my father died. I-I left the city when she died too. Here, l-look."

Slowly, Cassandra raised one trembling hand to pull out the golden locket nested at her bosom. It was the only thing she had left from her parents. Clumsily, she opened it. On each side of the interior were the faces of her mother and father, right and left respectively. They were still young in their depictions and Cassandra looked uncannily like her mother.

"My father, Charles Coven, was a scholar, a-a researcher, of the University in Zeltiva," she explained. She doubted the man would know who he was, but her father was a well-traveled man. There was a small chance he had done research in Ravok before with the permission of Black Sun.

Not knowing what else to say in her defense, Cassandra lapsed into silence, only speaking again when the man demanded her papers. The obvious look of confusion in her eyes would clue him to the fact that she had no idea what he was talking about.

"P-p-papers?"

by **Murmur** on February 6th, 2011, 6:29 am

A smile curled itself upon Murmur’s lips. He was enjoying toying with the girl, who seemed so perceptive to his interrogation. She was frightened and he could sense it. And to be honest, he reveled in it. It was something to get a kick out of; to laugh about it with colleagues; to take advantage of. The opportunity was ripe for the taking, and Murmur was ready to pluck it.

“So tell me, love. If you were in the grand haven of Syliras, what made you come to Ravok? Aren’t there rumors circulating the fortress that we are full of heathens and criminals. That we drink the blood of our prisoners, perhaps? I’d fancy some tales.” He glanced at the locket, barely a reaction,;the locket was of no real interest to him, although it could mean a great deal to her, and that was something to consider as well.

“Yes yes, all very fascinating, I’m sure. But this is about you, not your father.” He stifled a roll of his eyes at her response to his question about the papers. Daft and a coward. How fitting. He stepped back, taking out a small black cloth to wipe off the miniscule blood that coated the thin edge of the blade. He said nothing for a moment, because although she clearly had no clue as to what he was asking for, she had mentioned something that suddenly piqued his interest.

“You mentioned you work at the Silver Sliver Tavern, and neither Papa nor Mama has sent for your papers yet?” He knew that Mama and Papa were more than just your typical tavern proprietors. While those who worked for them might believe they were hospitable and kind, most of Ebonstryfe new better. So either this woman was lying or she had recently just begun working there and had not yet been officially inducted to the pub workforce. She seemed far too gullible and cowardly to be just any spy of the Syliran Knights, but such speculation always came with risks. A master actor, or held some sort of magic such as Hypnotism. The possibilities were endless. But at least Murmur knew where to start if she proved to be a spy. The Silver Sliver Tavern he could always recall and ask the proprietors if the one named Cassandra Coven had indeed begun to work there.

Whatever Cassandra’s response, he continued, “Perhaps it might interest you that I am able to get you your registration papers. You see, these papers protect you from the foreign laws of the city. You are protected by the Ebonstryfe, and you will never be enslaved or kidnapped under our rule. Without it, your life is, pardon my Common, petched.” He toyed with his blade as he spoke, “Someone such as yourself will never have the opportunity to cross the threshold of the Vitrax and just grab your papers and go. You need a reference, love. You need someone…. Well, someone such as myself.” He gestured, “I could do this for you, but unless you tell me what benefits I will receive from this selfless act of kindness, I don’t see myself helping you. Oh, and don’t believe you’ll get another opportunity such as this. Anyone other than myself…. And you’d already be dead.” He smiled.

by **Cassandra Coven** on February 7th, 2011, 12:58 pm

The removal of the knife from her neck should have brought Cassandra relief, but instead it only allowed the pain of her gnosis-induced headache to resurface. It was held back before by her terror, so preoccupied was she in trying to give the man satisfactory answers to his demanding questions, but now the mind-numbing pain was back in full force.

"I...I guess they've just been busy minding the tavern," she said of the proprietors of the Silver Sliver, her lips hardly moving as she spoke. It felt as if someone was pinching her brain, sending flashes of agony exploding in her skull. She was fortunate that the alley was shadowed from the closeness of the cramped buildings, otherwise it would have been unbearable not to close her eyes. "I..."

Cassandra paused to grab her head, gloved fingers pressing against her temples and trying to massage away the pain.

"I hope they won't get into trouble because of that," she concluded. Mama and Papa had been nothing but nice to her, giving her a job and providing a roof under her head when she had nothing to her name. Surely the man would understand that a tavern was a busy place, everyone had trouble as it was remembering everyone's orders in a full house - and that was almost always!

But the man - and it was obvious now that he was Ebonstryfe - was offering her a way to get her papers. For a price. And from his tone and the way he leered at her with that malicious smile, Cassandra doubted he was talking about money. He seemed too well off to even bother accepting small bribes. No, he certainly wanted something else. And gullible and naive though Cassandra may be, she knew well enough how the world worked. He was a man in a position of power and she, a woman, and not an ugly one that he would want her to get out of his sight either. She knew exactly what kind of benefits he wanted. The question was, would she do it? With him, a complete stranger she did not even know the name of? And here, in this dark alley?

Surprisingly, Cassandra realized that she would. Certainly, she could think of far more worse things. Like slavery, as the man had mentioned. A few minutes of humiliation for freedom from a lifetime of servitude seemed like a fair trade. And he wasn't bad looking either.

"I could...I could make it worth your while," she started, fighting to keep down the bile that threatened to force its way up her throat. "For the...trouble."

The words came easier now that the man's dagger was gone and she did not have to fear it coming closer to caress her flesh again. Mentally, she prepared herself for the unpleasant business that was to come, reminding herself that she had to do this not just for her own safety, but perhaps for the safety of Mama and Papa, her benefactors. She move closer to the man now, trying her best to look and sound alluring, though it was difficult with the throbbing headache of hers.

"Would you want to..." Cassandra paused to look at her surroundings. The alley was narrow, and definitely dirty. At least there was no one around, for which she was thankful. She did not want to have to let anyone know of the shame she willfully chose to go through.

"Um...h-here?"

by **Murmur** on March 1st, 2011, 6:25 am

Murmur smirked, “You have many things to live up to, Miss Coven.”

Cassandra might have been mistaken. Murmur was never the kind to bribe a woman into bed with him. He knew the attraction some women tended to have to him, and he had plenty of fish to pick in the sea of bodies that traversed the canals and streets of Ravok. He didn’t need Cassandra’s offer, but he also could not help but see an opportunity to instill further fear into her. His smile was boyish and charming as he approached. The prince masked under the guise of a soldier of chaos.

Then he chuckled, “You’re quite the eager one, aren’t you?” He said, then abruptly grabbed Cassandra’s shoulder and slammed her against the rough, dilapidated wall behind her. And he was close, so close, in fact, his chest pressed up against hers, and his lips trailed lightly over her forehead. “Too eager. You’ve done this before, I take it?”

The blade returned; companion to the man that now loomed over Cassandra, gray eyes locked onto hers, and whose smile never left his lips. His hand lowered and spread her legs apart, allowing his knee to enter the cavity now available; to keep them splayed. The dagger wasn’t far from her flesh now, as he trailed it up her thigh and into the inner thigh, dancing dangerously close to her privates. “Let’s spice this up a bit, shall we?” He offered, then the sound of torn clothes followed the trail of the blade. Cassandra’s skirt was ripped, exposing her underwear, and Murmur, being the generous man he was, wasted no second to jerk the dagger up and knick the most sensitive part of her body.

“Know one thing about me, Miss Coven. I don’t take bribes that won’t last me quite some time. Your negotiations need a little more work.” His words were murmured against her soft hair, as his weapon pressed tighter against her. “I will get you your papers, but don’t dare mistake this for an act of charity. I expect compensation, and something that will be worth my time and effort.”

Then he released her. Murmur wiped his blade down and sheathed it in his belt once more. “I will return with your papers. I expect to see you at the Silver Sliver Tavern at dusk.” He then turned to leave.