Criminals and Cakes! (open)

[Anonymous]

"All right, everyone! I'm so very happy to see that you all made it to my little gathering. I know this is supposed to be a formal meeting, but feel free to kick back and enjoy yourselves. I've been in this business for many years, and one of the most important things I've learned is that a happy mercenary is an effective mercenary!"

The older gentleman lowered himself into his seat, looking out at the mercenaries sitting before him with an almost disturbingly cheerful smile on his face. Compared to the other men in the tavern, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Whereas most of the patrons were dressed in shoddy clothing and smelled of sweat and alcohol, he wore a fancy blue robe befitting a nobleman, and his face and hair were in excellent condition, showing that he bathed regularly. The fact that such a man would be in Zantaric, let alone hanging around with the dregs of society in an unsavory tavern, was nothing short of astounding, and was certainly cause for suspicion.

He folded his hands on his lap, looking over the men that had gathered for the assignment. Most of them were familiar faces, but there were a few new ones among the crowd. There were a few older men among them, but most were impoverished young thieves who lived on the streets, willing to do anything to find their next meal. Most would have been saddened that so many youths had to resort to crime to support themselves, but he was glad to see that they were involved in the business. He needed desperate men to carry out his missions, and being a man of wealth and prestige, he was more than willing to compensate them generously for their assistance. There was much work that needed to be done, and he was not the type to stoop to such despicable behavior himself.

Raising his hand into the air, he snapped his fingers. The door at the back of the tavern opened and several young maids strutted out, each carrying two frosted cakes, a delicacy usually reserved for the upper class. As they poured into the tavern, a group of men came out behind them, carrying kegs of beer. Most of the cakes and kegs were given to his table, and the rest were passed out to the other occupants of the tavern. Needless to say, this was met with loud cheers from the patrons. Such generosity was practically unheard of in the seedy town of Zantaric. Most of the men would have undoubtedly been highly suspicious of such gifts, so the fact that they welcomed them without question showed that they were familiar with the old gentleman.

"Nobody can be happy without a full stomach, am I right?" he called out over the cheers. "Consider this a gift from me to you! Even those of you who aren't interested in my venture, feel free to enjoy your night at my expense! If my generosity has piqued your interest, come on over to my table!"

Many of the patrons took him up on his offer, quickly flocking over to the table. "I know you're all interested in the job, but I'd like to begin with some pleasant conversation! As corny as this sounds, I consider each and every one of you a close friend. I want to make sure that you're all doing well."  He smiled, pointing a fork at a large man sitting at the other end of the table. "Samuelson! I remember you mentioning you were interested in a pretty young lass. How's that going?"

"Raped and killed her!" Samuelson replied bluntly, looking up from his cake with a big grin that rivaled that of the gentleman. "Thanks fer askin', Lord Ouranos!"

"How deliciously evil!" Ouranos laughed heartily. "That's what I always liked about you, my friend - you're a real go-getter! So you decided to... go get her! Ha-ha!" The entire table roared with laughter. "But yes, that was a joke. Although I still respect you! That part was serious."  He turned to face the rest of the table. "You should all keep in practice like Samuelson! The last thing you want in this business is to go soft. Push an old woman down a flight of stairs for kicks and giggles! Tell a woman that her husband was killed in battle, then laugh as she and the little ones break down sobbing! It's important to keep yourselves in the right mindset."

The men simply nodded in agreement and gorged themselves on their cakes, not bothered in the slightest by the strange behavior of their boss. Lord Ouranos paid them well and kept them fed, and that was more than enough for them.

[Anonymous]

Two shady characters sat in the corner of the tavern, looking out at the scene before them – one amused, one indifferent. Their eyes were peeled on the display before them – an older gentleman, dressed in fine robes, obviously living a lavish life of luxury, commanding a slew of mercenaries. They did not appear to fit in with the normal scene of Zantaric, but because they had lived here for so long, they too, managed to blend in, even though their appearance might suggest that they should not.

Salazar, the one who sat to the right of the table, had heard of a man who appeared to be loved and lauded by the mercs of Zantaric, but he had never bothered to investigate the rumor. Thinking nothing of it, except that such a man might just be some rich old sod that had nothing better to do, he had let the rumors come and fall, as they always did, but curiosity – well, it killed the cat.

Dressed in his usual – a white, collared shirt, black breeches, and a black cape tied loosely around his neck, he did not look so out of place, for dirt smeared his clothes, wrinkled and tarnished – but he had his own aura, an aura of plague and shadows.

He watched, a single green eyebrow arched, as the older man snapped his fingers, which summoned a group of young maids carrying cakes and ale to strut out into the tavern. The men cheered, and accepted his gift, digging into the cake without an ounce of suspicion for such a luxurious delicacy. Not only did the mysterious man feed 'his' men, but the maids brought cake and ale for the rest of the tavern too, and even stopped by their table, dropping by two frosted cakes, along with a hearty mug of ale.

Balthazar, who sat to the left of the table, brought the mug of ale to his lips without a second thought, ignoring the maid who had brought it, who seemed to be clamoring for his attention. He waved him off, with a dismissive shake of his hand, looking towards Salazar, who did not look away from the gentleman, lost in thought. Balthazar, dressed in his usual suit and fedora, should be the last person to criticize how lavishly this person dressed – but besides his clothes, there was something off about him, something different. Still, was he so different that he had to be roused from his normal duties, just to see this man boss around his minions?

When the maid had finally realized that Bal was not interested in being solicited, he turned toward Sal, his breath low, bored. "Remind me what we're doing here again..." Bal sighed, but Salazar did not bother to look at him. He did not touch his cake, either, but continued to watch the display.

"We're listening," he informed, his voice a low hiss. "This man is obviously not just some rich geezer who gets off on ordering people around all day." His voice was a low bass – masculine, strong. "Who is he? Or rather, what he is... An eccentric? Or, no, something darker..."

"I couldn't care less," Bal muttered, toying with his fork, and sighed as one of his men spoke of raping and killing a girl. "His men speak like they're deviants for the sake of being deviant. I mean, really – it's more fun to seduce the girl and leave her broken-hearted. Honestly..." He twirled his fork between his fingers, eyes wide – suddenly inspired. "After all, isn't life more torturous than the sweet relief death brings?"

Sal groaned, inspecting the dirt underneath his fingernails. "I won't do with your nonsensical tirades tonight," he hissed, leaning over the table in order to get his brother's attention. "That man is no ordinary man – we owe it to ourselves to investigate this, at the very least. He may seem ... very eccentric, but if he's someone dark, someone who has lived perhaps as long as us..."

"This is about Beelzebub, isn't it?"

Sal cut his eyes at him, incensed, silenced.

"Very well, dear brother," Balthazar sighed, and stood up from their table, taking his mug of ale with him. Salazar followed suit, and the two strode over toward the strange man's table – Lord Ouranos, as he was called. Balthazar raised his mug of ale towards him, and wore his charming mask, grinning.

"You've won yourself two new recruits, Lord Ouranos!" he cried aloud, and took a seat at his table, as Sal followed suit again. "My brother and I are quite curious about this job – tell us more, about this venture!" He took a swing of ale in the lord's honor, and opened his ears and eyes – waiting, smirking, and listening in on the conversations all around him.

This man and his overeager enthusiasm for an "evil" – it was probably just a mask, one he wore in order to pump these men up, for some deed he wanted them to do. No one could be this over the top, could they? He would play along for now – for Salazar, and because of his own curiosity.

Salazar sat, only staring at the lord, his yellow eyes piercing, obviously trying to cipher just what stuff this man might be made of. If he was of dark descent, and as old as they were – perhaps he could be an ally. He had no intention of becoming a throwaway mercenary, no, and would approach him as soon as he was alone about that aura he exuded. But for now, he would drink ale, and listen, as his brother did, and wait for his time to rise.

[Anonymous]

His eyes flickered with interest when the two young men rose from their seats and approached his table. One of the most crucial lessons he had learned in his long life was the importance of being observant, especially in a dangerous place like a den of thieves, and these gentlemen stuck out quite glaringly among the mob of filthy rabble that filled the tavern. Strangely enough, the other patrons had paid them no mind, which suggested to him that, despite his suspicions to the contrary, the two lived in Zantaric - or at least frequented it enough to become familiar with the townsfolk. Despite the fact that he resided just outside of town, his presence was often required in other lands, so he doubted he had ever seen them in town before. Besides, if he had, he most definitely would have remembered them.

Their aura caught his attention the very moment they had entered the tavern. It was not unlike his own, which became even more apparent to him the closer the came to his table. There were notable differences - no two auras were exactly alike - but the similarities far outweighed them. Something dark, something malicious festered deep within their very beings, far more sinister than the greed and wrath that motivated his men. There was no doubt in his mind that they sensed it within him, or at the very least suspected there was something more to him. Even his dull, uneducated mercenaries could tell that he was more than what he seemed, but they had the sense not to pry into the matter. Asking questions was frowned upon in Zantaric, and those that snooped into matters best left untouched often found themselves in rather unpleasant situations.

To his pleasure, both sat down across from him, and the more strangely dressed of the two raised his mug and offered their services, expressing interest in the mission. Ouranos laughed merrily in response, and as if on cue the mercenaries sitting around him joined in. Unlike the laughter of their lord, theirs was noticeably forced, no matter how genuine they attempted to sound. The mercenaries would never admit it, but even though they appreciated his generosity, most rightfully doubted his sanity. No sane man, no matter how twisted, would openly brag about being evil, nor would he encourage others to commit heinous acts for evil's sake. Afraid of risking his displeasure, the men simply went along with his strange behavior.

"Well, look at this! This spiffy gentleman... andhisconsiderablylessspiffybutstillprettycool friend are interested in our little adventure! I'm surprised that respectable men like yourselves would waste your time on such a trivial little mission, but I'm not the type to ask questions! That usually gets your throat slit around these parts, or in the case of your slightly girlish friend, worse. But anyway, welcome aboard!"

Soon after he finished speaking, one of the young women walked over to him and placed a plate before him; instead a cake, it was a plate full of raw meat. The fact that he would settle for such a simple meal  while his own men dined on delicacies would be seen as a remarkably humble, if somewhat strange gesture by most, but the truth of the matter was that cakes did not suit his bestial tastes. Removing the gloves from his hands, Ouranos tore into the haunch of meat, ripping it apart easily. He plopped a large chunk into his mouth and swallowed it whole, then turned his attention back to the newcomers sitting across from him, smiling brightly as he wiped his mouth clean with a napkin.

"Before I speak about the mission, I think it would only be proper if we started with introductions."  Ouranos grinned and clasped his hands together, looking among his men. "I know most crime lords like to treat their men like pieces of meat, but as delightfully wicked as I am, I still consider you all my own family. I'd like for each of you to say your name and tell me something about yourself that you believe makes you unique. You might be a faceless mass of expendable goons, but that doesn't mean you aren't special in your own special way!Special."

Samuelson put down his mug and smiled proudly, rising from his seat. "The name's Samuelson! Me mum always told me I was special because -"

"Nobody cares about you, Samuelson,"  Ouranos interrupted, laughing merrily as he reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "I hope one of these women gives you a disease later tonight, I really do. Now go and die in a fire, or something."  He then turned to Balthazar and Salazar and gave them a friendly wave. "We'll start with you two! You're clearly the most interesting - and spiffiest - people at this table. Go ahead, share with us! Sharing is caring, as the saying goes."

[Anonymous]

[ OOC | In case you're curious, I'll be referring to Salazar with masculine pronouns from now in my prose – he identifies as male, so I should be referring to him as such, as I've recently learned.  'Tis just a head's up, so you're not too confused! Oh, and I haven't said it yet, so I'll say it now – welcome to SotE! ]

Salazar tented his fingers, still staring at the lord with his piercing green eyes, glad that it hadn't taken much to infiltrate this eccentric lord's circle. Could it really be called infiltrating, he wondered, if all it had taken to sit here was Bal's simple gesture – of raising his mug of ale?

It was probably the easiest time he ever had, when it came to sitting in someone's favor – and, if this task he was sending all these mercs out to accomplish was really as trivial as he claimed it to be, then this could be a quick and painless affair. To uncover this man's true disposition, and the type of darkness that sat with his soul... that was his true objective here.

As for Balthazar, being here at all did not sit well with him – amongst common swine and filthy common rats. Despite the everlasting grin he wore, inside, he was seething. If not for Sal, he would not bother being here at all – he had his own agendas, his own goal to reach, and he wasn't getting any closer to it by sitting around with these gutter rats. His face, however, did not betray his emotions – Bal was always in total control of his heart, or so, he claimed that he was.

Sal raised a single green eyebrow at the term 'girlish friend', but only smirked and laughed hoarsely, dismissing it. The lord, too, seemed to find it odd that the two were interested in the venture, but Sal only smiled, and assured, "No task is too petty in my eyes. You'll find that we have...quite some time to waste."

Speak for yourself, Bal couldn't help but think, Every second you waste is a second my utopia is delayed.

And utopia would continue to be delayed, for the eccentric lord had decided he would like to get to know his goons, before the mission started. This was really pushing Balthazar's limit, but Sal seemed to wear his best poker face, and even seemed amused by the whole venture. Judging by the size of this crowd, this could be a damn long introduction section. Bal sighed, looking forlornly in his mug – the ale was gone. Damnit.

The lord wanted to start with them – which made sense, given the situation. Bal removed his fedora, and did a slight bow in his seat, grinning up at the lord with aureolin yellow eyes – his slit pupils making his grin rival that of the Cheshire cat. "Call me Bal," he offered. Balthazar was for those who knew him as a High Demon – for people who could stand on equal ground as him, or above him, if possible. Ground had not yet been established yet. "Con artist, extortionist, and swindler extraordinaire." But really, he was the Agent of Discord, weilder of the shadows – but what good what it do, to say that here? No, not now, not yet. "And here is my brother –"

"Sal," Salazar interrupted. If there was one thing he hated, it was being introduced by someone else, even if that someone else was his own brother. "Bal and I are... as you would call it, 'go getters.'" He smirked, tilted his head. "If something strikes our fancy, well, we'll go 'get it', so to speak."

We deal in demons, Sal thought, pensive. And there has to be a demon – if not something just as dark – inside this one. Despite the lord's ranting, Sal did not plan on being an 'expendable goon.' If there was anything he was good at, it was establishing the common ground that two dark beings stood it – it was just a matter of patience.

And that patience was something Balthazar didn't have. He tipped his fedora to the lord, still grinning. "But don't let my brother and I take up all your time," Bal assured, pulling his hat down, "After all, we have so many introductions to get through, don't we?" He was baiting – wondering if this guy was really going to wait for all of these Dick, Tom and Harrys to give their little spiel. If they were all anything like Samuselson, Bal wasn't sure how much of it he'd be able to take.

[Anonymous]

(OOC: Got'cha - and thanks for the welcome. =D)

Ouranos listened patiently while the brothers went through their introductions, smiling cheerfully all the while. Fittingly for such mysterious men, their responses were vague, and yet right to the point at the same time. He could tell from their eloquence that they were educated men, or perhaps naturally intelligent. Much like himself, these gentlemen were of an entirely different class than the slovenly, unwashed brigands that sat among them; they were gifted with immense power and the smarts to make good use of it. Even though they had only exchanged a few words so far, he could already feel himself developing a respect for them. To actually gain the respect of the enigmatic lord was a rare enough feat, but to earn it from a first impression was nothing short of astonishing.

"What spectacular introductions!"  He chuckled heartily as he began tearing into his meat again. "You both certainly have a way with words. In a business like this it's important to sell yourselves well, and you both succeeded with flying colors! I know for a fact that none of these men are as well-spoken - or as interesting - as you two fine gentlemen, so let's spare ourselves the boredom and get right to the point!"

If these men were anything like him, listening to all of their tales would bore them to death. Ouranos did not consider himself a merciful man, but since he had taken a shining to them, he thought it would only be polite not to subject them to such an incredible annoyance. Having his men introduce themselves was one of the ways he separated the promising recruits from the mediocre, and since he was at least somewhat familiar with all of the men sitting around him, he knew that going through the routine would be a complete waste of time. Admittedly, it would have been easier to simply single the brothers out without involving the other men in the first place, but enjoyed messing with their minds.

"Now let's get to the point, shall we?"  he continued with a wide smile. "Usually, I only ask you men to commit small robberies or kidnappings. The work isn't too difficult, and you're always paid handsomely for your services. I know for a fact that some of you could buy yourselves a stately mansion with all the gold I've given you over the years - if you hadn't blown it all on booze and filthy women. But I'm dancing around the point, aren't I? The fact of the matter is that this mission will be slightly more ambitious than the last. You're all capable men, so I'm sure you can handle it. Remember, you're special!"

Folding his hands on the table, he smiled at the crowd of men sitting before him, falling silent for what seemed like an eternity. He went completely still, very much like a statue, his eerie grin never leaving his face. His eyes fixed themselves on the wall across from him, and seemed to briefly flash gold before returning to their usual gray. The thieves looked at one another uncertainly, understandably confused as to why their master had paused for so long.

"I'd very much like to eat Queen Qiana of Serendipity. Capture her and bring her to me - alive."

A deathly silence filled the tavern. All eyes were glued to the lord sitting at the head of the table, wide with disbelief. The fact that he would give his men such a daunting task was shocking enough, but what truly disturbed the thieves was how he phrased his request. Their eccentric master did not want to merely kill the new queen; he wanted to eat her. Normally the men cheered enthusiastically when Ouranos told them to steal or murder, but they could not muster anything more than horrified stares at this mission. Aside from being grotesque, it was obviously far beyond the abilities of a bunch of thieves.

Ouranos broke the silence with another merry laugh. "I can see you're all quite speechless - and understandably so! Queen Qiana hasn't ever wronged me; in fact, I've never even met the woman. But rest assured, my friends, I do have my reasons. I'll admit I have absolutely no idea where to even begin here, but I'm sure as sunshine that a stellar idea will pop into one of your... gifted minds. Oh, and it goes without saying that the one among you who accomplishes this will never go hungry again."

The thieves, unsurprisingly, said nothing.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Chop-chop! Get yourselves a-movin'!"  He pointed a turkey leg in the direction of Balthazar and Salazar. "Except you two. I'd like for you to stay after class."

[Anonymous]

Darkness would always beget darkness – Salazar was sure of it. When one allowed their soul to be overrun and corrupt with shadows, it naturally evolved an instinct to seek out others that were just as twisted than themselves.

Therefore, it was so easy, so instinctive, for two dark creatures to see themselves in the cracked mirror of another's heart – easy for words, gestures and small intimations to meet the heart of another just like it. So when the lord approved of them, heartily proclaiming them to be well-spoken gentlemen, Sal could not help but relax his shoulders ever so slightly – the hard part was over with. While he had been doing this for the past three millennia, every new face brought with them a new challenge. Somehow, this business never got old.

Impressed or not impressed, Balthazar was thankful that he didn't have to sit here and listen to a hoard of slovenly mercs rattle on about their personal lives. If Bal really had to sit around and listen to that... Well, he'd probably have lost his temper before he knew it, and Sal would never let him live it down.

Relieved, and glad to hear they'd finally be getting to a point, the High Demon waved over to a young maid, shoved his mug in her hands, and wordlessly asked her to fill it up with more ale. To his bad luck, it had been the same maid vying for his attention before – but a death stare from Sal was enough to get her off his case. He turned back to the lord, leaning back in his chair, oddly casual and comfortable.

Apparently, this lord wasn't just called 'lord' for the hell of it – the pay these scumbag mercs made was off the goddamn charts. Did he really pay them enough, so that they could be living in mansions, if they had not squandered it all? No wonder the turnout at the tavern had been so huge, Sal thought, but money was an object – an object Sal had no use for, really. It was useful to have, he knew, when it came to persuading the masses, especially humans. Their paycheck was probably why they bothered to stick around – who would turn down such a high sum of money?

Bal, who was secretly bored, and Sal, who hung off the lord's every word, could not expect what happened next. While Ouranos hyped up the mission, and spoke of his mercs being special individuals, he finally revealed what the hell he wanted them to do – catch Queen Qiana of Serendipity, and bring her back to him. So he could eat her. Alive..

Sal furrowed his brows – pensive, pondering, but could not understand the order. Was it a suicide mission? Or did he really expect them to bring her back alive? Or maybe he just wanted to get rid of them... who knew? Even Bal, who had been half listening to this conversation, suddenly raised an eyebrow, his grin morphing into a smirk, and he laughed a little, elbowing his brother, and muttering, "This just got interesting."

"It's always been interesting. It just takes a special brand of chaos to stir you up," Sal muttered back, giving him a look that urged for her brother to be quiet.

After all, the room was eerily silent – it seemed like none of them could even comprehend the order they had just been given. But eventually, they did leave. The lord, however, had plans for them, for he pointed a turkey leg at them and ordered the duo to stay after class.

At the wording, Bal laughed, pulling off his fedora and spinning it around his index finger. "Have we been naughty students, teacher?" he asked – in jest, good-naturedly – and kicked his boots up on the table, getting comfortable. Who knew how long they were staying here? And – just in time – the maid had finally come back with a mug of his ale. He took a long sip of his drink, and looked to Sal – because really, it was his idea to come here in the first place, wasn't it?

Salazar tented his fingers again, and looked up at Ouranos out from over his fingers. "I must say, Lord Ouranos – you have quite a hearty appetite. One would say it's not very... human." Better to lay out his theories now, in small subtleties, than worry about beating around the bush. Sal smirked as he said it, as if to say, you know what I'm getting at, right?

[Anonymous]

Without speaking another word, the thieves rose from the table and quietly filed out of the tavern. The other patrons, knowing that it would be foolish to remain, followed out them out, their eyes glued to the floor as they headed out the door. Not even bothering to clean the tables, the maids hurried to the kitchen without so much as a peep. Even those who had never worked for the strange lord before knew better than to displease him. After all, only a fool would cross a man who announced his intention to eat one of the most influential monarchs in all the land.

Ouranos watched with a smile as the patrons left, then turned his attention back to the brothers sitting before him. He laughed warmly when Salazar immediately drew attention to his appetite, cleverly voicing his suspicions about his true nature. Although he took pleasure in dragging out conversations and playing games with people, he very much admired his bluntness. There was no doubt in his mind that they could sense what he truly was, so he saw no problem with getting right to the point. There were few instances when he put genuine effort into maintaining his masquerade. His men almost definitely knew that he wasn't human - especially after his latest announcement - but wisely chose not to bother him about it. Asking too many questions in Zantaric was risky enough, but pestering a dragon meant certain death.

"You don't waste any time, do you... Sal, was it? It's refreshing to speak with someone who gets right to the heart of the matter. These thieves spend so much time kissing my rear that a five minute conversation can drag on for half an hour. But I'm rambling again, aren't it?"

Lowering his turkey leg, he folded his hands on the table and fell silent, looking directly at the brothers. His dark aura suddenly intensified, sending a chill through the tavern. The whites of his eyes darkened until they were pure black, and his gray irses brightened into pure gold. An intense evil burned within his eyes, an evil born from centuries of heinous crimes and atrocities. The demonic nature of his eyes contrasted heavily with the cheerful smile plastered on his face,  making him look far more disturbing than before. What the brothers suspected had been confirmed: the eccentric lord sitting before them was a being born from darkness, a demonic creature not unlike themselves.

"Since you were kind enough to introduce yourselves, it's only right that I return the favor! My name is Ouranos. I've played the role of a crime lord for the past decade, but as you can see I'm much more than that. Explaining to you exactly what I am would take about as long as listening to all of those introductions, so I won't bore you with the details. I suppose you could call me a dragon, but that wouldn't be entirely correct."

Pausing, he took a large bite out of his turkey leg. "And you two are obviously similar to me," he mumbled as he swallowed his food. "I sensed it from the moment you entered the tavern - just as you undoubtedly sensed my aura. So tell me, what really brings you to my table? I'm all ears - not literally, but you get the point."

[Anonymous]

Such orderly henchmen, Balthazar noticed, while twirling his fedora on the tip of his middle finger. After being given such an impossible order, they merely filed out of the tavern in an almost peaceable fashion, and didn't dare to inquire their leader about the task. Of course, this was Zantaric – people here learned their place or died out of ignorance – but it was still an impressive show.

There was usually that henchman, at least, who would cry out 'this is an outrage!' and 'how dare you treat us this way!' who would normally have to be silenced, and would normally serve as the sacrificial lamb, to put others in their place as well. But there were no tired clichés here, no bumbling imbecile to throw an unrelenting hissy fit. Silently, they filed away, to let the grownups talk business – and that was how things should be, no?

Salazar grinned at Ouranos' comment – not wasting time was what Sal specialized at. Oh sure, like any high demon, he could play mind games and spin yarns and tall tales, but really, there was no need for that here. Their souls were both seeped in sin – it was an elementary game, at this point, to sense the true darkness from the imps. And here – here, Ouranos brought forth his true aura, his eyes burning an intense gold color, the smile on his face more disturbed. It was true aura, or at least, something close to it. Sal smiled as Ouranos brought forth his true colors – he was as good as in.

"I must apologize, Ouranos. My introduction was partial at best – cut short, to hide such information from prying mortal ears." Sal's tone suggested that he saw the mercs as simple nuisances at best – it would be a pain to have to hunt down mortals who spread rumors about him and his status as high demons. And, just as Ouranos did – it was best to hide your status as a being of darkness from those who could not comprehend such darkness – no good came of revealing yourself to large groups of humans.

Sal bowed slightly, to which Bal furrowed his eyebrows – it always bothered him, to see Salazar so gracious, so willing to ally himself with power, to beget more power. "My full name is Salazar, Lord of the Flies," he went on to say, and gestured toward his brother again. "And this is Balthazar, Agent of Discord." Sal paused, offering Balthazar time to introduce himself further with a more proper tone, but Bal stayed silent, urging his brother to continue on with his eyes. He was here because Sal was here, and he would follow his brother to the end of the earth, but no more.

The Lord of the Flies dismissed him, focusing on Ouranos. "As for why we're here... I'm here to offer my services to you." Sal tented his fingers, looking up at the crime lord with a mischievous grin. "The two of us – we are similar, are we not? From my millennia walking the worlds, I have learned that beings of darkness are always, constantly, working to achieve some greater goal. And they can never do it alone." He rested his hands on the table, tilted his head to the side. "And sometimes, even the largest group of henchmen cannot finish a job themselves."

Balthazar pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pack as Sal smoke. Rice paper acted as filter for the herbal smokes, and he lit the tip of it with a bit of fire magic. He took a long drag of the cigarette and puffed it out, watching Sal speak, saying nothing. He had always been the smooth talker – Bal spoke with power, not words. Silently, he hoped Sal knew what he was getting into – should he send her on crazy missions like taking out the Queen of Serendipity, well, it would endanger their status here on this planet. Bal could not leave Le'renna, not yet, since he had his ward to catch... Sal, however, was free as a bird.

"An allegiance is what I'm offering," Sal continued. "Your problems and your goals become my own. In exchange, I'd ask the same of you. But, you'll find that my own goals are not so encompassing, no – if we were to form an allegiance, the only thing I'd want from you is..." He paused, letting his sentence hang unfinished in the air, before continuing. "... information. Access to any libraries or tomes you might have."

Salazar sat back in his chair, quiet for a moment. "It is probably a lot to ask, from a stranger. But, you'll find that a set of brothers –" Sal paused, cut off by a ring of smoke Balthazar blew in his direction, and cut his eyes over at Bal, who finished his sentence with a smirk. " – make the most powerful allies," Bal concluded, taking another drag of his cigarette.

[Anonymous]

(OOC: Apologies for the late response! I have more free time on my hands now, so my posts should come more frequently.)

His smile grew slightly as Salazar introduced himself and his brother. To his amusement, their names reflected their dark nature surprisingly well. If he ever ran into someone with an ominous name like theirs, he would expect them to be some sort of sinister creature of the night - or perhaps a foolish child who wanted to appear more intimidating. After all, one of the keys to survival in a place like Zantaric was to have a dangerous image. A weakling who had a frightening air about him was much less likely to have a dagger taken to his throat while wandering about at night. Of course, he knew full well that these two had a bite to match their bark - and that made them valuable allies.

Ouranos folded his hands on the table, listening patiently as the demon explained exactly what their allegiance would entail. Unsurprisingly for a demon, Salazar was gifted with quite a silver tongue. The man spoke of how beings of darkness like themselves always strove for some sort of greater goal, a master plan. This assertion, he reflected, was both correct and incorrect - at least in terms of his own schemes. Over the course of his long life he had conjured up countless schemes, many of them spanning centuries, but he had since grown tired of that. The wicked lord still had something of a plan backed away in the confines of his deranged mind, but it was not nearly as organized as his previous ones. As far has he was concerned, the days of "master plans" were finished. He lived for the moment, and leaving things to chance made life more interesting.

Once Balthazar finished his brother's sales pitch, Ouranos let out a hearty chuckle. "I'm certain that I will! I must say, you're quite a gifted speaker, Mister Salazar. Quite an admirable talent! There's nothing in your proposition that I found objectionable, so consider me an ally! I'm sure that we'll all be the best of friends."

Letting out a soft yawn, he rested his cheek against his knuckles. "So you want information? That can be arranged. It's been quite a while since I've run into someone who's actually interested in reading a boo! This being Zantaric, people usually use them for kindling. I actually saw one of my thieves eating one a few years back, but he always seemed a bit, erm... special. I later learned that he inhaled some bad magical fumes a while back. But I'm rambling now, aren't I? I apologize. Rest assured, I have plenty of tomes that I'd love to share with you."

This was a pleasant surprise. Ouranos had expected a long list of terms, so needless to say it was pleasing to hear that all Salazar wanted was information. Although he personally had little interest in ancient tomes, his old master had left him with a veritable treasure house of knowledge. His master, being the secretive person that he was, had encoded most of his books, but Ouranos had managed to decode most of them over the years; not because he was interested in their contents, but merely because it was something to do. As fun as it was to meddle in the affairs of humans, Ouranos had to find other ways to pass the time, and his master's records were quite challenging brain teasers.

"I have a small library in the basement of my mansion. Most of the tomes deal with ancient magic, but there are some books that pertain to the history of this land. You're more than welcome to them, and I'll be more than happy to help you if you're looking for something in particular. Consider me your librarian dragon!"  His eyes then fell on Balthazar. "And what of yourself, Mister Balthazar? Is there anything you would ask of me? I have a little supply of cigars that I think you'd like, but I have a feeling you'd want something more substantial than that."

[Anonymous]

It had been just that easy – for all of Ouranos' darkness, he was quite the reasonable man, and seemed to be more than happy to share his tomes with Salazar. At the news, Sal couldn't help but smile – it was a small crooked smile, the only way Sal knew how to express any sort of satisfaction. "Excellent," Salazar replied, placing his hands on the table. "Consider us allies then, from this point on. If you ever need an extra hand in causing some chaos, be sure to let us know."

Us, Sal had said, you too, Bal. He had done that on purpose, Balthazar knew, just as he always felt he had to remind him of his duties. Granted, at least Sal had learned to pick his allies well. The dark aura this man was giving off was quite old, older than their own, he knew. But then, Sal was a man attracted to power, and his sense was far better than Bal's. He probably knew all along, how powerful this man was, and how vital of an ally he'd make. Salazar always had a knack for knowing these things better than he did.

"Whenever you've a moment, I'd be honored to see your tomes," Salazar continued. "It is odd, to see someone around here who actually wants to read books, I admit.. But I've been searching for some information for quite some time now, and maybe your tomes have the answers I need..." He wasn't going to get his hopes up, of course – Beelzebub was a sneaky, maniacal bastard, and it seemed impossible to find any information on him and the powers his soul possessed. After all these years, Sal had only managed to come across bits and pieces of information that only brought up more questions than they answered.

Bal, who had been taking a drag of his cigarette, looked up as Ouranos addressed him, asking what he would want from the bargain. He grinned, shook his head, and blew out smoke. "You'll find I'm a lot less demanding than my silver-tongued brother," Bal stated, shaking his head. "Some cigars, perhaps, would be pleasant," he joked, "But there's really nothing – "

"Bal, let's not tell lies," Salazar interrupted, throwing a wayward glance at his brother. Was he really going to do this, again? Did Sal not spend ages, combing the worlds for strong allies, for nothing? No – he did it for Bal too, but he was always too much of an egomaniac to ask for help. They were in deeper trouble than ever before because he had let the ward escape, and he was really going to sit there and say he needed no help? Honestly...

He looked toward Ouranos again, his eyes serious. "Bal's looking for someone."

"Salazar." Bal hated when Sal did this – always assuming he needed help, like a child. He was not some snot-nosed kid who needed help finding a playmate – he could handle this sort of thing on his own, couldn't he? He dropped his cigarette on the floor, put it out with the heel of his shoe, still feigning that apathetic face.

"He's a boy with dark purple hair, and elf-like ears. He is part demon, I believe – part elf. He usually carries the taint of darkness on him – a darkness like yours or mine, but the aura is immature. He is young, foolish, and, dare I say it, cowardly."

"...I don't need help finding him, Sal."

"He seems to have some control over darkness, and illusion – and speed," Salazar continued. "His best talents are avoiding detection and teleportation. He has proven to be quite a nuisance, and quite a pain to catch, and has managed elude Bal for a few centuries now."

"A century. It's been one century."

"His name is Stolen Cross," Salazar finished, ignoring his brother throughout his whole speech. "If you ever see anyone who fits the description, we would be eternally grateful if you could apprehend him. He's committed... heinous crimes against my brother's master."

Discord. Bal could not leave until he had secured the other half of Discord's power. He lit another cigarette, blew out smoke, and shook his head. Sal never had an issue with airing this information out to their allies – it was fine, he supposed, but it was annoying, how this one kid had managed to avoid capture for this long. His feigned look of apathy had disappeared, and now he seemed quite annoyed at his brother, who ignored the stares Bal gave him. It was for his own good, really.

Salazar – who always felt it was best to help his stubborn brother in whatever way he could, even if it was against his will – took a breath, returning back to Ouranos. "Is there anything you would have us do, Ouranos, for our end of the deal?" Sal had already pledged his and his brother's allegiance to this man – but if there were any tasks they could do at this moment, they may as well. The night was young – and they had all eternity to read his tomes, after all.

[Anonymous]

Ouranos chuckled softly as he listened to the brothers bicker. It was at times like this that he wished his own siblings were still alive. Of course, the relationship between siblings was normally rather impersonal between dragons, so he had never really bonded with any of his countless kin. While it wasn't something that he particularly regretted, it would have been nice to have a relationship like the demonic brothers sitting before him. Despite having lived for countless lifetimes, there were so many things that he had never really experienced, so many opportunities left unexplored. Fortunately, that would change soon enough.

"I'm sorry to say that this young man doesn't sound familiar. My business brings me into contact with all sorts of interesting people, but nothing's coming to mind. I'll be more than happy to help you search for this Stolen Cross, though. We dragons have a memory that can put elephants to shame. Also kind of a funny name if you don't mind me saying. Maybe a thief ran off with him?  The joke is that his name is Stolen."

Despite his rather silly answer, something about his story did strike a chord with him: this young elf had wronged Bal's master. While he had never personally encountered Bal's master, he understood the demon's frustration all too well. Ouranos was a remarkably laid-back dragon and put up with things that would drive most of his kind to violence, but he would not stand for someone disrespecting his master. Those who spoke poorly of his master quickly learned that this seemingly pleasant dragon could be quite a frightening foe. Centuries ago he had found himself in a situation very similar to Bal's, but it was much too late for him to rectify the problem now. Much too late. This failure was the only thing in his life that he truly regretted.

But now the attention was on him: they wanted to know about his goals, what they could do to help him. His smile widened at the question. Years ago he would have had a whole list of schemes to share with them, but those days were long gone. But still, there was one thing that he considered asking him, one thing that would breathe life back into his pointless existence. But he couldn't; he needed more information before he could enlist their aid for such a mission. Still, he was sure they would be much better at gathering sacrifices than any of his bumbling servants. Still, the sacrifices were at best a momentary pleasure. Something told him that their mission would be much more fulfilling.

"There are..."  He paused briefly, hiding his apprehension behind the same wide grin. "There are some things that I might ask of you. I'm still interested in the whole Queen thing, but something tells me you two wouldn't want to attract that kind of attention. I used to be the type that worked in the shadows, but that's not how I operate anymore. But let's not worry about that now, mmm? I'm more interested in Mister Balthazar's vendetta. One should never allow someone to get away with insulting his master. I made the same mistake, long ago, but I'm not sure you two would be able to help me rectify it after so long. At any rate, I would be honored to help you get your revenge. If you don't do anything about it, the anger never does go away - believe me."

[Anonymous]

It was silly, Balthazar knew, to get his hopes up – to think that maybe he had seen Stolen Cross somewhere, that maybe he'd be able to get a lead. But of course, fools who dared to dream always ended up disappointed – even High Demons were no exception to this rule. Bal shook his head, wondering why he had allowed himself to even dream, just for that moment, that he would at least be given a direction to run in.

One would think, after all these millennia of living, that he would learn how to keep his emotion still. But maybe there were some things that were harder to learn, in life, than others. Despite everything, he cracked the smallest of smiles – or maybe it was a smirk – at Ouranos' quip regarding his ward's name. Stolen, haha – of course, he had never thought much of it, given it was Discord's idea and he never questioned anything Discord did, but hell, the joke did warrant a chuckle. It was one of those jokes that were so bad, it was good. Maybe.

But Ouranos had a point – if he could not find Stolen before it was too late, he knew he would regret it forever. The power he had stolen from Discord by just existing – he had to get it back, and join him with his master, before it was too late. It was funny, the term 'too late' – it wasn't one that he ever used, ever, unless referring to Stolen. He hated how suddenly everything had a time limit, now that he had managed to get himself involved in this mess. If Ouranos was offering to help, then Bal really could not turn him down, despite his pride. He didn't have time to play games.

"Any help you could offer," Balthazar began, "would be greatly appreciated." It meant a lot, coming from him. He paused for a moment, trying to think of details, things that perhaps Ouranos could help with. "Getting revenge is not so easy, though. While Stolen himself is weak, he specializes in magic that helps him run, and hide."

How could you capture an enemy when he put his heart into hiding away? It was infuriating. "Most annoying of all is his passive cloaking ability. Stolen can cloak his essence so perfectly that he could be standing in this room and I wouldn't even know it. Chasing him is like chasing a ghost – and even then, at least you can see  ghost. Without a way to counter his cloaking ability, my chase has come to a standstill." He wasn't sure, if dragons had a way of knowing someone was there – even if they could make themselves totally invisible, and hide their aura, their essence, their spark of life – but Balthazar couldn't, not by a long shot.  

Salazar, on the other hand, was more interested in Ouranos' demand for the queen. Sure, there were things that Sal wanted to do on this planet, things that would require him to go unknown for the most part, but Salazar was never good at passing up something that sounded so intriguing. "I can't help but be curious – why do you want the queen so badly, Ouranos?" Sal tilted his head to the side, wondering if it was one of those 'just because' plans that demons older than him ended up sprouting. "While my brother and I normally don't go out of our way to attract attention, we've never passed up an opportunity to stir up a little chaos." He grinned, while Bal would beg to differ.