Home Invasion (Tock)

[Wrenmae]

In the space between moments, time stood on its head and all else slowed to a crawl. More than likely, the situations fired adrenaline through Wrenmae’s body like venom from the fangs of a snake, but to him it was almost as if the world had become very suddenly surreal. Choppy pitched back but a tick, bringing the momentum of its full weight down at Wrenmae’s head. Not the most fantastic observational judge of distance, Wren assumed she had decided on killing him and puffed out his cheeks. The air he blew from his mouth, combined with the threads of res he’d been collecting, at once boomed in a rush of wind that set the wheeled automation back the precious few inches it needed to be in order to miss his head. Choppy bit wood, but the victory was a short lived accomplishment. Agony burned a brand besides Wren’s heart, his attention divided between the narrowly avoided decapitation and the blade piercing his chest. Reaction, pure reaction brought his hands from the floor up against Tock’s breasts, converting both handfuls of Res with desperate instinct. Certainly Wrenmae was no fantastic reimancer. His beginning grasp at the element of air was enough to stagger the woman back, perhaps even remove her from his body, but hardly enough to do more than surprise or bruise. Blind, mad, panic held sovereignty in his mind now, all logic and diplomacy forgotten. He was threatened, he was in danger, he was… Not himself. Shroud blinked, shocked to silence by the flood of memory he now accessed. Tock…what a wonderful woman, more devious and imaginative than he could have imagined. The coward had begged to be set free, she had opted instead to pursue revenge. Despite the blood pooling around the dagger sunk into his flesh, he ran a tongue along his upper lip, wishing he’d been awake for the attempt. His hand went to the dagger as Tock’s no doubt struggled to regain control. It wasn’t deep, a laceration like a hungry mouth pierced through his uniform. He’d need a new one…not so difficult a task. The pain was a fresh reminder of his mortal limitations, of how foolishly he’d allowed Tock to have her will over him. Well…all plans are worth a risk. “Peace.” He snarled, eyes narrowing, teeth grinding in pain, “You’ve upheld your end. Satisfied?”

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Choppy staggered and tugged on his blade, trying to yank it from where it had embedded in the floorboards. It took several pulls before he managed to finally free himself, at which point he stumbled back and bumped into the wall. Meanwhile, if Tock hadn't already stabbed Wren, she would have then, after he copped a feel. She fell back, yanking the dagger free, falling from her perch above Wren into a tangled mess atop his legs. As he thrashed, she rolled off and clumsily struggled to her feet, raising the fist gripping the dagger once more, ready to strike if he continued throwing magic at her. When he called for 'peace,' she lowered her dagger with a growl, then kicked him in the side simply because she needed to vent some of her remaining aggression. She stared down at him, part of her angry, part of her amused, and a much bigger part of her eager for another 'experiment,' wanting to see what it would take to bring the other parts of him out. Though she had no desire to see the pathetic, mewling version of him again. As far as she was concerned, if that part of him wanted, deserved to be in control, well, he'd just have to work for it. She sucked on her teeth in thought for a moment, holding her dagger up and watching the blood drip down it. A few rough coughs racked her, and she wiped her nose on her sleeve when it suddenly felt a bit runny. She didn't pay the least attention to it, however. She was too focused on the specimen before her. "'Ow much ya 'member o' all 'at?" she asked him, curious if he would be as unaware of Wren's actions as Wren had been of his. She crouched nearby, bloody dagger still in hand, peering at him. "'At other side o' ya's a bloody pussy," she said, spitting on the ground. "Though yer a bloody jerk." There was no malice behind the words, merely observation. She considered him a moment longer, sucking on her teeth as she pondered the problem. Then she pointed the bloody dagger at his face and asked, "An' 'ow come yous can jus'..." she shrugged, "let go, an' let 'im out, but 'e can't give me Weaver?" She stared him right in the eye, a wicked smirk touching her lips as she asked, "Can YOU gives me Weaver?" She laughed softly, wondering how much more she could get out of this game. It was a fascinating study, if nothing else.

[Wrenmae]

Shroud hissed softly again, putting a hand to the crimson stain spreading across his uniform. He was no doctor, but the wound was not gushing in a way that suggested he was mortally wounded. It hurt, but little didn't that carried reward in its fetid arms. Slowly, he got to his feet, one hand pressed against the wound. He managed a smirk, using his other hand to wipe away the sweat that locked his brown hair to his forehead.

"I remember everything," he answered, "I can't explain why, but I just do. Maybe it's because my other side fights it so much, but then and again, I am no expert on matters of the mind."

Pulling over a chair from her table, he took a seat, removing his right hand from the wound for a moment, slick with blood, before pressing it again. "Didn't skimp on the violence, did you?" A laugh bubbled up from his chest, shaking his thin frame and sending waves of echoed agony across his torso. He coughed, sighed, and found her eyes again.

"I am who I am and who I have to be to survive. No sense in not taking a little enjoyment out of it all." he sighed, falling back against the chair again and shaking his head, almost as an afterthought.

"Perhaps I could give you Weaver," he mused, looking down at his other hand, flexing it experimentally, "But I won't." That same hand came up, palm forward, as if asking her to cease the expected response before he continued. "He's too unpredictable. Besides, I've never tried to call him before...who's to say whether it would work or not."

Another sigh and a glance at his wound, the seeping edges of crimson darkening the blue fabric. "You wouldn't have some gauze, would you? I still have to walk back to the University, and I'd prefer it happen without me passing out..." Raising his eyes to her, the eyebrow above his right eye quirked, "Unless you're offering me a place to recover for the evening."

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock pulled out a dirty rag and wiped the blood from her dagger on it. Then she sheathed the blade and tossed the dirty rag to Wren, or Shroud, whichever. She didn't keep medical supplies around her house; she was a builder, not a healer. "I ain't offerin' ya nothin'," she said when he asked about a place to stay for the evening. "Cause ya ain't offered me nothin'." As far as she was concerned, she didn't owe him anything. The only agreement had been that in exchange for her chess set, she'd hear him out. In her book that didn't include playing nurse. She just wanted to get the rest of the information, and send him on his way. "Whazza point, bloke?" she asked him, stepping over to Choppy and making sure he was okay. "Whatcha git outta 'is? Sure, I knows jus' 'ow much o' a loon ya is, now..." she shrugged, feeling she had an adequate enough grasp of his particular brand of madness, but not knowing what to do with the information. What was it all for? Why bother to tell her? In fact, considering he seemed to think her merely listening to him was like doing him a favor, he must have been desperate to tell her all this. But why? Not one to go without voicing her thoughts and opinions, she just asked him, "Why's it so 'portant what fer ta tell me 'bout yer crazy side? An' why's yer prissy side so worried 'bout it all?" She didn't give a damn about his problems or his sorrows. Nor did she care one bit about helping fix his apparently shattered mind. She just wanted to know what the game was...

[Wrenmae]

Catching the rag out of the air, the murderer pressed it against his wound without much concern. To her, it might have just been a better way to stem the blood than unreliable fingers. To Shroud, he had no worries of being infected…such things were beneath him now. “I can offer you payment for an automation,” he hazarded, with a shrug, “But I doubt you’re much in need of other services I can provide. You’re far too forward to be interested in much backstreet politics, and with the University so close…I can’t imagine you’re wanting for knowledge.” Kicking his feet up to cross each other, he inspected the ceiling, as if examining it for a thought. “I could teach you Malediction, I suppose…but what would an builder want from building magic from the bones of the fallen?” With a shrug he sat forward, “Curiosity serves you well, girl, but secrets serve me better. I have few to trust in Zeltiva, few who wouldn’t lock me up for showing the casual signs of Overgiving. You’re a voice that can be heard in this city, and I may need your help to protect it when the time comes.”

Was he doing this? Could he really be doing this?

Yes. Yes he could.

“I came to Sunberth hunting someone…someone that poses a threat to all of you, perhaps a group of people. From Sunberth I tracked them to the city and lost them. When I know more, you’ll know more.” A hush of curiosity wove through his words, hypnotic emphasis on the curiosity he was eliciting in his words.

I can trust him to be him.

The thought, in her own voice, echoed in her mind. A brief thought, but bold nonetheless.

“The Waveguard wouldn’t look kindly on my background in Sunberth, and the mages at the college would lock me in an asylum. You’re the right amount of skeptical and honest for me to talk to…but in order to do it, I had to clear the air.” The bleeding had slowed, and he dabbed the wound gingerly, “I don’t expect you to like me. Our collaboration on this is an act of necessity. Any other services besides my share of information is an entirely separate matter. Malediction, other branches of enchantment…I’d trade my secrets for a few of yours.” He smiled, “Animation is an ambitious art to learn. I’d accept a lesson in its practice for a lesson in mine, provided you have any interest in the grisly subject. Otherwise, I feel we may be done here.”

He stood, brushing hair off his forehead and pausing at the door.
“There comes a time when the weak and the ignorant take their cues from the strong and informed. You must be both to make a difference. My short stay in Zeltiva has given me some attatchment to the place. I’d like to save the residents, if I can, from the fate that they do not know to fight.”

He seems sincere. Another thought in her mind, a flash of knowledge.

“With your help, I might be able to eradicate the threat that’s taken me years to track…but to do so you’ll have to listen carefully.”

“At least,” he grinned, gravely, “When the time comes.”

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

She frowned, and the longer he talked, the more her frown deepened. What he was saying didn't make much sense... riddles and half-answers, games she didn't want to play. She didn't do politics, didn't mess around with all this talk of people in power and the masses and other things she couldn't understand. Despite a stray thought that she could trust him, that he seemed sincere, she remained uncertain and confused. Perhaps he seemed sincere, but she just didn't get what it was he was being sincere about. "Look bloke," she said when he finished, waving a hand to dismiss everything he had just said. "I ain't no politicy-type, an' I ain't knows nothin' 'bout no weak people takin' 'eir cues from nobody. Ya got sommat ta say, jus' spit 'er out, aye? Who's ya lookin' fer, some crazy mage what's goin' 'round killin' people o' somethin'?" She hadn't heard of any killings, but she didn't tend to pay attention to such news. In Sunberth, when someone died, there wasn't much point in talking about it... by the end of the week, there'd be a new body turning up, and any curiosity about such things was pointless. "Ya want me ta 'elp ya kill 'is 'threat', o' whatever," she said, planting her hands on her hips, "ya what gots ta tell me what he done did what's so bad, aye? I ain't no law-person. Ain't my business fer ta go 'round 'elpin' 'unt down criminals an' all 'at shyke..." That was the best understanding she could get out of his little speech. That he wanted to recruit her to take someone out.

[Wrenmae]

Pausing at the open door, turned away from her, he smiled. But by the time he had turned to face Tock again, his face was grim…grave.

“Would you take the word of a mage insane himself?” Shroud asked quietly, “If so, consider my warning carefully. Sickness is coming to Zeltiva. It will coil in the blood of the innocent and guilty alike. There is a cause, and I’m researching the details at the University. Wrenmae, my other self, he thinks we came here to cure the division in our mind. I came to learn about an enemy that plagued Sunberth just a few seasons ago. I have reason to believe they have come here.” Sighing, he shrugged, locking eyes with Minerva and implanting a brief thought, there and gone.

He’s frustrated.

“I do not know how many, nor do I know how they cause it, only that they can choose to afflict anyone, even themselves, with illness. I’m researching any magic that might mimic their approach, but I’ve yet to find any solid leads.” A scowl crossed his face, “I wear the uniform of a Waveguard to get closer to the nobles and their highborn servants, and I use the skills I learned in Sunberth to build a rapport with the thugs in the streets. Between both sides, my quarry will reveal itself.” Kneeling, he looked at Choppy straight in what he assumed its face was.

“Guard your mother well, hmm? You have no skin to peel and no blood to rot.” Straightening, he rotated his shoulder, hissing at the pain and numbness spreading from the wound. “I have to get this treated, but keep your eyes for suspicious behavior, especially watch the sick.” Turning again, he opened the door and stepped outside, “Call on me if you need the help, but you’re not the kind to lean on anyone, so I won’t expect word.”

“However…” Shroud tapped his finger against his dagger hilt, a light clang, rhythmic and consistent, “I will need your help when the time comes. I’m not fool enough to think I can stop this alone. Information will be our tool…and our greatest advantage is that I doubt whoever it is knows I’m looking for them…I have yet to be stricken down with illness to date.”

Turning around again, offering a small bow, the Waveguard stepped away from Tock’s home and briskly began strolling back toward base.
Satisfied?

Very.

Spin up some lies, huh?

Some obscurations of the truth, only that.

So. Lies.

If you want to take a moral position on the matter, I won’t stop you.

Maybe I will.

Charming. Do remember that my continued survival is your continued survival.

Something about words, I think. I try not to remember too much.

Story of your life.

Huh, funny, the story of my life coincides with the story of your end.

Don't make me hurt you.

Don't make me make you hurt me to hurt you.

Shut up.

I'm taking this as a victory.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock's eyes narrowed when Shroud mentioned a sickness in Sunberth... it couldn't have been the illness that put her into her coma... could it? That had been four years ago. That illness had been what took her Granddad from her. It had taken everything from her... She was confused. She didn't understand what was going on. Nothing about Wrenmae or Shroud or whoever he was seemed to add up... Learning that there was more than one person in there answered some questions, such as why he had acted so differently in class than he did at the docks. But she still didn't understand why her. Of all the people in Zeltiva, why come to her? She was no hero. She didn't give one damn about bringing some plague-spreading criminal to justice. She would only pursue something like that if it benefited her in some way, or in order to take revenge. But she hadn't yet lost anyone to this disease. So what was there to avenge? She let him leave, shutting the newly reinforced door behind him. He was right, she had no intention of sending word for him. If he had some overdeveloped sense of justice or wanted to solve a mystery or... whatever he was doing, that was his business. She had humored him when her curiosity about his condition was piqued, but other than that, she had no investment in this. She had no reason to help him.

[Cascade]

Adventurer's Loot Wren's Loot : Skill XP Reward Morphing +1 Intelligence +1 Persuasion +1 Brawling +2 Familiary +3 Subterfurge +2 Reimancy +2 Lore: Breaking Down A Door Speaking About The Four Pieces Begging Tock Zan: To Slither And Kill Hypnotizing Tock Wren is such an intricate character, it's always fun to read his threads. And Zan... gah, I love Zan just as much. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me!