Completed [Venue] All Your Base...

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A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

[Venue] All Your Base...

Postby Evarista on September 10th, 2017, 4:32 pm

21st of Autumn, 517 A.V.

Walking into the Docks on foot has never ended well for Evarista. Taking a ravosala to get to the ship to the lakeshore? Sure. Crawling across the rooftops at night? No problem. But taking the street and walking among people? Disaster every time. The dock-dwellers were just not a crowd she was compatible with, and they gave her a run for her money whenever she was forced to interact with them on their own territory. Unfortunately for her, that was exactly what she was going to do. Not by her own will, of course. Her sudden change in status with the Black Sun attracted her father's attention again. The hope of making her into a proper heir was apparently not comletely extinguished in him. So, he decided to once again try involving her in "the proceedings", as he put it.

Creeping along the shoddy walkways with unsteady steps, the girl tried to hide her discomfort, albeit not very successfully. Avoiding the gazes of passerbies, she stared into the ground in front of her, stopping periodically to assess where she was. It felt like judging eyes were staring at her from every alley and every shadow, and that might as well have been true, considering that she and her companion stood out like a pair of sore thumbs. On the other hand, the presense of said companion made her feel a little safer. In fact, he might just be the factor that would make her endeavor at all possible. Father, in his infinite wisdom, had obviously accounted for this. He wouldn't have sent her out here alone.

Out here, where exactly again? All the building looked the same to her. Luckily, her destination gave itself away through a conspicuous sign. A little down the walkway, tightly sandwiched between square brown blocks that passed for buildings on this side of town, was a door with a laconic sign over it: "Tine's". She found what she wanted right away for a change.

While it was perhaps a good idea to pause and recollect what exactly she was supposed to say, Evarista decided to march straight in, before the anxiety started to build up. Clearing her throat quietly, she pushed the door. It didn't give way immediately. Were the hinges rusted? Putting more force into it, she pushed the door again, and it swung open with a loud squeak. The bells attached to the inside rung loudly to announce what they thought was a new customer.

A squeaky voice, much reminding of the rusted hinges, fired of a practiced greeting from inside the shop, even before Evarista's eyes adjusted to the dim interior enough to see the speaker.

"Ahhhh, welcome to my game. Would you like to-"

The short and pudgy man behind the counter, surrounded by a true mountain of junk, stopped mid-sentence when his eyes met with the visitor's.

"...play?"

The plastered grin on his face faded for a moment, but restored just as quickly. Saving his somewhat awkward finish, he opened his arms wide while his eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. His eyes darted analytically between the unfriendly-looking aristocrat and the even more menacing armed figure behind her.

"Why, Rhysol bless you for visiting! What an honor! What could I interest you in? An elegant chalice? A beautiful bracelet? Only the finest for you!"

Tine's tongue continued moving to buy himself some time to assess the situation, and despite his slightly comical looks, he was not a stupid man. It was fairly obvious to him just from their appearance that these two were not here to buy anything. The first thing his gut told him was that this was a lackey and a thug from a higher power intent on shaking him down.

Tine's gut was completely on point.
Last edited by Evarista on December 23rd, 2017, 1:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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[Venue] All Your Base...

Postby Elias Caldera on September 11th, 2017, 1:56 am

Image
She seemed different today, more distant and distracted, and considering she was still sober this evening, that was often reason for concern. As diligent as he was silent, the chaperone was distracted himself in trying to discern the clearly anxious thoughts and worries of his withdrawn charge as he followed in her footsteps. With just her back to go off of however, there wasn’t much he could decipher, and given the last time he’d tried to peer into her aura, that was all he was willing to dare a glance at for the time being.

Perhaps it was fear that gripped the young woman that day. Not of the plaza or its unsavory denizens of course, no, Elias doubted she’d be the type to shy away from the delights such a truly tempting market of satisfaction a place like this could offer. With something new and even more perilous to one’s health being sold around every corner, he imagined overindulgence to be a bigger challenge than it was stomaching the less that tasteful company of reprobates that often frequented Ravok’s red light district. Fortunately for Evararista, Elias was one such reprobate himself. He’d get her to where she needed to go easy enough, and if she wanted a souvenir on the way home, well he’d know just places to visit. Something told the soldier that wasn’t going to be one of her concerns today however.

She definitely was acting differently… Perhaps it was fear after all; the fear of failure. If that was the case, then good, it meant she was accepting her new role instead of shunning like so many of the others that had apparently been unwillingly hoisted unto her shoulders in the past. What kind of role would see her traipsing through the garden of vices however, was still a tad bit unclear to the young stryfer. Her greeting to him this morning had been almost as curt and nonexistent as her explanation of today’s proceedings, something the Caldera was growing more accustomed to, much to his chagrin. It seemed everyone and their kelvic was up in arms about these ‘Inverted’ that had unleashed a storm of fliers upon the unsuspecting heads of Ravok’s citizens some weeks ago. Whether those arms happened to be a dagger or party streamers however, seemed to have divided the holy city in twain. Not everyone was certain these performers from afar had come to do harm, and not everyone was certain they weren’t. Now it seemed even the great families had been pulled into things, Evarista included for all her grumblings.

He was curious to see if the same resolve that now carried her through the streets at such a break neck pace would survive the first encounter with the something she couldn’t simply ignore and wave a dismissing hand at. Elias figured that was why he was here, just in case.

They reached their destination before long, the infamous Tine’s Exotic Goods, a little hovel of a ship tucked away like a poorly kept secret. As with most of the plaza, the scarred swordsman didn’t have the courtesy of admitting he wasn’t wholly unfamiliar with this place. A purveyor of goods quite specific, if not a tad bit illegal, Elias knew Tine’s as the only place in Ravok where a miscreant could get his hands on both a set of lock picks and a trumpet with a single purchase… That, and it sold masks as well. The kind hapless sons bought in their foolish bids to slay their fathers and still keep their patricide a secret from the world.

Well shyke, this has taken an unsurprisingly dark turn.

With a concealed sigh, they arrived at the front door, Eva promptly bouncing off of it in her attempt to gain entry with something resembling a bit of imposing fervor. He moved to offer his assistance, but she was already through with her second go of things, suffering through the shopkeeper’s tired and iconic exordium. Elias ignored it, waiting for the flabby fellow to recognize what kind of fresh hell had just come waltzing into his humble business.

Master Tine.” The stryfer began, recognizing the silence in Eva as his cue to move things along. “Allow me to introduce Mistress Evarista, daughter of Sitanos Nitrozian and blooded heir of house Nitrozian. She comes to you today with an important proposition I advise you to…” He hesitated, noticing the dull bronze glimmer of a trumpet on a nearby shelf. Low and behold, sitting right next to the bloody thing was a thief’s kit… “…pay close heed to.” He half muttered, failing miserably to cap off his grandiose introduction with any of the menace he had intended.

Ah, what a distinct pleasure this is!” proclaimed Tine, clapping his hands together in feigned excitement. “I do so enjoy a good proposition, and the important ones are my favorites, you know.” The short shopkeep stepped out from behind his cluttered counter, revealing his rotten smile as he drew nearer to the unlikely pair. Elias noted a hint of nervousness as he rubbed his leathery hands together, perhaps in defiance of something instinctual that told him to go for his dagger before it was too late, but to the man’s credit, he still managed to hide it well enough.

So, Mistress Evarista of House Nitrozian, bloody whatsit of whatever he just said, what kind of an offer do you have for old Tine today, eh?
Last edited by Elias Caldera on September 12th, 2017, 2:44 am, edited 1 time in total.
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[Venue] All Your Base...

Postby Evarista on September 11th, 2017, 1:21 pm

Thankful that Elias opened the conversation so that she didn't have to, Evarista watched the rotund owner of the establishment roll out from behind the counter to meet them. Clearly on his guard, but not so much that he allowed the momentum of the conversation to slip away from him. It took all of Evarista's willpower to not step back when he came close and assaulted her with a wave of his sickening breath.

Yes, her normal reaction would be not only to step away, but to run away at full speed and not look back. She still couldn't reconcile herself with the fact that she was standing in this filthy dockside den and trying to strike bargains with this disgusting geezer. The only thing that kept her from turning on her heels and fleeing the scene was the gentle yet commanding voice of her father in her head. He couldn't forbid her to fail, but he could forbid her to run away. Which he did, in his usual gentle yet commanding manner. And as usual, he didn't threaten any sort of punishment; it was a mere "request". But Evarista knew to fear the wrath of a patient man, and he has long ago stretched his patience with her far beyond human boundaries. She was afraid of the grimy cut-throats of the docks, but she was afraid of her father far more.

Steeling herself for the inevitable, Evarista stared down at the subject of her visit. Just from looking at his crooked smile full of rotten teeth, she knew that she was not going to be able to fast-talk this shady fellow into anything. He was way out of her league on that front. Even with an armed enforcer at her side, she wouldn't be able to project any force on him when she was basically quaking in her boots herself. So, the only way to proceed was to make herself the master of the situation. There was only one way to do that.

When he approached, she presented her hand for a handshake demurely. He paused for a moment, as if to make sure this wasn't a feint of some sort. It seemed a bit too late for the a greeting handshake, and too early for for a deal-striking one, but if that's how the kooks on the Noble District did their dance, he wouldn't make an issue of it.

"Yes, yes. My pleasure." Grabbing her hand, he shook it vigorously, shaking Evarista's entire body along with it. "Now, then! Give me the lowdown on your wonderful deal, I'm boiling over with anticipation here."

Done with the handshake, Tine attempted to withdraw his hand... but couldn't. Doing a double-take, he pulled again, with more force, but he couldn't free himself from the girl's grasp. Her ice-cold fingers were locked around his hand like a metal vice, securely imprisoning his meaty appendage. Before the startled shopkeeper could react, Evarista opened her mouth for the first time and began talking in her usual low intonation.

"You've chosen an excellent plot to build your warehouse on, mr. Tine."

Tine's eyes darted up to her face, trying to determine what in the bird's name she was getting at. Of course, that was completely impossible. Evarista's extreme pokerface and unblinking stare always put people on edge, and this might just have been the first ever time in her life where this was an advantage rather than a curse. It helped that she was almost a head taller than him, looming over his pudgy form while still holding his hand hostage. Before he could interrupt, she added,

"I would like to lease that plot. On very... generous terms."

The girl's tone didn't change, as if she hasn't gotten to the point yet. But she has.
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[Venue] All Your Base...

Postby Elias Caldera on September 12th, 2017, 4:03 am

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I uh… um, well that is-

The circus is coming to town Mr. Tine, did you know?

The proprietors increasingly anxious mutterings, each one growing less coherent and tolerable than the last, came to an abrupt and appreciable end as his head swiveled around the room to find the source of his second accoster’s voice. Naturally the rest of him was eager to follow, but as his hand was still held firm in the Nitrozian’s death grip, there was little he could do but awkwardly peer over his shoulder. Anything to escape the woman’s relentless glare, it seemed.

Elias, for his part, had managed to wander his way behind the poor sod, distracted as he was by the looming predator before him, Tine had failed to notice the other idly ‘perusing’ his goods until the scarred man cared to reveal himself once more. Something new and not for sale on the shelves caught the Stryfer’s eye before the shop keep had a chance to find his words however, and the mage gestured to the counter he'd slithered from earlier where an orange origami turtle lay on its back, tiny paper legs wiggling in vain as it attempted to right itself under the weight of the discarded stack of papers used to pin it in place. By the look of the bite marks scattered all along its papery prison, it appeared as if the hapless creature had taken to nibbling on the parchment in between bouts of its desperate struggle for freedom. The Ravokian recognized it immediately for what it was, and had to hide his distaste for the Alvadain sorcery at work. It seemed everyone in the city had one of these wretched things following at their heel these days. Everyone but him.

Ah, I see you’re familiar.

Oh, is that what’s that’s about?” Tine guffawed, straining his neck to meet his customer’s icey gaze with newfound resoluteness taking shape in his tone. “Kind of just plopped on my head one day and hasn’t stopped following me around since. With the way it goes about eating all my paperwork, I’d figured I’d just been cursed again by some crabby chaon with a chip on their shoulder. Its happened on occasion before…

Elias nodded, rattled by the man’s persistently aloof attempts to stem the tide of sinister intent being flung his way, but not dissuaded. He knew the fat man’s weakness already, and she was standing right in front of him. “Mistress Evarista here is a fan you see.” The words were poison, lies drenched in arcane devilry than lashed out like a serpent’s fangs at their unknowing victim. With a swiftness like the pox, they took root in an instant, slipping into the mind of their victim and wracking his thoughts with shuddering whispers and unnerving influences that were not his own. Helpless to resist the dark urge now taking hold, Tine slowly and apprehensively began to turn back around. Before he knew it, he was face to face with the deathly gaze of the pale woman once more.

The hypnotist had in truth hoped to use his talents on his ward first and foremost, not just sallow salesman. Not to impede, of course, but to support. An impression of calm and control pressed upon her psyche could have done wonders for her spirits and moral, but before he’d even had a chance to conjure up the first spell, she’d burst through the emporium’s front door and gone in for the kill, rabid and determined in her hunt for the prize close at hand. It impressed him, all things considered, but it also left Elias with only one other means to which his magic might serve her;

Fear.

It was a powerful driving force in the dainty shop that day, one that compelled both hunter and hunted to play their parts out to the end. Unfortunately for Tine, he was not the former.

The short man audibly gulped.

You don’t say…” he murmured after a while, seeming to physically shrink before the impending force of ill will that was the raven haired mistress. “She’s also a woman with a firm grasp of her city’s desires, its wants, its needs. Today those needs call out for a stage, and madam Evarista -ever the patriot in her endeavors to see them satiated- has chosen your humble business to suit those needs. To this end she has earned herself the trust and backing of the Ebonstryfe, not to mention the full weight of her family’s considerable influence. You should consider yourself lucky to be given a chance to play a part in this renowned undertaking.

'Lucky’ is that the word for it?” Tine cocked an exasperated eyebrow, swallowing hard and trying once more to free himself from the pallid grip that held him in place.

Lucky indeed.” The unkempt businessman nearly jumped out of his boots when Elias spoke again, this time the swordsman's voice all too close for his liking after having snuck up on him. Taking his place again as chaperone by his ward’s side, the unfortunately lucky fellow whose name lay scrawled upon the inconspicuous sign out front now faced the duel gazes of the dark duo bearing down upon him in all its wicked fervor.

The mage had a inkling that good sense and reason were forthcoming any moment now, and as it turned out, said good sense and reason was heralded by the sound of nervous chuckling.

Well, anything to do my part for Ravok's finest... Out of curiosity though, How uh, how generous are we talking here, exactly?
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[Venue] All Your Base...

Postby Rohka on September 12th, 2017, 7:45 am

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“Erm, hi. Sorry to interrupt,”

Roh greeted the people before her with a nod and held the door open, unsure of what she’d walked into. A fat man stood holding the hand of a pale woman looming over him, with a scar-faced man right next to her.

She didn’t wait for introductions; she really didn’t need any. “I’m here to buy a crowbar,” she paused for a tick, wondering if she made her intent clear. “That’s all.”

Stupid Grayson and his stupid stairs.

The man saw her arm in a sling with wooden splints that morning as she walked down the steps of the Malt House, and his eyes bulged out of their sockets. She hadn’t seen him until she jumped off the last couple steps like she usually does.

“ROHKA!” Startled, Roh let go of the banister as she spun off, losing her balance for a tick before regaining it quickly. She could tell from the crossed lines in his face that this time would be serious. The young sibyl did her best to listen to his lecturing and to answer all of his incessant questions about what happened before weaselling her way to the door. Grayson sorted through her answers carefully and concluded that it was, in fact, an accident, and that calmed him down. To watch her speak about the ordeal so nonchalantly puzzled him; as if the thing was barely a scratch instead of the godsforsaken fracture that it was. It wasn’t as if the man had never suffered any injuries himself—he’d had a few cuts and bruises to his name; a long gash on his arm from a bar fight long ago, and an old wound on his hip from a run-in with a Stryfe that he barely talks about with anyone… but he’d never broken a bone. Not once. How was she still thinking about doing her job in the state that she was in? Grayson refrained from commenting and helped her with her cloak. She’d thanked him, indifferently, her mind on getting to Tigol’s shop for more candles. She told him where she was going and he ordered her to go to Tine’s for a crowbar.

“It’ll be fixed. Tonight,” he promised.



ImageRohka had barely ever been to the Plaza of Dark Delights, save for the tattoo place she can’t remember the name of, when she was eighteen. The simple black heart of waves was inked into the inside of her wrist on the arm in the sling. She’d never forget the reason she got it; but the purpose of today’s venture into the plaza held no room for reminiscing the joys of certain pains.

Trigon had informed her that he’d ran out of candles last night, since he’d been working on a big gadgeteering project for 3 days straight. He didn't notice her arm whatsoever; his eyes stayed glued to his drawings, with practiced, momentary glaces up to acknowledge his customer. The young sibyl had never heard of ‘gadgeteering’ before, so she’d asked what he’d meant, and he’d simply said that he makes ‘machines’. “Like clocks,” he’d told her, blankly, when her eyes glazed over at his attempt to explain how machines like screws and gears convert forces to do work. She nodded with the recognition of a word she knew and promptly tried to ask him how clocks work when he’d politely asked her to leave him to his business.

Rohka didn’t mind his curt attitude. She respected it and left with a smile and a wave.

The young sibyl now stood at the entrance to the next task on her to-do list, with little Bloop, the paper snake, perched on her shoulder. She wasn’t in a rush. Though judging from the looks on the faces of those inside, the sibyl wouldn’t be surprised if she was shooed out.

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Hi! Rohka honestly just wants to buy a crowbar, but I love making things difficult for her. She’s got no real secrets, and nothing else up her sleeves… yet :D
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[Venue] All Your Base...

Postby Evarista on September 12th, 2017, 7:54 pm

Ever since he realized what the pair wanted, Tine's mind had gotten into overdrive. This whole thing took a rather ugly turn. He expected them to want money, perhaps, but not to yank his own floor from under him. Sure, "generous terms" sounded nice, but he somehow doubted he would walk away a winner if these two had their way. Evarista's overly laconic demand by itself wouldn't have a chance of convincing him to play along. He had to find a way out of this, but... the abnormally strong grip on his hand kept reminding him that there was something unnatural about the loathsome visitors.

The utterly dispassionate glare directed at him from above was a little predatory. Not in a figurative sense, but a very literal sense. And it made him think not of the majestic sort of predators that ruled the animal kingdom, but the grisly and disgusting ones that lived only in the darkest crevices of the world. Only this one wasn't "out there", but walking into his shop in broad daylight wearing a frilly neckerchief... and holding his hand in this very moment. This odd vibration she gave off was very subtle, but Elias' mystical influence pulled it to the forefront of his mind. Intensified it. Inflated it. Exaggerated it.

A fight-or-flight impulse overcame him momentarily, and his hand twitched, about to reach for his dagger almost by instinct. He wanted to be free of her grasp, no matter what, and he did know how to handle a knife. If he could just shank the strange thing in front of him and make a run for it-

"Erm, hi. Sorry to interrupt."

For a moment, everyone's attention was stolen by the voice in the doorway. Some of the thick tension that has been building up in the air dissipated in an instant. This was a shop, after all. Unbeknownst to herself, and perhaps to the other people in the room as well, the woman's impeccable timing might have saved a few lives today.

Without turning her head towards the new arrival, Evarista pulled the proprietor towards the counter and produced an inconspicuous-looking scroll holder from her skirt pocket.

"Let's proceed, mr. Tine. We wouldn't want to keep your customer waiting."

The pudgy proprietor initially didn't budge, fresh beads of sweat still rolling down his forehead. His eyes darted towards that other, decidedly more benign woman, as if silently pleading her to save him somehow. Evarista made eye contact with Elias, tilting her head towards the newcomer meaningfully. Her cold fingers digging deeper into Tine's hand eventually persuaded the poor shopkeeper to follow. He still asked himself what sort of devilry made her so strong.

And, well, there was a little bit of devilry involved. As any experienced athlete knew, human muscle could be packed quite densely. Evarista wasn't an athlete in any sense of the word, but much of her bizarre biological machinery required a lot of strength to operate while also needing to be kept low-key. So, being able to condense muscle to an unnatural degree was a matter of practical utility, though it was the first time she used this in such... social context.

Finally letting go of Tine's long-suffering appendage, the young aristocrat extracted a scroll from the holder and unfurled it on the counter. Her eyes fell on the odd origami turtle munching on paper scraps dangerously close by. Without ceremony, she swatted it off the counter, not bothering to watch it disappear into the pile of junk behind it. She's seen a few of these at the estate recently, but didn't really pay any heed. It seemed like a fashion trend started by some bored bohemian wizard. Zero interest in that.

Meanwhile, Tine peered into the parchment apprehensively while nursing his sore hand. His face quickly contorted into a pained grimace that he didn't attempt to hide. While the contract was "generous" as far as the rent being somewhat above market rates, it didn't compensate for the costs of having to move his business. The contract also contained nothing about having to care for the building itself, which had to mean the bastards were planning to demolish it. He clicked his tongue and grinned bitterly, trying to avoid Evarista's unblinking stare drilling him from above. She was standing uncomfortably close, almost leaning on him as she trapped him against the counter.

"Well, miss... your terms are plenty generous, but I've some bad news for you. This plot, you see... it's not mine. The Larks own it. I'm all for forking over the lease on you, of course, but you'll have to talk to them."

He shrugged with a sheepish expression. He was no expert on family politics, but he knew full well that one family would rather eat dirt than make any concessions to a rival one. Evarista's blunt reply dashed his hopes, however.

"Don't bluff."

Before she was sent here, she was, of course, thoroughly briefed by Olcott. Most of what he said flew over her head, but she remembered him mentioning that the plot was owned by the Lark family until recently, and Tine has been leasing it for some time before they sold it to him. It was natural the he tried to name-drop the Larks, however. The Plaza of Dark Delights was traditionally divided between the Lark and the Galatos spheres of influence, with the other families never able to wedge a single hair in here.

Until now. Construction in Ravok was a clumsy and expensive affair, not often undertaken. So when an opportunity to fund something like this arose, it was natural that everyone was all over it. The Larks, with their messy internal relations and general lack of discipline, were pretty bad at keeping their protégés out of trouble. Someone's done some pretty good intelligence to find this vulnerability on their turf, and it proved to be their downfall this time.

Tine's troubled mug was starting to wear Evarista out. Moving even close to him, to the point that she was basically pushing him against the counter, she pointed a single thin finger at the contract insistently.

"Sign it." Her usual monotone didn't betray her impatience, but her choice of words surely did.

While she hated having her own personal space invaded, invading the personal space of others was no problem. Especially if it meant she could get out of here sooner.
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[Venue] All Your Base...

Postby Elias Caldera on September 15th, 2017, 2:09 am

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All eyes turned to the newcomer, her unexpected and unwelcome entrance tarnished by a near palpable wave of suspicion and irritation. Elias was more annoyed with himself than anything truth be told. His attention had been so focused on the flabby merchant they’d been cajoling, he hadn’t even thought to pay heed elsewhere. That was day one levels of incompetence on his part, and it irked him to no end to think he was still subject to such stupid failings. If any of his instructors from the Vitrax had been here to see, they'd have tanned his hide six ways to Sunday, and he'd have deserved every lash. So shortsighted had the mage been, he hadn’t even considered barring the door and at least making sure no one else had gotten in behind them after they’d first entered. Then again, that would have likely tipped Tine off far too early, and considering how antsy and skittish the poor bastard seemed at the moment, their introductions might have been rudely interrupted with a sudden foot pursuit out the back door instead of a simple signature.

Too late to run now though.

The soldier watched with indifference as the shopkeeper was hauled away by his ward, hand still in tow like a bothersome child about to be scolded out of earshot. He might have almost pitied Tine then, the way he looked so hopeless and riddled with despair. Most of that pathetic distress was being directed initially to the newcomer, the old man no doubt seeking some sort of aid in his hardships from this accidental interloper. The man wasn't quick to give up so cleanly though, Elias had to give him that. Even now he was still trying so damned hard to bargain and bluff his way out of this trouble that had just come barging into his business. It hardly seemed fair really, but then again, Elias had to remind himself this was Ravok. If he had ever expected ‘fair’ in this city, he should have known better.

Speaking of which…

Without hesitation Elias descended upon the woman, Eva’s message received even before she’d turned to him expectantly. He knew this game well enough to know his role in it by heart. Belied by his true intentions, the mage’s casual and almost graceful gait carried him down the aisle with troubling swiftness, one hand stretched lackadaisically to the side as he moved, fingers dancing along the wooden arrangement of shelves and racks adorned with all manner of tools and doodads before eventually coming across his prize among the chaff. When his rugged boots finally came to a halt before her, the scarred swordsman was looming over the minuscule intruder, a freshly swiped crowbar bouncing off his palm like some common Sunberther street thug shaking down his mark. It made him wonder for a moment if people actually regarded him as anything else, with or without the crowbar.

He hefted the thing up between them, dark steel studied in the poor light of the shop as nonchalantly as one would a bottle of wine they’d just been served. “Good for ruining a latch, or thoroughly ruining someone’s day.” He spoke, tone low and overly familiar. Cold eyes turned to the young woman, the thief’s tool set aside as his unabashed scrutiny of her person ensued. She didn’t seem like trouble at first glance, or at least that’s what his better judgement told him. She carried herself like woman who knew her stuff, a whiff of pride and confidence to go along with a pair of dark eyes that whispered a tale of hardships and struggles never endured. Ravokian then, the swordsman concluded before long, but to his discredit, there was little else that initially jumped out at him. Usually, that in of itself was a red flag in his line of work -and in this kind of place- but for the time being, Elias decided to keep his sword sheathed and his temperament in check, though the caste she wore wasn’t making things easy for him. His rambunctiously mistrustful mind was afire with speculation and questions at the sight of it alone. Who knew what manner of weapon or trickery she was keeping stored in that thing!

He eyed the brace, shifting the crowbar to her opposite side with a smirk. “Though, either way, I’m sure they deserve it. Not that it’s any of my business though…" In a place like the Dark Delights, no, it wasn't. "[color]Here, a gift madam. From me to you.[/color]” He handed her the tool, hand twisting in an open palmed gesture once she took it from his grasp. An assuaging “No strings attached” was tacked unto the end as well, just in case she was the kind to fret over such things.

Well now, that's gonna cost someone two gol-” he heard a familiar and hesitant voice utter from behind, but Elias waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder, gaze never leaving the shadowy pools of his latest acquaintance as another bout of hypnotism saw Tine abruptly changing his focus back to his task at hand with a reluctant grumble. It wasn’t the first outburst he’d had to endure out of the shrewd salesman since Eva had lead him away to his fate. Every once in a while, between the crunching sound of parchment and the telltale noise of scribbling upon paper, there would be a “Drat, it seems this pen has up and died on me, I suppose we’ll have to- Oh, look at that, you were right, it does work after all” or a “Goodness me, I can’t see a thing without my spectacles, if you’ll just excuse me while I pop in the back and grab- or not, that’s fine too.” It was clear, despite his relentlessness, Tine’s captor had no intention of letting go till she was good and done with him.

Wiping the annoyance from his expression, Elias shifted his focus back to the stranger at hand, that same overly practiced smile returning alongside it. “If there was nothing else…” He went on, making perhaps too hasty and discourteous a gesture towards the door she’d just come from. Maybe he could have been more tactful, more courteous, more credulous in his candor and care, but the fact of the matter was, he wanted her gone and that much was already obvious. He had a sinking feeling though about this one, a feeling that reminded him some folks just didn’t know when to leave well enough alone, or when to listen to the little voice in their head that said 'this one just wasn't worth it.' Like moths to the flame, they just couldn’t help themselves… Elias knew as much, because he was exactly the same way.


^-^@Rohka: Now how did I know you and I would be writing together sooner rather than later? lol

@Eva: Sorry, didn't have the nerve to guide the story along any further.
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[Venue] All Your Base...

Postby Rohka on September 17th, 2017, 1:45 am


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Rohka knew her feet were glued to the floor the moment she saw the odd woman send a glance over to her scarred companion. She stood like a statue by the wooden door, her free hand gripping the handle she hadn’t released since she’d stepped in. Whether she stood in fear or in fascination was hard to tell, even for herself. Her dark eyes darted between the fat man now being dragged behind the counter and the lean one walking swiftly towards her.

The young sibyl had a fraction of a tick to decide whether she truly needed what she came here for. Her rationality told her to leave; but the rashness of her declaration upon entry was enough to make her stay and follow through. It was hard to keep her breath from quickening, however, as she eyed the bold posture of the stranger sweeping his arm across the shelves, almost expertly picking up the item she’d dared to want.

There was no mistaking the intention of his action. He needed her out of here. Fast.

Roh took a quick look towards what must’ve been the shopkeeper, as she caught the end of the pale woman’s warning, confirming that these people weren’t customers like herself. That was all she could gather before the strange man came to impose over her presence. The sibyl forced a small, benign smile, in an effort to seem courteous in response to his first statement, which she processed slowly, lazily. Her mind was far more fixed on his demeanour; the angular lines of his face complimenting the form of the tool he held in his hand. She studied his steel blue eyes that were now noticing her sling, not caring how he viewed her, but wondering what it was that made him so… eager to make her simple need, his business.

As if he’d read her mind, the man casually excused his assumptions and handed her the piece of metal, declaring it a gift and reassuring her about the emptiness behind the gesture.

The sibyl continued to smile through her nerves. “Thank you,” she said, her tone attempting to match his. She heard the owner begin to announce the price before her new benefactor waved to signal his authority over the matter. Rohka now held the crowbar by her side, the door still held open by the heel of her boot. She wasn’t oblivious to the owner’s occasional remarks and interjections, and had even noticed the glances in her direction—the disguised plea for help made her uncomfortable every time she caught his gaze.

Roh wasn’t the type of person to go out of her way to right a wrong or support the needy. If she was going to do anything, it would be because it serves her aim. Getting the crowbar for Grayson wasn’t to help him; it was for her. She wanted that step fixed. And she has the means now. There was no reason for her to stay anymore.

It didn’t take long for her to decide that she could try to find something else she wanted to buy.

“Mm, I think that’s it,” Roh stated, in answer to the man’s haste. “Although I feel like I’m forgetting something. There was something else on my list y'see, and I’ve been trying to remember it on the way over here,” she said as she scanned the room, looking for an item of interest. She wasn’t lying. Rohka had wanted to expand upon the ways in which she told her fortunes, and had been thinking of ways to do so. “It’s hard to recall through the pain of this thing, though,” she frowned, genuinely distressed over her broken arm. “Y'know, I hadn’t thought about using the crowbar as a weapon until you mentioned it, but you’re right!” Rohka beamed at the stranger briefly, then quickly diverted her gaze back to the shelves behind the counter at which the shopkeeper and the woman stood. The sybil hadn’t even thought about the fact that her rambling self may or may not give the fat man some vague opportunity of escape—she was just talking out of sheer sociability.

“Stupid slave. He just randomly fell onto me yesterday, all 400 pounds of the dumb creature! I swear on Rhysol, if I can’t do my job just as well as I did before, I’ll curse both him and his owners—and I’ll use this!” she held up the crowbar, grinning at it, then chuckled. “Wanna bet that I can—oh!” The scheme was so sudden as she caught the perfect item, the hilarity of the gamble hitting her like a rush of intoxication.

“I remember now!” She turned to the shopkeeper. “Do you have a set o’ dice?”
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[Venue] All Your Base...

Postby Evarista on September 18th, 2017, 7:25 pm

Tine resisted to the very end, squeezing his mind and tongue for all they were worth to delay the inevitable. While he could defeat the cold-faced girl in an equal debate any day of the season, the debate was not equal. The struggle was not fair, the powers in the room were not even. The moment someone in the Nitrozian estate set their mind on his humble little plot, he had already lost. He shouldn't have bought it from the Larks in the first place. But the milk was spilled now, and he eventually signed both sides of the mirror-like document. Oh, how he hated this sort.

Content to have her way, Evarista snatched he pen from him and planted her own signatures next to his, careless movements leaving ugly stains all around her already messy scrawl. She seldom used pens, but at least the ones at the estate were slender and comfortable to hold, while this thick wooden thing barely fit in her hand. Next time she'd go somewhere like this, she'd have to bring a proper writing utensil with her. Yes, while she sincerely hoped there wouldn't be a next time, her intuition told her to curb her optimism in the regard.

While she was merely signing on behalf of the family, seeing her own signature made her very uncomfortable. It had an air of attention-demanding permanence that made her skin crawl. She didn't want to be seen. She didn't want anyone to know that she even existed. People will look at her signature, and think "who's that?". It makes people ask. It makes people wonder. Her signature will be out there, begging questions, demanding to be taken into consideration, creating the illusion that she meant something, drawing her into the damning cesspit of human attention. Throwing the pen to the floor, Evarista shuddered visibly, overcome by disgust.

Before Tine could react to that strange gesture, she shoved her hand into her other skirt pocket and extracted a small, elaborately engraved knife. When unsheathed, it looked a bit like a letter opener, but the sharp edge glimmered menacingly in the dim light, showing that it was not. Pressing the indenture to the counter with her free hand, she dragged it in a zig-zag along the empty space in the middle, creating the indented line that gave these documents their name. With each clumsy movement, the blade made a sickening screech as it sunk through the parchment and sliced against the grain of the wooden surface underneath. Tine stood by silently, the expression on his face looking as if the knife was rending his own flesh.

As soon as Evarista was done carving, she began flailing around herself in search for a blotter. There was no real blotter on the counter, it looked like. The first thing she got her hands on was the origami turtle she had swatted away earlier. Whatever, as long as it worked. Flattening the poor creature against the counter with her palm, she pressed it into the inked parchment briefly before throwing the mangled and soiled turtle away again. Taking the blotted side of the indenture and leaving the other for Tine to do whatever he wanted with, she quickly rolled it up and slid it back into her scroll holder. The paper knife returned to its sheath and then to her pocket. That was it. Nothing else to do here.

Without saying another word and without sparing her pudgy victim another glance, the black-haired aristocrat dashed for the exit. Her movements were a tad too hurried to be called a dignified departure, but dignity was the last thing on her mind. She had to be out of here. As far away as possible. Go straight home. Soak in the bath for two bells, which would maybe be enough to wash off the revolting air of the dockside. Then lock herself in her room and not come out for two days. Yes, that was an excellent plan... well, actually, not only was it excellent, but entirely necessary for her sanity.

When she reached the door, her mind was already home. Judging by the patch of sky she could see through the open doorway beyond him, it was getting dark outside. They were here longer than she thought. Without stopping, she absent-mindedly placed a hand on Elias's shoulder, pushing him out of the way gently so that she could pass. She was thankful to have him along. Walking through the docks alone was bad enough in broad daylight, and her already strained nerves wouldn't handle it in the evening.

Evarista was entirely unprepared to discover another person standing in the doorway. Inhaling sharply in surprise, she could do nothing as her momentum sent her crashing straight forward. Closing her eyes by reflex, she felt her nose connect with something cold and hard. Whether it was the other woman, or the side of the doorway, or something the woman was holding, the blunt impact covered her vision in stars. Bleating weakly and covering her face, she struggled to keep her balance.

As her spatial awareness gradually returned, Evarista recognized the woman in the doorway. Right. She was so focused on other things that she had completely forgotten about the untimely customer. Very untimely indeed. And now her nose was on fire. A nonchalant docker with a crowbar... at least there was no blood on her hands, so probably nothing was broken, but it really gave the impression that the Docks were out to get her. That thought almost put her already painfully strained mood over the edge.

Barely suppressing the rapidly building rage, Evarista let out a hoarse growl and shoved the offender in front of her as hard as she could. Given that she was as strong as a wet noodle, that wouldn't normally be saying much, but the muscles in her arms were still in condensation mode from earlier, resulting in major force that surprised even herself for a moment. There wasn't any time to be impressed with her feat, however. When the doorway was at least clear enough to squeeze through, she did just that.

As soon as she was outside, Evarista immediately broke into a sprint, still holding her nose that throbbed with pain. The only thing that mattered was going as far away from here as her feet could bring her. And staying gone. She never wanted to set foot here ever again.
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[Venue] All Your Base...

Postby Elias Caldera on September 21st, 2017, 1:58 am

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Elias wasn’t a man accustomed to losing control. As far as he was concerned that was the old him, the dead him, the one who accepted such things as the inevitable because he had no choice. When he felt the stumbling knot of anxiety and angst creeping up from behind however, followed ominously by the soft hand on his shoulder nudging him aside, he knew it wouldn’t have mattered which ‘him’ it had been in that faithful moment, for all of them would have shared the same sickening feeling deep down within their collective guts.

It was a feeling that let him know that what was about to happen next was going to be well out of his hands.

For his part, Elias at least managed to catch Eva before she went tumbling backwards, her untrained balance lost after so unceremoniously bouncing off the crowbar she’d run head long into, not to mention the unsuspecting woman who’d been holding it as well. By that point however, it was already too late. The pale girl squirmed free of his feeble attempts to keep her upright, and was on the stranger before the Stryfer had time to blink. “Wha-” Was all he’d accomplished before the Nitrozian had unleashed her almost childlike fury upon the poor lady and had promptly fled the establishment, leaving all three of her victims quite petching perplexed as to what the hell had just happened!

Stunned, the soldier’s lips worked themselves into a tizzy, desperately trying to find the right words to explain what had transpired, perhaps even attempt to ‘fix it’ if he was feeling so bold, but in all honesty, it had taken him by as much surprise as it had Tine and the ill-fated customer who’d made the apparently inexcusable mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Oi!” Snapped a familiar, rodent like accent from behind. Elias turned wearily to see the shop keep pointing an accusatory finger in his direction from behind the counter. “Aren’t you supposed to be Ebonstryfe! You can’t be letting shyke like that go on in my establishment. You’ve gotta-

Shut your damn mouth, you petching weasel!” The words spilled out of him with a venomous hiss, almost like instinct had taken control and moved his tongue before he knew what was happening. It felt like an impulse within him that raged at the thought of being addressed in such a manner, and by such man like Tine of all people. It demanded such nonsense be squashed before its absurdity spread any further, and so the Caldera obeyed, and he did so happily. “The last thing you want for this wretched hovel you call a shop is anymore of the Stryfe’s attention, I assure you.

Tine stiffened, back going rigid as his face contorted itself into an even more obscene scowl than before. “Hey now, I pay my dues boy-

We both know you don’t pay nearly half of what you owe, old man, and if what she said was true about the Larks, then it seems you’ve been holding out on us more than I think you’d care to let on.” Elias shot an angry finger right back at the dubious merchant, exasperated by his sheer gall. “But maybe you’re right, maybe I should get a few of my brothers and come back to make a proper report. While were doing that, in the meantime I’m sure you’d appreciate a thorough inventory of your goods, just to make certain absolutely nothing is amiss in the wake of such a traumatizing incident.” That shut the petcher up right quick, but the mage continued glaring at him none the less, daring the fool to speak on the matter again, and waiting impatiently until Tine’s eyes were forced downwards to escape his own.

Demeaned and humble, as was his place.

And you…

The swordsman spun on the crowbar wielding stranger from before, the one whose odd charm and innocuous babbling about nothing in particular had left the scarred man actually smirking a little in dual parts bemusement and fascination. She’d seemed so enthralled with her reverie it had been almost infectious to say the least. Elias so rarely came across a smile as genuine as hers had been. He doubted she’d still be smiling now though.

His words may have carried over the harshness of tone he’d used on Tine, but when the young man offered his hand to her in hopes she’d accept his help in getting back to her feet, the wrath in both his features and his voice faded almost immediately, as if a switch had been flicked and a new Elias had taken the old’s place. “You must forgive the young mistress,” he pleaded apologetically, “She’s not accustomed to…” His eyes wandered the shop, as if in search of something in particular to help him fill the void his missing words were leaving painfully bare, but instead he simply ended up rolling his eyes, as if trying to encompass anything and everything. It seemed suitably apt.

Once the young woman was vertical again, he would bow, seeking her undeserved forgiveness once more. “My name is Elias Caldera madam, and if there is anything I can do to make amends, you need only say the words and see it done.” Prostrate as he was, it was no surprise to anyone who knew the nefarious bastard for what he truly was to realize that despite all his groveling and excuses, his mind was aflame with his true and dark intentions. He hoped to get her alone, to seize upon her thoughts with his hypnotic influence and corrupt this entire ordeal within her memories until ideally, all she could recall was that she’d taken a stumble all of a sudden, no reason or rhyme behind it whatsoever. That, and she’d found a peculiarly new-found resurgence of devotion to her god and his loyal servants as well, just for good measure. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury of time anymore. Evarista, for all her appearances of being a scrawny little whelp, had managed to race off at such an alarming speed the Ravokian was certain the daft girl was already hopelessly lost amidst the plaza’s many alien distractions. He needed to give chase and guide her back to the safety of her mansion lest he face the judgement of her kinsman he so tirelessly worked to impress.

You need only mention my name at the Vitrax and you’ll find me, I promise.” He continued, feet now slowly backing him away and towards the door. Before he’d managed to reach it however, a gloved hand slapped against one of the shelves with a start, revealing a number of coins left in its startling wake. “See to it this citizen she given whatever she desires!” He barked at the shopkeep, who in turned muttered something under his breath no doubt unrepeatable in pleasant company.

Until then,” He nodded to the curious woman one final time, then disappeared out the door without another word.

Elias had hoped he could have a moment to inspire his ward after they’d left with a few choice words of admiration, like; how power suited her, or how’d she’d been most impressive back there, and how her family would no doubt be proud, then not so subtly suggest they go get a drink as a reward. Now, instead of all that, he was frantically searching for her aura among a churning throng of thousands, dashing through alleyways and across canals in a hasty attempt to catch her before she ran into any more trouble -or crowbars- than she already had.

Oh, this damn girl… The stryfer groaned as he swerved down another street. There was so much potential there waiting to be unlocked it was obvious why the powers to be had taken such a keen interest. Yet, for all her untapped capabilities, there were so many roadblocks that continued to crop up one after the other that Elias wasn’t certain anymore if he, nor ever the Black Sun, could ever truly overcome them all.

There was one thing Elias now knew for certain however. Evarista Nitrozian was going to be the death of someone soon, all her chaperone felt he could do now was to just make sure was that someone wasn’t him.
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