Closed The Eyes Have It

[Andar]

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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The Eyes Have It

Postby Royal on December 11th, 2015, 10:34 am

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'In this city, the Nights have Eyes. They watch all of us from the darkness, even in those moments where yer think yer alone. They're there. Watchin'. Waitin'. Petchin' creepy if you ask me.'

'Nah, ain't nothin' but tales to keep kids from misbehavin'. Ain't nothin' but shadows and anyone who says differently is a bloody idiot.'

''ave you seen that old woman with the birds down by the Riverside? Bit shifty if you ask me. She don't look like nothin' threatening, like. But it's a bit odd. What's an old woman got so many birds for?'

'If yer ever want a taste of Pulp, go to the old sparrow surrounded by crows. Whisper a message to her and you'll get your hit in a coupla days time.'

'Why don't I drink anymore? Last time I was blind drunk I went t'Riverside. Complained to some old woman about how my wife always nagged at me. Two bells later, m'wife's throat was slit and her mouth gagged. Whoever done it took m'coin as well. Weird, that. Soberin' experience to say the least.'


♔♔♔

Eyes that watch at Night. Tales to tell children. Drugs, old women, and birds. Such were the stories that surrounded the Night Eyes. Not all the tales made sense, but nobody really questioned it. There was an unspoken rule throughout Sunberth that if you badmouthed the Night Eyes, they would hear it, even if you said the words to yourself as quiet as a prayer at night.

Most feared the shadows, perturbed over what they may reveal. Who stood in the darkness? Who was listening? And most importantly - why? It was the unknown of it all that scared most, and those that claimed they were not intimidated were either liars or dead men walking. For something so secretive and invisible, the influence of the Night Eyes was felt everywhere throughout Sunberth. Sometimes it manifested in the clientele of establishments like the Muted Maiden or Simpering Seacow, or in the neat killing of a person who had overstepped their mark.

Most commonly, though, the single face of the Night Eyes was a plain-looking, innocent-seeming old woman who wandered about the cobbled square that formed the heart of the Riverside. Sometimes she sung songs, quietly and huskily to herself. On other occasions she would stoop down and converse with the silken black birds she kept in cages. They would caw caw caw! back to her, and she would either laugh at their jokes or scold them for their cheek.

Her appearance was too easily overlooked; tussled hair, missing teeth, brown clothes usually flecked with stains. She was by and large the pinnacle of the old in Sunberth: frail, but still somehow still quite intimidating.

Constantly the old woman gripped onto a curious object: a quill. Though the feather had long been battered and torn, she clung onto this prized possession as if it were made out of gold. Those that walked through the square during their daily business almost always seemed to be unaware of her existence. She was far too easy to miss, to ignore. In that sense, she was no different to the coveted Night Eyes: Barely seen, barely heard, but always, always there.

Watching.

Waiting.
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The Eyes Have It

Postby Andar on December 12th, 2015, 9:47 pm

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5th of Winter, 515 AV. Nightfall. Simpering Seacow & Riverside.



Winter already. The season of his birth. The big two. Only a few days away as luck would have it. The Kelvic wondered if he should do anything special. Likely his mother and Jemisa would attempt to surprise him with a party. A faint smile crossed over his face. It seemed impossible that he had lived such a short life. It felt a very long time to him.

"How 'bout another there slugger? A Sunberth Shanty perhaps, or something even better?" One of the Simpering Seacow's waitresses addressed him in a distinctly sultry manner, her tightly clad bottom brushing his hand as it came to rest upon his table. She had dark curly hair. A smattering of freckles around her nose and cheeks, and a scar that clipped her brow to track over her forehead. Andar wondered how she had gotten that scar. He saw that she had attempted to disguise it with some makeup. The thief also wondered if she doubled as a prostitute when the tips didn't cover her rent. "Not this time, Karina," he said with a genuine look of regret. Another drink was indeed tempting. Not to mention her other offer.....But Andar had very specific plans that night.

His frequenting the Simpering Seacow on Riverside had not been by chance. He was there to listen and listen he had. He'd also asked questions, or steered conversations subtly toward the topic of interest. That subject was: The Night Eyes. The proverbial breadcrumbs had led him here. Whether it fact or fiction, he would be a fool not to sniff around. He'd heard it said that the Night Eyes had a base of operations somewhere on Riverside. That meant they had eyes and ears......everywhere. He was nearly certain the patron of the Simpering Seacow, one Trayto Sykkes, an ex-sailor Eypharian with a charming disposition and a knack for playing the guitar, was somehow connected. But his subtle insinuations were not met with knowing winks or quickly hidden smiles. Just bewilderment or disinterest. Of course, that in itself could be a ruse.

Andar parted ways, leaving the open air cafe behind him. Trayto's singing voice and guitar playing drifted away from keen ears. The thief recollected the gossip even as he blended into the surrounding gloom. Nothing very substantial was gleaned. "They've Eyes everywhere, man. In places you least expect it." One gentleman had said. "Night Eyes? Bah! Nothin' but a myth. A fable of the people to help police themselves. If ye go lookin' for 'em you'll find naught but shadows m'friend." A grizzled old lumberjack informed. But he decided one piece of information might be worth looking into. Tales of a batty old woman who kept crows or ravens and who was often seen in the possession of a quill held tightly betwixt wrinkled fingers. Something that odd had to have a grain of truth to it, Andar decided.

The cobblestone road led away from the bisecting river, funneling out to a square where business had died down for the night. Storefronts were boarded up, Closed signs prevalent. Those individuals as still remained, appeared to be either beggars, huddled in corners, shaking cracked pottery with a jingle, or folks simply passing through, intent on where they were going, which was apprently not this place. Andar strolled with no destination in mind, merely observing. Soon he found the mark he was looking for. Toward the heart of the plaza, he could see the very old woman he had heard tale of. She appeared to be pressed against a pen where dark shadows flapped... Andar turned his gait slightly, so that his path would intersect with the old lady. As he neared her, more details came into focus. His sharp ears detected mirth. The woman was speaking to her birds as if they were people.

The Jackal was right on pace, the woman so near that he could smell her. It wasn't exactly a bad odor that wafted to his nostrils. She smelt of bird feed and spices. And now she was turning toward him... What the bloody hell was he doing? He was beginning to have his doubts about the wisdom of making contact with the Night Eyes. Even if they were real, it could very well be a dangerous prospect.
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The Eyes Have It

Postby Royal on December 15th, 2015, 4:58 pm

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"Now, Jack what have I told you about talking back to me? It's terribly rude."

The old woman shook a crooked finger towards a specific cage, in which a velvety black crow watched her with sharp eyes. After a tick or so, the bird cawed loudly in response, and the old woman shook the cage with irritation. "Jack! What did I just say?"

Another moment passed and this time it appeared that the bird had finally listened to her. With a satisfied nod, the old hag continued pottering to either end of the row of cages. She stooped down every so often to engage in casual chitchat with another one of her feathered charges, but it seemed only the infamous Jack was the one to give her any trouble. Each time she passed his cage, the crow would flap his wings and create a racket.

Midway on her third patrol, the woman came to a sudden stop. Few people paid her any attention in the square, but when someone eventually did, she was quick to notice it. The hairs on the back of her neck would stand up and her skin would prickle into goose bumps. Perhaps it was instinct, or something more than that.

Regardless, the old woman turned around to scan the thin crowd before her. Most of the immediate populace were the homeless, or other such individuals who were pleading poverty to strangers. Thankfully none of them pestered the old woman, or her birds. Somehow, everyone knew she was off limits.

But someone else was paying her attention. A peculiar looking male appeared to be heading straight towards her. By the directness of his stride and his piercing amber gaze, she knew that he was not a simple passer-by made curious by an old woman and her crows. No, he was coming for her, and in preparation she readied her quill. Parchment was withdrawn from one of the many pockets in her coat.

"Do you have a message, young man?" She said in a voice oddly youthful and pointed. Something about the way the words had formed on her tongue hinted at formal education, and an upbringing away from Sunberth proper. "If you tell me, I'll write it for you."
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The Eyes Have It

Postby Andar on December 15th, 2015, 8:38 pm

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He had the funny feeling he was being watched. It was no coincidence the organization was called the Night Eyes. Even here, in a seemingly remote place at night, that feeling was palpable. The thief found himself consistently looking over his shoulder and peering into the darkest of shadows. A beggar woman stood when he traveled by, her eyes a bit too curious for just a random destitute person. The Jackal soon came into the presence of the hag and it was fairly obvious she was at the very least, eccentric. At the very most, raving mad.

His acute hearing picked up pieces of the old woman's conversation. She reprimanded one of her birds. She referred to the bird as Jack. Fantastic, he thought. Now all he had to do was ask her flat out if she was in league with a secret organization. Once again, the thief had a strong urge to simply keep on walking. That this entire idea had been a flimsy one at best. With nothing more to go on than an odd old woman in a square - that talked to birds - and a couple of vague rumors.

Just as he was about to turn away, the woman looked at him, her aged eyes sharp as a hawk. Her voice pitched quite differently than before; much younger sounding and eloquent to boot. The urgency in her voice made him stop in his tracks. In her hand, she clutched a quill - just like the rumor said she would - and in the other, a piece of parchment upon which to write. A message, he thought. Right! This was the way he would make contact with the guild. But what was his message?

Andar bowed formally to the old lady. The rogue deliberated on what exactly it was he wanted to say. I know who you are. The Jackal awaits you. No, too mysteriously arrogant. I'm so happy to finally speak to you guys. I've heard a lot about your organization and look forward to our meeting with great anticipation. Nay. Too desperate. Eventually the thief smiled....

"I do. The message is this: You have an ally in the shadows. He humbly awaits your signal." The Kelvic waited. He wasn't sure if he needed to be specific about a meeting place or not. They were professionals after all, it was very likely they would contact him when and where they wished. Still, he was unsure how things should conclude. Would he have to revisit the hag in a few days time for a response? Hoping the old lady might shed some light on the process, he waited for her to finish writing.
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The Eyes Have It

Postby Royal on December 17th, 2015, 9:46 am

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If nothing else, she was a patient woman. Living a long life tended to do that to a person: even the most temperamental and demanding individual could be mollified by eighty of years of pottering through life. The old crow stood watching the young man with a steady, even gaze and her quill hovering in the air, at the ready to strike like a snake.

"An ally in the shadows?" She repeated slowly as she wrote the message down in impressively cursive handwriting. It was one of the more intriguing messages she had heard in her time, most of which centred on some street rat's desire to get high off one or another drug. Still, she wrote the letter and, for good measure, held it up for Andar to inspect.

After this she turned away from the male and opened up the cage belonging to the infamous and annoying Jack. Already the crow was cawing in preparation for his flight, and the old woman scolded him under her breath all the while as she attached the rolled up parchment to his right foot. Eventually she flung the bird into the air, and he instantly opened up his wings and veered sharply to the right in a well-rehearsed and perfectly trained routine. That bird knew where he was going better than anyone else in the city.

Now her attention was back on Andar, and the Crow woman eyed him carefully. Though it was not her place to analyse individuals wanting to contact the Night Eyes, she simply couldn't stop herself. Finally, she proffered a single piece of advice: "If I were you, I would head back to wherever you reside." She said in that bizarrely clipped accent, "walk as normal, but do not linger in any place too long."
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The Eyes Have It

Postby Andar on January 1st, 2016, 9:39 pm

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"That's right. An ally in the shadows," he repeated with a proud raise of his chin. That had to count for something. He cared for the people of Sunberth. Sure he swindled them every day, but overall he cared what happened to the city and its citizens. Of course, he wasn't absolutely sure what the Night Eyes Organization was all about-- yet. But if the stories were all true, they cared too. Before long the woman had the parchment up to his nose for inspection. She was quick! With a pretty hand too, he saw with a brief perusal of the note. "Quite lovely..." he complimented and before the words were even out of his mouth the hag began to rattle cages and make quite a bit of fuss.

The thief watched with more than casual interest as the old woman prepared his message for delivery. He didn't fail to recognize the ongoing feud the old woman shared with one particular crow. The night was a chilly one and it being such, he stuffed his hands in his pockets whilst waiting. His attention roved over the riverside district momentarily, noting the absence of onlookers. Though he could of sworn a beggar woman was not ten feet away when he had first gotten there. Strange. He would have wagered his life's savings she had something to do with all this. Glancing back, he saw the old crone staring at him. Her eyes were just a bit disconcerting. Such a gaze had a way of penetrating him on a deeper level. Like she knew things no person ought to know.

He was strolling down the street once more. The advice the old woman had given him still etched in his thoughts. She told him to go back home and do it nice and calm like so as not to draw attention. Well that was easy enough. No thief worth his stolen loot was looking for unwanted attention. Best to be nondescript. Nobody went looking for ordinary folks. The eye had a way of gliding right over them. That's the way he preferred it.

The hag's final words had also been quite specific that he should not dally in any place for too long. Well, that was for the best. He was tired and it was dark and cold out on the streets. He'd head straight back to the Sunset Quarters just as normal as you like and hole himself inside his apartment until he received word. He hoped it wouldn't be too long. There wasn't overly much to eat in the place.
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The Eyes Have It

Postby Royal on January 11th, 2016, 10:44 am

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Two days later.

They came in the night. Like whispers and shadows, they moved in the dark making barely a sound, almost invisible. There were three of them: a female and two males. The former was clearly in charge, every so often pulling to a stop and giving her companions some silent order. Even their conversations travelled along barely audible breath, messages that appeared to be carried by the shadows themselves.

“What’s he called?”

“Andar.”

“And we’re sure he lives he here?”

“Followed him myself, boss.”


Eventually they came to where they needed to be. Locks were picked, floorboards were stepped on with impressive delicacy. The three positioned themselves in the bedroom. The female stood over the bed like a bad hangover, whilst a rat-faced male positioned himself at the foot of the bed, primed and ready to lunge should their victim try to run. Finally the last of the trio, a man so huge that his stealth and silence was all the more impressive, crouched down at the headboard, his breath warm and heavy. He withdrew a blade, a sharp little knife that had seen several years of bloodshed.

After checking with his leader, who gave him a short nod, the large man placed the flat of the blade on the throat of the sleeping man beside him. The metal was cold, and was held onto the male’s jugular with a knowing technique, but thankfully not too much pressure. As of yet, they were not trying to kill him.

The three Night Eyes waited, silent and lingering, until the coldness of the blade woke the man. Once he stirred, the female spoke in a voice like silk:

“You have an ally in the shadows. He humbly awaits your signal.” After reciting Andar’s own message to them, the woman cracked her porcelain skin into an amused, almost sick, smirk. “Nice. Very smooth, very cryptic. I like it. So your an ally, yes?” She paused, glancing briefly to her two companions. The ratty male wore a smile mirroring her own, whereas the third man, the one who had previously placed his blade at Andar’s throat, now stood up and withdrew the weapon. He backed away, his enormous size once again melting into the darkness of the room. His entire existence appeared to have been swallowed up to nothingness.

“We have a job for you, Andar.” She continued, her dark eyes once again trained upon the Kelvic’s face. “someone hasn’t been paying their dues for our goods, and we want you to take the payment. One of our men is already with him, at Brega’s House. Go there, and you’ll know what to do.”

Her words were equal parts invitation and order. Upon her conclusion, the female nodded to her two companions - or rather, to the shadows into which her largest comrade had disappeared - and began to move out of the room. They were as liquid and silent as before, and they were gone as quickly as they had come.
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The Eyes Have It

Postby Andar on January 13th, 2016, 12:01 am

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After two days of lingering about his apartment, Andar was anxious to leave. The stained wood floor was scattered with wine bottles and other debris that one might use to catelog the Kelvic's life whilst at home. It didn't seem a very productive lifestyle. Even Andar would admit to that. His stomach complained. He hadn't had a decent meal in over twenty-four bells. "Shyke! Night Eyes bah! More like a loony old hag that talks to her crows spreading insanity!" He decided to give it one more night and if nothing out of the ordinary happened to him, he was done with the whole secret organization nonsense.

He dreamt that night that he was running in Jackal form. This was a recurring dream for the Kelvic. The scenery changed, he changed, but always hunted by the same sinister shadow-man. The dreams always ended the same; he came to a dead-end in the street, a rocky cliff, a natural fence of trees in the forest, and always he found the shadow-man there, nearly on top of him and though he tried to see to whom the face belonged, he never could. It was indistinct, like the shadows that wrapped him. Then his dream ended abruptly with him startled awake, breathing hard, heart racing, a cold night sweat damp on his brow.
Though the dream was same, his waking experience was slightly altered and unexpected.

His eyes snapped open and there HE WAS! The shadow-man hovered above him, the cold nip of a blade held to his exposed throat. But something was curiously out of place. The figure before him did not appear to be of like build to the monster in his nightmares. This was a brute of a man and the face though masked in darkness, was not so indistinct that he could not make out a cleft chin and square-jaw. Somewhat disorderly hairstyle and....two others! A woman by the shape of her and the silky tone of voice and a lean leering fellow at the foot of his bed. His pounding heart and wide-eyed expression mellowed significantly as he realized this wasn't the boogeyman from his nightmares, but only some local criminals set on robbing and likely murdering him. That he could deal with.

As things progressed he realized two things. One, the woman was in charge. Her manner and tone of voice brooked no argument from the other two. She was very pale of skin, nearly as white as his bedsheets, though pretty. Two, this was no common house raid for a few spare mizas. These people knew their business. And such a theft as this would be a waste of their talents. It soon became apparent that his visit to the hag on Riverside, the missive, and this night visit were connected. Not a mere coincidence, no. These, he realized, were actual Night Eyes agents! Holy Shyke! They were good, real good. It had actually worked...

The ivory woman in charge recited his message. She went on to compliment him on its cryptic nature which he would have nodded his agreement had a knife's edge not been so near to his neck. "Yes M'lady. That is true. I'm your ally in the shadows," he said with a tone of amusement in his voice. Soon after that the bulky figure retreated into inky insubstantiality and thereby liberated him from that knifepoint dilema.

Andar sat up and scratched the stubble at his jaw, peering at the dark-eyed lady inquisitively. He nodded his tawny head in understanding to the mission guidelines whilst throwing off the blankets and retrieving his shirt from a nearby pile and tugging it over his exposed torso which was lean with some muscularity, but a fair bit bony as well, ribcage protruding noticeably in the moon lit confines.

"Oh right. Brega's place you say? Someone had a tussle and declined to pay for the goods?" he asked whilst slipping on his boots and pulling his cloak into place. His room was truly a frigid place. He wondered sometimes if it was worth the price he paid to live there. Then realized you couldn't get much cheaper as far as places to live went. Well unless walls were not really all that necessary. In which case you were like as not to wake up dead from frostbite or murdered for your nightshirt. Frigid or not, it was decent enough!

"Got it. I'll go there and know exactly what to do...." He echoed with every assurance. "Wait, I will? Know what to do that is,"he asked. But the woman and fellow had already disappeared into the shadows. "Hello? Where the petch did you go?" The Kelvic thief rushed about his room and saw no trace of them. "Bloody hell. They're good. I've got to learn that trick," he said to himself before leaving his room.

Fifteen chimes later the rogue found himself before the three-story bordello in the middle of the night. It was a rowdy place at all hours. With both women and men squealing their pleasure for all to hear. He heard it clearly and not for the first time. Andar had always been curious about whore houses in the city of Sunberth. It was fairly popular pastime in which men would empty out all their hard-earned money for less than ten minutes of relief.

He thought it silly himself. Though of course, he wasn't actually experienced in the art of seduction, being a virgin to the business himself. Still, his mission was clear. He was to help deal with some bloke who had gotten handsy with the merchandise and had not paid his dues. It sounded simple enough. The Kelvic man straightened his shoulders and pulled his hood up. He'd do what he did best.

Pilfer the man's pocket's clean of all but lint.
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The Eyes Have It

Postby Royal on January 27th, 2016, 5:43 pm

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Brega's House of Happy Endings was dubbed the best little whore house in town throughout Sunberth. And indeed, the patrons - and even employees - of the establishment certainly looked… fulfilled, if not a little spent. As soon as someone entered the building, one of the whores would come and drape herself or himself over their shoulders, whispering promises and dirty little secrets. Andar would not escape from this most friendly of welcomes. As soon as he was inside, a busty, copped-skinned young woman approached him.

“You look like you need a good time.” She observed in a lilted accent that hinted at the Southern deserts. She approached the Kelvic, practically naked and lacking in any shyness. Placing her lips to his ear, she cajoled, “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” With that, she swaggered away, hips swaying to a beat only she could hear.

Despite the lateness of the bell, Brega’s was busy. Rough-handed men laughed and flirted in dark corners, while dodgy looking women peered out from behind the shadows. The smell of alcohol and sex lingered in the air, creating a din of heat that, though not inherently unpleasant, was hot and stifling.

Nobody seemed to pay the Kelvic any attention, apart from the odd whore who might wink or touch without invitation. Of course, the Eyes were watching at all times, from the moment he had left his room to now. Their faces were hidden, their bodies also. How would the new recruit act? They had given him no information over who to approach, or who to thieve from.

But this was, after all, a test. It wasn’t meant to be easy.

The secret to the Night Eyes was subtly: their workings did not happen in broad daylight, but behind the curtain, away from prying eyes.

And on the second floor of the whore house, there would be a note tucked away in the corner of the hallway. Amongst the screams of pleasure and begging for more, Andar would receive his first clue:

Feathers.

What exactly this referred to was not disclosed, but if Andar further investigated the whore house he would come across two things: a particularly flexible male whore who introduced himself as Peacock, and a caged crow sitting on the bar in the third floor.

Which would he choose? The whore or the Crow?
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The Eyes Have It

Postby Andar on February 3rd, 2016, 8:11 pm

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It was exactly how he imagined a place that catered to such practices to be-- quite revealing. But to imagine with one's mind was not the same as having one's senses inundated with the ambiance of carnal pleasures. For though the kelvic thought himself a seasoned thief, he was far from experienced in all that life had to offer. This was one avenue he had never thoroughly explored. His keen sense of smell sharpened into focus to all the curious odors: perfumes, body sweat, incense, and traces of other things not quite identifiable. The sounds were a bouquet of shrieks, pants, groans, moans, growls, and purrs to name just a few. All seemed gloriously entertained with the night's proceedings.

Andar stepped lively into the establishment, with a swagger that suggested he was someone on business and not to be trifled with. Or so he had assumed. Instead he was trifled with, accosted, and even outright groped at every turn. One particular coppery-skinned woman seemed desperate for attention. And the attention she sought was plainly not going to be satisfied with mere conversation. She wanted more. And the blatant way in which she verbalized her desires was enough to set the Kelvic to full on blush! Hips swayed and he seemed to trip over the simplest of responses. "Uh....Right then. A show and tell is it? And here I stand, talking to myself...."

His head felt like a hive of buzzing bees. I've got an important mission to keep to. Get your mind right man! The kelvic thief resumed a self-important gait, moving deeper into the bordello where numerous acts of forbidden pleasure were occuring behind closed doors. Well, most of them anyway. Some apparently liked their affections to be advertised in a more open venue. These Andar did his best to avoid as well as the swarm of women.....and men that awaited passersby like vultures for a dying animal.

Andar mentally reviewed his job orders. He was to take payment from a man of whom he had no description. The man, according to the Night Eyes female agent, had not paid his dues. The woman had also made mention of a Night Eyes representative being with the target . Not much to go on. His roving gaze fell over individuals only long enough to make a match. But he had not seen two fellows together as of yet. Plenty of ladies though. And pretty too. He noticed a pair of rather exposed girls wearing masks wander to a stairway and proceed to take the steps at their leisure, giggling and doing quite a bit of touching as they elevated to the bordello's higher reaches. It was very very easy to use his business pursuits as a reason to follow the gorgeous duo upstairs. And that is just what he did.

The thief caught bits and pieces of the exchange taking place betwixt the two angels. And much of it was clearly not verbal.

"...oui...mmm. You are so corrupt."
"I know what I want, and I choose you. Come m'dear. You are invited to my inner sanctum of delights."
"Ohhh ha that tickles. Inner sanctum? That place sounds forbidden."
"Only to those who cannot unlock its secrets....."


Andar was quite interested as well to learn about her 'inner sanctum' when their voices were muffled behind a slab of wood that nearly hit him in the face. As smoothly as he dared, the Kelvic returned to sauntering down the corridor. A most peculiar sight visited the rogue when he turned down a side hallway and came to what appeared to be a lounge of sorts. Within the room, women and men mingled. Many kissed or groped half-clothed partners whilst being attended to by scantily clad servants whose job it was to pour refreshments in a very provocative manner. However, by now Andar was getting quite used to the lack of attire here. The best thing about the whole situation was he finally had found a place he could change between forms and not seem out of place! How fantastic.

He chuckled at that private joke and then promptly coughed when he noticed a man atop the bar with his legs stretched out horizontally. Despite the painful contorting taking place, the man seemed cheerful enough and as usual, somewhat naked. Andar found he was happy for the invention of loin cloths in that particular moment. Between cringes he noticed something truly bizarre. A caged crow also sat on the bar. He blinked. It could not be a coincidence that a crow had somehow found itself within the very bordello he was to perform a job for the Night Eyes. This had to be it!

Hadn't the woman said to expect one of her associates there though? Andar saw other fellows about the room, but none looked particularly conspicuous. Was he to rob this half-naked chap stretched out on the bartop? Was the crow the payment? There were a dozen or so questions filtering through the Kelvic's mind. And no logical answer forthcoming. He decided it was best to mull over the situation with one of their beverages. Perhaps an important clue would spring up shortly whilst he observed the target. Otherwise he would have to haul a caged crow out of the whore house or bar that, find areas where the flexible man might be hiding valuables.

There weren't very many hiding places left to be frank.
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Joined roleplay: February 10th, 2015, 5:12 am
Race: Kelvic
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