Tock's Inquiry

by **Anselm** on September 4th, 2012, 4:19 pm

Tock's Inquiry
03 Fall 512
Marketplace in Zeltiva

OOC :

Empty gray eyes stared unblinking at the gadgeteer from deep within the large burgundy colored hood that covered his head, obscuring most of his face in shadow. His silk robe was also burgundy and flowed gracefully around his feet when he walked. The light blue silk sash around his waist was more for decoration than utility. A touch of peach-scented perfume obscured some of the smell of death that hung about him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to cover. He would have to obtain another body soon. It was for this reason that he was feeling it was time to leave Zeltiva. Taking a new body almost always entailed going somewhere else. People found it disconcerting to run into a dead relative on the street.

Anselm did not usually stay in any one place for very long, although he might return to it after a hundred years or so. As a result of this nearly nomadic lifestyle, the Nuit had few friends. Not that that was unusual for a Nuit. In any case, he had stayed in Zeltiva longer than usual and had developed a number of acquaintances. Nobody he would call a "friend" really. But people whom he knew and who knew him. Minerva Agatha Zipporah was one of those people. She was quirky and had a short attention span, seeming to jump from project to project almost willy-nilly. But she was living life on her own terms and Anselm had to allow a certain grudging respect for that. Besides, he kind of liked her ... as much as he liked anyone.

As always, she got right to the point: "How do I make a Nuit?"

"I have no idea," he said.

OOC :

by **Minerva Agatha Zipporah** on September 5th, 2012, 7:46 pm

Tock growled, narrowing her eyes at him. "Ain't got no patience fer yer damn riddles this time, Fortune Man," she snapped, leaning forward against the table. "Ya always what goes an' gives 'at fancy smart phil-sophical stuff, but I ain't wantin' none o' 'at. Jus' wants me some facts..."

She knew he could be rational at times. When they'd worked on a mystery together, he'd demonstrated he could follow logical processes in order to make a deduction. He'd also revealed to her that he was, in fact, a Nuit.

"Yous a Nuit," she told him, pointing a finger at him. "You's gotta switch bodies every couple o' years," she pointed a second finger at him, "so ya knows 'ow ta does 'at. An' somebody what made ya a Nuit," she pointed a third finger, "so ya knows what 'ey did what fer ta make ya. Even what if'n ya ain't knows all o' it an' 'ow everythin' works, ya knows sommat, aye? So's as ya gotta 'as somethin' what fer ta tell me..."

With all the stress she was under lately, she didn't have the patience for games or getting the runaround. So she crossed her arms and stared him down, despite the futility of getting into a staring contest with a man who didn't blink. She wasn't leaving until she got some information.

by **Anselm** on September 9th, 2012, 6:06 pm

The old Nuit continued to stare at the girl, unmoved by her outburst, while he thought about this. The fact of the matter was that he didn't know how to make a Nuit. At least not in the sense that she meant it. Nonetheless, it was an honest and, it turns out, a timely question. Since he was preparing to leave the city anyway, perhaps he and she could help each other. He was going to need someone's help. Had he been capable of sighing, this is the point at which he would have done so.

“Minerva Agatha Zipporah. Tock. Gadgeteer extraordinaire. I have a little proposition for you.” He fell silent again for what must have seemed like a long time to the girl. The little proposition he had in mind entailed considerable risk for him personally. “I need to acquire a new body,” he continued. “It is a thing not easily done. If you will assist me with the … ah … acquisition, and with the subsequent transfer of my essence from this old body into the new one, you will witness for yourself one of the two ways a Nuit can be made.”

He waited for her response.

by **Minerva Agatha Zipporah** on September 9th, 2012, 6:36 pm

Tock's eyes narrowed when he started quoting her name... How the hell had he learned her real name? Trident Champion or not, wasn't she entitled to any PRIVACY anymore?

She was distracted from those thoughts, however, by his unusual proposition. She sucked on her teeth in thought for a moment. She couldn't say no... witnessing, beyond that participating in this ritual was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

But there were potential complications. She couldn't afford to get caught in dirty business. "Ya need somethin' fresh," she said simply. She had some recent experience attempting to reanimate the dead, and had been giving this a lot of thought. "Body's gots ta been in good shape. No bad cuts o' breaks. Can't be withered from disease. So whatcha done, raid the morgue, o' plannin' a murder?" Either one was fine with her, when it came down to it. She had murdered five people in her life already. One for science, three for being in the way, and one out of love. This would just be another one for science. An educational experience.

And possibly one which she could work to her advantage. As long as she was careful.

by **Anselm** on September 11th, 2012, 3:07 am

She's hooked, he thought. If I play this correctly, I may not have to leave Zeltiva after all. He did not want to leave the city. He was comfortable here. It was the most Nuit-friendly city in Mizahar, Nuit-friendly always being a relative term of course. But in order to stay, he would have to acquire a body of approximately the same size as his current body. And it would have to be a body not known to anyone in Zeltiva. And, of course, it would have to be “fresh”, as Tock put it, and in good working order. By himself he would not have attempted to kill a healthy adult male. But with Tock's help he might be able to pull it off. A plan was forming in him mind.

He spoke slowly and quietly. “A merchant vessel is scheduled to arrive the afternoon of the 6th. Cromster class, with a crew of fifty or so. Once the cargo is unloaded, the crew will head for the taverns and brothels. Among the crew there will likely be some who are about my height and build. Your job would be to get one of them to my house, where I can … ah … relieve him of his body. Can you manage that my dear Tock?”

EDIT :

by **Minerva Agatha Zipporah** on September 11th, 2012, 3:29 am

Tock arched an eyebrow at the proposed plan. It was rather simple... though not without flaws. She had already committed some murders recently, and couldn't take a chance on drawing more attention to herself. So far, there seemed to be no word on the missing Svefra family, but sooner or later, someone would have to realize they'd never made it to their destination. Likewise, a missing crewman from this merchant vessel could lead to some problems if his shipmates came looking for him.

Thinking ahead, her eyes distant as she plotted out what would be her sixth murder, she said, "Ya'd need ta take the new body back down ta the ship after... 'Quit' yer job, aye? 'At way, 'ey ain't come lookin' fer ya. 'En ya jus' disappears 'im nice an' quiet like, nobody done notice..."

She thought about how to lure a man away. One clear possibility came to mind; the way any woman could lure a man someplace. As she considered this she asked, "'Ow's the kill go? Makes a difference what in settin' 'er up, aye? I mean, things what goes diff'rent, dependin' whether yer gonna strangle 'im, o' drown 'im, o'... whatever. So what's the plan once 'e's at yer 'ouse?"

Her mind briefly flashed with the faces of her victims from just over a week ago. The frightened daughter. The angry father. The desperate mother. And the pure, innocent son.

But she shook the memories off. That was in the past. Despite how they might haunt her dreams and turn her stomach into knots, there was no reason for her to keep thinking of them. They were meaningless.

And there was no reason to hesitate about taking another life. It was for science.

by **Anselm** on September 12th, 2012, 9:40 pm

Anselm laid out his plan. “I will wait for you the night of the 6th, outside my cottage. The door will be unlocked. You will get him into the house and keep him distracted for a few minutes with his back to the door. I leave it to you to determine how you will ensure that his attention remains on you. I will sneak in behind him and stab him in the back with a dagger.” He considered his plan for a few moments. “It's simple and direct, with few chances for things to go amiss. Then I will proceed with the process of transferring my soul into his body, which will take about a bell. You may observe.”

OOC :

by **Minerva Agatha Zipporah** on September 14th, 2012, 4:53 am

OOCOkay sounds good. Since Anselm will be waiting at his house, I'll be writing a rather long post building up to the moment she gets the victim through Anselm's door.

Evening of the 6th Day of Autumn, 512

Tock had never done anything quite like this before. The only way she could think to lure a man where she wanted him was the promise of sex. And while she was quite experienced with using her feminine wiles to get a free drink out of a man, she wasn't so sure about how to go about seducing a man. She had only been with one man, and he hadn't stuck around for very long after he got what he wanted. Furthermore, when she HAD seduced that one man, it hadn't been by luring him back to her home, but simply by grabbing him and taking what she wanted.

Taking advantage of a man in the back alley behind a tavern would be easy. But if she did that, he'd likely leave immediately after, rather than following her back to Anselm's house. No... she needed to figure out how to capture a man's interest, and keep it long enough to get him where she wanted him. The mere promise of sex might not be enough; if the man had a room rented right upstairs from the tavern, he might want to go there instead. If she said no, it might either arouse the man's suspicions, or at the very least, make him consider that there might be another girl at the tavern who would be more docile and willing to do as she was told. Some men didn't like it when a woman tried to be in control, but that was what she needed to be. In control.

She also needed to keep a low profile. If Anselm did as she had suggested and took his new body to quit the victim's job, then in theory he wouldn't be listed as 'missing,' and no one would come looking for him. But there were no guarantees. The man she chose might have family in another city, and one day they could come looking for him. If that happened, she couldn't take the risk that witnesses would remember seeing him with the red-haired, fiery-tempered, and relatively well-known Trident Champion.

She would need to disguise herself. Alter her voice and her mannerisms. She had taken a few classes on etiquette and grammar at the Uni, but so far, she hadn't progressed very far. It seemed like she was about to go through her first very under-prepared trial run.

First, in preparation, she made herself up as best she could. She had a small selection of cosmetics, which ironically enough, hadn't been bought for the purpose of seduction, but rather for the last time she had committed a murder. She had disguised her appearance that day as well, but that had been more extreme. She had colored her hair and worn a cap and a hooded cloak to make sure no one could make out any of her features. That extreme of a cover up wouldn't work this time; she needed her face, and other parts of her body, to be in plain view in order to attract a man's attention.

She needed to do something about her hair, though. There simply weren't that many redheads in Zeltiva, and her hair was too strong of a possible giveaway to who she was. So she bought a cotton scarf at the market that she used to wrap her hair up, and used some make-up to darken her eyebrows so the red wouldn't show.

She then slipped on the green dress she had bought when she was planning to seduce Satevis. She had never worn it. It somehow seemed... wrong that she was now using it to lure a man to his doom. Not because of the murder; she felt almost no guilt over that (aside from a cold sense of dread in her gut, that she was trying her best to ignore). No, it wasn't the murder itself that was bothering her, but the fact that she was using the dress that had been meant for a man she cared about, and using it to essentially whore herself out.

As she stood there, adjusting her skirts and making sure she had plenty of cleavage showing, she thought about what this meant for her. She didn't think of herself as the kind of girl to use her body to get what she wanted. She wasn't a whore or a slut, and had barely any sexual experience whatsoever. But this was different. This was to learn something she couldn't experience without bending her already questionable morals.

How far would she go to get the things she wanted? Would she trade her body for her goals? When it came to making her magic city, she knew without hesitation that the answer was yes. She wouldn't give up her body and surrender herself to a man for mere money. She wouldn't sacrifice whatever virtue she had left just to advance her status in the city, to gain an ally, or to get something she could otherwise acquire through her own hard work. But if something were offered to her, something she felt she needed to make her dreams come true, something that she couldn't get any other way... then she'd use her body as currency without hesitation.

She would do anything to get the city from her dreams. She would kill for it. She would sacrifice anything for it. And she would destroy anything that got in her way.

Learning about Nuits was a part of Animation. If she wanted to take her power to the next level, if she wanted to make a place in the world that death couldn't touch, where someone like Mikey could live on in a new, magic body... Then she needed this knowledge. And since there were so few Nuits around, and seeing one change bodies was something that would only come around once every few years, that meant this was a rare, precious opportunity. One she would do anything for.

Including letting some sailor do what he wanted with her body, if that was what it took to lure him in.

Once she was dressed, her hair was covered, and her face painted well enough that she didn't think she looked quite like her normal self, she headed out. She doubted she could fool anyone who actually knew her, but random witnesses offering a description certainly wouldn't be describing Tock the Gadgeteer. She even left her tools and all her babies behind, since they would have been a dead giveaway to her identity.

She headed down to the docks, and searched until she found he specific pier Anselm had told her to search for. She was there a bit early, and had to wait and watch from a safe distance as the ship docked and began unloading its cargo. She grew bored after awhile, and wanted to get this over with... murder always seemed to involve a lot of standing around.

When the crew finally started making their way into the city, she started casually walking in the same direction, keeping a subtle eye on them as they split up into seemingly random groups. No doubt the groups were individual circles of friends, or men that were heading to the same place. She ignored those that wandered off alone; a man heading someplace alone might be off to see a friend, family member, or loved one. She needed people with no strong connections here, and her best chance was with men who seemed to know no one but those in their own group. Besides, if she followed a group instead of an individual, she had a better pool of candidates to choose from.

She noticed some of the men wandering in the direction of East Street. She ignored those; it was likely they were heading off to one of the whore houses there. A man willing to pay for a woman's attention likely wouldn't be willing to follow a girl to her home. She needed a man that was looking for companionship, and not just of the physical kind. A man who wanted a quick petching wouldn't be willing to invest the time and interest a girl needed in order to lure him to her home. He'd just be looking for someone easy enough to give it up at an inn room or in a dark corner somewhere. What she needed instead was a man who would start off buying her a few drinks. One who would socialize for a bit. Then, if she could capture his interest enough, she could lure him off.

As the different men wandered off in various directions, she eventually settled on a group of half a dozen that made their way into a small tavern. They were alp strapping young men who looked to be in their mid to late twenties. The oldest of the group couldn't have been over thirty. They seemed like ideal candidates, since young, healthy bodies would be in the best condition.

She took a breath and followed them inside. Her mind was racing as she tried to plan out how this would go, but frankly, she knew she was going to have to make most of it up as she went along.

She chose a table off to the side, and decided that her best chance was to try and get one of the men to make the first move. She just had to send out signals to lure one in. She leaned forward on the table, propping herself on her elbows, and adjusted the buttons on the front of her dress until she felt like she was about ready to fall out of it. She tried her best to act casual, and just waited for any of the men to look her way. Any time one did, she flashed him a coy smile.

After a bit of time with no more response than some smiles and frequent glances her way, she had to step it up a notch. She started making more sustained eye contact, then trailing her fingers down her neck to play with the plunging neckline of her dress. She finally knew she had caught one of the men's interest when she had his eyes locked on hers, but his gaze then followed the lure of her fingers and his eyes wound up locked on her chest. This would normally have offended her deeply, except that this time it was exactly what she wanted.

When his eyes found hers again she smiled and gave a cute little scrunch of her nose. The man arched an eyebrow. He seemed unsure of himself. But she didn't know what else to do to draw him in. So she decided on the direct approach. She needed to be in charge of the situation anyway. She crooked a finger and made a beckoning motion, which made the man's eyes go wide. No doubt he was surprised at her boldness. But he took a long swift of his drink, perhaps for courage, and came over to her table.

He scratched the back of his head, looking a bit shy and unsure of how to proceed. She almost felt bad that she was luring him to his eventual death. He immediately struck her as a lonely man. Light brown hair, soft eyes, a kind, yet uncertain smile. Probably a man without anyone to be close to, since he sailed from one city to another without end.

It didn't seem fair, to lure him in with the hope of something special, only to rob him of his future.

"Uhhh... hi..." he said, breaking her from her hesitant thoughts.

She smiled, cleared her throat, and concentrated hard on her words. Monty had spent some time teaching her more 'proper' ways to talk. That and her small number of grammar lessons at the Uni would have to suffice. She'd stick with small sentences to keep things easier.

“Good... even-ing,” she said, speaking slowly to try and enun-... enunci-... enci-ate... say the words the right way.

The man smiled awkwardly at her and cleared his throat. “Umm, good evening,” he said, shuffling his feet a bit uncomfortably. She realized she might be about to lose him.

She thought for a moment on the shortest, simplest way to invite him to sit without using the wrong words. Finally she just said, “Sit. Buy me a drink...” The man looked a bit uncertain, but Tock didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t her normal method, but she was worried that she couldn’t fully act like herself, since she didn’t want to be recognized. She thought hard about what another girl might do in this situation. A question occurred to her that she normally never bothered to ask people... “Whatcher name?”

She suppressed a wince as she belatedly realized she hadn’t watched her pron-on-cations, and almost missed the man’s response when he told her, “Calvin.”

He waved the bar maid over and asked Tock, “And yours?”

She opened her mouth, ready to reply with her real name on instinct, before she caught herself. Her mind raced as she realized she couldn’t give her real name and needed to think of a false one. After a moment’s hesitation, she blurted out, “Kyra.” She hadn’t meant to use the name of someone she knew, but the first thing she’d thought of was the girl who she’d once taught how to con free drinks out of a man.

Still trying her best to cover her accent, she asked him, “Tell me... about... yourself...”

* * *

It took a couple of hours and a lot of drinks before they were loosened up and having a good time. Tock kept as quiet as possible, except for laughing at Calvin’s jokes (which didn’t take any acting, since he proved to be a genuinely funny guy), and prompting him for more information here and there. She settled on a couple of simple phrases like, ‘Tell me more,’ and, ‘That’s so inter-est-ing.’ At first she felt like a complete fool, but once she had a few drinks in her, the part she was playing came a bit easier.

But she wasn’t acting when her fingers glided down his arm, her eyes locked on his, and she bit her lower lip in a coy smile.

As the night wore on, Calvin’s friends eventually started to prepare to leave. They called out to him, and he glanced back their way, letting out a hesitant sigh. “Looks like we’re heading out...” he told her.

Tock’s hand found his knee, and she locked her eyes on his and said, “Stay...” She didn’t want him to leave yet. She was having fun. The murder had been all but forgotten. He hesitated for a moment, and she slid her hand further up his leg. “Please?” she asked. He looked at her questioningly, and she gave him a squeeze on the leg and a look. He coughed, his face turning red, and she felt a definite reaction not far from where her hand was positioned.

Without taking his eyes off of her, he told his friends, “I’ll catch up with you guys later...”

* * *

Tock moaned as Calvin pinned her up against a wall, his lips capturing hers in unrestrained lust. His hands roamed her body, and between the drinks, her loneliness, and the simple fact that he was a good guy, she was more than willing to let him have his way with her. The moon was high in the sky, and the street they were standing in was quiet. Private. Schemes and plots were forgotten in a brief, rarely captured moment of passion. She just wanted to take him back home right now and...

“Do you... live near here?” he whispered into her ear. It was then that she remembered the plan. Her eyes snapped open wide and she froze, her hands dropping from his body. She leaned back and looked into his eyes. He looked so innocent. Somehow, in her gut, she knew that if she told him ‘no,’ he’d accept it and be on his way. He’d be disappointed, sure, but she knew he wasn’t the type to try to pressure or force her.

And the sad part was, she wanted it. But she also remembered that his time was short. She was supposed to lure him to his death.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, no doubt worried that he’d pushed things too far. She looked into his eyes, and realized this was the moment of truth. She could send him away right now and save his life. Hell, if she wanted, she could just take him back to her place. Forget the whole murder plan, have her fun with him, and let him ship out tomorrow. She’d had enough to drink to set aside her normal hesitations and follow her raw desires.

But she compared a night of passion (which, frankly, she could get from any other man with just as much ease) to a night of learning the magic behind Nuits. She compared this innocent man’s life to the chance for her to one day achieve immortality.

That made it easy to discard all doubt.

“’Is way...” she told him with a smile, taking his hand and leading him down the street. He continued kissing and putting his hands on her periodically as they made their way not to her house, but to Anselm’s. The touches felt so nice that she almost considered dragging him into an alley and having a quick go at it, then continuing on to Anselm’s afterwards. But she couldn’t take the risk; he might lose interest after he got what he wanted, like all men did.

Instead she kept luring him along with smiles and whispered promises, seductive touches to keep his interest and arousal high. Before long they arrived at the place of Calvin’s doom, and she led him right inside. Uncertain where the Nuit was hiding, she kept kissing Calvin a few moments longer, in order to keep his attention on her and off whatever might be coming up behind him.

Then when she was sure it was the moment of his death, she pulled back and locked her eyes on his. This was for science. This was for knowledge. She needed as much information as possible on the entire process, starting with the moment of his death. So she began channeling Djed through her eyes as she gazed at him, her eyes filled now with a different kind of lust. A lust for blood. A lust for dark knowledge. She wanted to understand life, and in order to do that, she had to understand death.

She wanted to learn what a man’s aura looked like when he died.

Ledger :

by **Anselm** on September 16th, 2012, 7:36 pm

That morning Anselm purchased a vial of black ink and a quill and prepared his house by rolling up the rug that covered most of the floor of the small one-room cottage. He also collected some water and a rag for clean-up. When evening arrived he went outside and hid behind a patch of bushes in deep shadow a short distance from the cottage. There he waited.

Some hours later Tock and a companion appeared. She led him into the cottage and left the door slightly ajar. Anselm followed them in. The man was about Anselm's height and build. Tock was doing a good job of keeping his attention focused on her. In his hand Anselm held a dagger with a narrow, twenty-inch blade. With as much strength as he could muster, using both hands, he plunged it into the man's back at a point he hoped would pierce his heart. The man jerked and cried “Aack!” with an abrupt exhalation of air. He stood still for what seemed like a very long time and then collapsed in a heap on the floor. Anselm put a foot on the man's back and yanked out his dagger. Blood slowly oozed out and began to form a pool on the floor.

“Quickly now,” Anselm said. “Help me get his clothes off.”

OOC :

LEDGER :

by **Minerva Agatha Zipporah** on September 16th, 2012, 10:21 pm

A living man's aura was a constant flux of colors. Vibrant chromatic shifts that fluctuated with each passing moment, each emotion, each thought that passed through a person's mind.

A dead thing normally had but a single color. Gray for stone, greenish brown for wood, a transparent shine for water. Dead things tended to hold a single, steady color, never changing.

When the dagger plunged into the man's back, the pink tinge of arousal in his aura shifted to a shocking black of fear. Streaked through it were a yellowed tinge of confusion and a blanket of white doubt.

A smile twisted on Tock's lips as she watched. This was so much more intriguing than her last murder. She didn't even feel any regret this time. Just a rush of arousal and curiosity.

When the man cried out she cradled his face in her hands and whispered, "Shhhhh..." His aura was slowly fading, the colors melding together like paint stirred in a bowl. He coughed up some blood and it stained his lips red. He looked confused and betrayed, and Tock just didn't care. She felt like she was supposed to say 'I'm sorry.' But she wasn't sorry. He was just a man, just a tool to serve her ends. She had no more reason to regret his passing than that of the fish she ate for dinner.

So instead of apologizing for taking his life, she leaned forward and took his lips with hers. A rush filled her at the taste of his final life's blood on her tongue, and she drank it in, swallowing it even as he coughed up more. Then when he released his last, shuddering breath, she inhaled sharply, sucking his final breath inside of her.

She closed her eyes for a moment, holding Calvin's last breath inside of her as the final warm drops of his blood pooled on her tongue. Then she opened her eyes and crouched down, studying him intently as his aura slowly faded into a muddled reddish-grey. Red like blood mixed with the black of fear and the white of doubt. The color of death.

She finally let out a long, slow, shuddering breath. Her body trembled with an excitement almost like sex. This death had been invigorating. Peaceful. No fight, no cries for help, no fear that she would fail or get caught. This was how death should be. Not the ragged mess of her last murder. Calm. Controlled. Scientific.

She realized in that moment that she could control death, just as she controlled life when she created it in her Automatons. She could become a master of life and death.

When Anselm spoke she didn't even look up. "Give it a minute," she said, nodding to the 'it' on the floor. "It's not quite empty yet..." The aura's colors were still settling, like liquid stirred in a glass, slowly turning until it settled again and became still. The tips of her fingers and a bit of her face started to grow numb, mild sensory depravation from the extended Djed use. When her tongue traced across her lips to take in the rest of Calvin's blood, her taste was fading slightly. But she didn't want to cut the flow until she saw the aura stabilize, and she knew Calvin was really, truly gone.

OOC :