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Terror for the Future

Started by quaggan, June 29, 2018, 01:59:11 PM

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quaggan

 "Well, Doctor, I believe I may have an useful offer for you" the dwarven information broker began. "It was hard to find something, considering your caution and secrecy requirements, but I believe it's promising. A contact of a contact of a con- I get it, I will hurry up - found someone who could support your work. Funds, resources, workshop, overall a pretty good deal. Of course, it would depend on your ability to convince them."

The dwarf handed her a silver disc with a serpent emblazoned on it. "Two streets away, by the Sleeping Hog inn, there is a small carriage waiting. The driver is wearing a hat with a red feather in it. Show it to them, and they'll take you to the place. Sorry for the cloak-and-dagger, but I suppose this is the nature of caution in those times."

***

Meanwhile, a small stag beetle was labouring bravely through the air, buoyed on gusts of wind and desperately flapping his wings. Unlike his brethren, he was black and unassuming, with nothing going for him but his noble goal. The risk of being lost, squashed, or failing to deliver his message, was great and the odds were stacked against him. He was an unsung hero, a miracle, a statistical improbability, an outlier so far on the Gauss curve, he couldn't even see the apex.

Dauntless, he flew on, with his mission wrapped snugly under his wings. The small letter had to make its way to Juniper Whitechalk, trusting in his blind faith that she would find it before making the ultimate decision to squish him.

Charmera

Esna frowned slightly. She wondered briefly if the Dwarf's offer was a trap, but she doubted very much that they would go through so many hoops to get a necromancer. More likely this was one of the more eccentric nobles, the sort who didn't really understand the codes and secret signs the underground used. The sort who didn't understand what she really was, but have a curiosity for the dangerous still. She had met a few nobles who had thought she dabbled in taboo, odd or exotic magic, but really didn't realize that she was a Necromancer.

Perhaps worse were the reverse, who knew exactly what she was and enticed her with a similarly enticing offer, yet really had specific and often quite gruesome or horrible jobs. A couple of times she was commissioned for torture, and other times for revenge fantasies. Sometimes the requests were more sad, like resurecting a love one.

Esna hated those. People don't believe you when you say that their beloved will not be the same. She remembered times when she had left her clients in tears.

However, she was not the picky sort. If it was a trap, she would find a way out. If it was a clueless noble, she would also navigate her way out. And if it was a more foul request she would steel herself and act professionally. It was what she did best, besides science.

She placed a bag of coin for the dwarf and took the disc. "Keep your daughter away from strenuous activity. The wound is still healing." She explained, before turning to leave the dwarf.

***

She managed to find the carriage. She showed the disc and the driver nodded for her to enter. She frowned, then nodded back. Esna proceeded to enter the carriage and sit down.

The journey was uneventful. The sort she preferred in that it was quiet save for the clopping horse-hoofs and the wheels of the carriage. Eventually she was told by the driver that she had arrived, and so she made her way out.

Eckhart_Von_Musel

Deep in the forest, Markus Coldstream drew his bow. The man was a hunter- a particulary skilled one at that. For an entire week he had stalked his target- a magnificant white stag the locals had dubbed "Frosthorn". It had been a challenge, as the beast seemed to have uncannily acute senses- Frosthorn had bolted the last five times Markus had it in his sights. This time, however, was perfect. He was upwind of his target, he had the found the perfect hiding spot, and his view of the creature was clear. The silence in the air was like a thick fog. Muscles tensed in anticipation, the hunter prepared to release his fingers from the drawstring...

"Nope."

A voice from directly behind him caused Markus to yelp in alarm. In a panic he released his fingers, his arrow flying far off-course from it's original target. Frosthorn looked his direction, then ran off in fear. Spinning around, the hunter opened his mouth to yell at whoever had startled him. "What is your-"

Markus froze- the girl in front of him simply wasn't right. It wasn't her appearance that made him feel this way, although her clothes were rather outlandish. Was it her body language? The way she looked at him? Every bone in his body screamed at him to run, but the man found himself unable to move. Head spinning, Markus suddenly realized who this person was. His breathing growing sharp, the man hastily stepped back. "You... you're..." he stammered, fear growing in his chest. "You're from that family, aren't you? What- what is this about?!"

The girl smirked, as if she'd been told a mildly amusing joke. "Nothing really." she said cooly. "I thought it'd be funny. You were so intense, I just couldn't let you have it."

Markus clenched his fists. How was he supposed to process this? "I-I'd been tracking it for days!" he said, voice pleading. "How could-"

"Yeah yeah, I know." the girl said, waving her hand dismissively. "I've been shadowing you since you left town." Seeing the man's frightened reaction, she crossed her arms. "Hey, I graced you with my presence, didn't I? I didn't have to show myself, you know. I could have scared the deer away without you knowing, like I did the last few times. You should feel-"

Markus watched in in fear as a rather large insect landed on the girl's shoulder. Scooping it into the palm of her hand, she delecately removed a small note from under it's wing. Upon reading it, the girl clenched her fist- crushing the messenger beetle. "Ugh, Aunty!" she groaned. "This was my moment!" In a huff, she crumpled the note in her hand. "Whatever, it's no big deal. I'll be right there."

Markus could only watch as the girl walked towards him, body paralyzed in fear. He sputtered something about how she had to leave, but it was no use. The hunter shut his eyes tightly as he felt the girl use his shirt to wipe the beetle guts off of her hand. "There you go." she said, smiling. "My gift to you."

Turning on her heel, the girl disappeared into the forest. A wave of relief washed Markus, and his shoulders relaxed. He looked at the stain she'd left on his shirt, nose wrinkling. "What the fuck just happened?"

quaggan

 Siana had a feeling most people in the world misunderstood the meaning of the word 'trust'. They had the clearly wrong impression that it was extended based on something as fickle, unquantifiable and irresponsible as personal feelings. This sort of trust was worth nothing and signified nothing. The trust she extended to few chosen people was more of a statistical leverage, an assessment of their behaviour and actions and calculating probability. Trust was something too valuable to base it on anything she couldn't prove.

Hysminai was about the only person outside the Whitechalk family Siana actually trusted. The dwarf moved with unparalleled ease among the lower classes and frequently recommended her good recruits that the noblewoman couldn't have heard of. She was capable and reliable - traits that were rare in this world.

So when Hysminai let her knew in deepest secrecy that there is a promising necromancer who could benefit from Whitechalk patronage, Siana decided to treat this situation the same she would anything else. The laws of Serendipity did not concern her - she trusted that she could efficiently leverage her influence and appropriate bribes to get herself out of any suspicion. Not that she intended on being sloppy, that is.

Still, it called for an extra application of caution. Rather than openly accepting the applicant the way she did others, she decided to hold a meeting elsewhere. Hysminai found a location and gave some recommendations, so rather than move there physically and risk being spotted, she used matching portals. One was given to the information broker to set it down in the chosen place, the other she kept with her. At the appointed time, she stood in the shadow and poured salt onto the ground where it fell. The shadow opened up, swallowing it and allowing her passage.

Two mercenaries, a Kulshedra and a scarred elf woman, were already waiting. "His requiem will be sang until the unraveling" the elf spoke immediately.

"As all my dreams are torn asunder" Siana recited back. Hysminai's taste in passphrases left a lot to be desired, but she wouldn't complain until she actually had ground to. The mercenaries relaxed and stepped back. The mage took a seat on a creaky chair behind the desk. At least it had basic amenities.

Someone knocked on the door. Just in time. "Enter" she commanded.

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