Shadowrun
Shadowrun Play => Play-by-Post => Topic started by: The Wyrm Ouroboros on <05-21-12/0429:03>
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The battered dark brown Gaz-Willys Mastodon trundled heavily down the rubble-strewn Intercity 7 leading towards the 'refugee' elven enclave of Tarislar. Unbuffed dimples free of paint displayed places where the vehicle's tough armor had defeated bullets; the rear right quarter-panel showed blackening as well. All of this, however, was typical of any vehicle making its way through the Puyallup Barrens.
What wasn't typical was the very comfortable inside of the massive Ford-Canada Bison knockoff. Four individuals rode inside, a quiet tension filling the cabin as the typical loose bricks scattered across the road disappeared. The Tir Tairngire exiles had a certain amount of civic pride, and the fact that they'd scraped up enough cash to contract with Knight Errant made the streets here a relatively safe place. Even the 'street gang' Laésa had a vested interest in keeping the relative peace outside. Going by the presence of wall-propping lean young elves, the ex-Rinelle were out in force. Subtle force, perhaps, but one which was obvious to those with eyes experienced enough to see.
The male passenger in the back seat, a Caucasian elf, sighed as the SUV rolled past yet another trio of 'beautiful people'. "God. I'm going to feel like the oldest one there." In truth, he looked more like a human his real age than his metatype normally did; instead of the lean twentysomething-looking elves outside, his temples were silvering and his face was showing the lines of a forty-year-old male. Not that that's bad when you're actually 64, but there were noticeably no 'old' elves outside.
"Not likely," replied the man in the driver's seat. He reached up to scratch idly at his chest, the discoloration of the old plastic of his cybernetic arm doing nothing to impede its function. "Or at least, not as proportion to estimated lifespan." He glanced sideways at the young-looking Japanese female riding in the shotgun seat. "Is so, eh?"
The woman smiled slightly, but shook her head. "I'm not here for repartee, Piotyr. I'm on the job." True to her statement, she shifted her gaze with three-second regularity, never fixing on one thing for too long, mental threat-analysis keeping a running scale.
"That is pity. You are very good at repartee."
"You know, you've been in Seattle for what, ten years? What is it about the accent that makes you cling to it so much?"
"Makes people underestimate. Is like cigarettes -- they see, they think derision, contempt, they not think of me as threat..."
"Well, if you keep driving this trash bucket around the place, you won't be ..."
In the back seat, the Caucasian elf tuned out the friendly bickering of the two in the front, continuing to watch the storefronts pass as the Mastodon proceeded deliberately to its destination. "Tell me again," came the voice from the fourth passenger, looking out her window at the elves, "why they should simply not be quashed. This is taking valuable time away from searching." She kept her voice down, and the expression upon her stunningly beautiful face was one of abstracted petulance.
"God, you remind me of my oldest," the male elf replied wearily. "Look, you know as well as I that they're going to have a basic backup plan. Even if they don't, the First Wyrm's people already have the data, which means the picosecond something happens to these two it'd hit the 'Trix -- and I'd bet my last nuyen that they'd spread it through their own network before each office sent it out." He shook his head, looking at her for a long minute. "Don't worry, they'll play ball. Rakhi may be an arrogant prat, but he's competent. And Xerena spent seven years staying a step ahead of Aztechnology hitters. You don't stay alive this long without choosing your battles, and this is one they're not going to fight too hard over. Hell, they're meeting with us, aren't they?"
She shook her head, the wispy feathers of black hair that escaped her coiffure brushing lightly against the shoulders of her jacket. "They made me come to them, Two."
"I made you go to them, boss," replied the middle-age-seeming elf. "It was the easiest way to get it done. Besides, weren't you heading up to Tsimshian anyhow? Relax. They'll play ball." His head turned back to the window, and he watched a dozen early teens flood back into the street behind them, to continue their interrupted game of stickball.
"I'd bet my last nuyen on it."
This thread is for a behind-VU93 scene between the Wyrm Ouroboros, his boss, Madrecita, and Iceblade. Please do not post here unless you are one of them.
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The Black Dragon Tavern lay in the heart of Tarislar, not three blocks from the Deireadh An Tuartheil hospital. In addition to the Knight Errant patrols and the Laesa, the Ancients could also be seen on the streets, wearing their colors openly. The Laesa and the Ancients both protected this area, though they didn't always see eye to eye with eachother.
Outside the tavern, one might notice that the concentration of Laesa had gotten thicker. There was also a respectable ward set up around the building, with several watchers patrolling the perimeter. Oddly enough, these watchers did not look like floating eyeballs, or things of that nature, but small, childlike elven figures dressed in green, armed with wooden swords. There were also a set of cameras covering the approaches to the building. However, there were no visible weapons anywhere. This was supposed to be a friendly meet, afterall. That didn't mean there weren't weapons, but they at least had the good taste to keep them out of view.
The tavern exterior itself was done in a neo-fantasy style, using modern materials, but clearly designed to look and feel like something out of an old fantasy trid, down to the wooden sign above the door, painted with a stylized black western dragon, and the name Black Dragon Tavern around it. Inside, the theme continued, to the point where all the staff was wearing 'traditional' style fantasy wear. Those looking in on the astral would note at least one free spirit on staff, taking the form of a bard singing songs and telling tales in sperethiel for the crowd. A blonde elf behind the bar greets those who enter cheerily. That would be Shannaleth, the owner, and an adept of the Artist's Way.
In one booth near the back, Iceblade sat, a bottle of Taengele Falan sitting in front of him, with several glasses. He was dressed in a Zoe Heritage Line outfit, done in the 'Traditional Tir' style. He wore a katana openly by his side and a knife was stuck in one boot, but he carried no firearms at the moment. He'd arranged with his contacts for the security, though the wards and the watchers were his own. Other than his blades, and the clasp of his cloak which had his family crest on it, the only ornamentation he wore was a necklace with several fetishes woven into it, with two large dragon fangs forming the centerpiece. One was clearly several years older than the other, as the newer one still had that pure white look bone has when it has been freshly cleaned of all the flesh.
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Information for information. Or rather...information given in exchange for information withheld. Xerena's full lips quirked i a slight smile. It wouldn't be the first time she'd made a deal like that, nor would it be the last Information was a valuable commodity. It rarely paid to refuse any that came your way. That was the main reason she was there. She may not like the old Wyrm much, but he did produce the goods, and that put him several cuts above others she could name.
She shuddered. Whatever info he had to impart had better be good. Part of her wanted the dark knowledge she carried out in the world right now. The Amazonians would certainly pay handsomly for her to do so if they knew. It might help their cause, and possibly rally the world against the Azzies. On the other hand...with all the bad feeling about dragons out there in the world already, it might just blow the lid off several boilers. The world was chaotic enough as it was.
"Lady Fair. I beg leave to request your hand in dance."
She looked up at the young elf that had just interrupted her thoughts, and looked him straight in the eye. Her expression did not change, nor did she give any visible sign of annoyance, but it was nevertheless a glare. The young stud's eyes widened in fright and he hastily backed away. "A...another time maybe..." he stammered.
Opposite her at the table, Miri chuckled.
"You've practiced that look in front of a mirror, haven't you, my dear?"
Xerena favoured him with a genuinely warm smile.
"Actually, my mother swore I was born with it on my face. It's very useful. You may well be the first person it didn't work with."
Her voice was deep and melodic, with just a hint of a Spanish accent showing under her otherwise flawless english. Wide set dark eyes illuminate a somber expression and dusky skin. Her trademark crazy black hair remained untamed, but was now silvery over a quarter of the left side of her head where an encounter with a dragon had caused extensive burns. The hair had grown back in silver. Today she wore a deep blue gown that wouldn't look out of place at either a Renaissance Faire or a corporate "do". As usual, she wore four knives, two tucked into the top of her boots, and two more tucked up her sleeve. It was traditional for Spanish women to be thus armed, and Xerena was Spanish to her fingertips.
She picked up her glass and sipped delicately at the contents, keeping an eye out for their would be benefactor. She didn't have to wait long.
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Mirikon smiled at that. "Ah, my dear, the 'look' is a powerful one, but it has nothing on my Mother. I'll bring you around to meet her sometime. She has a force of personality like the weather. When she's happy, it is sunshine and cool breezes. When she's angry, it is the fury of the hurricane. And when that person is also a mage, who takes the time to develop spells specifically to punish those who anger her... Well, let's just say that we learned to avoid danger early on growing up."
Watching Xerena's eyes, he said, "Of course, she is a very accomplished designer of spells. We follow different traditions, so I've never learned some of the spells she's made, but it was her that created the spell that made the statue of the assassin in my garden. At some point, I'd like to make a version of that spell, but ice instead of stone. More beautiful, I think, and just as effective psychologically on an enemy."
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Her smile broadened, and, keeping her gaze level with his, she said "Mmm...I'm not sure that's a wise idea, Miri, " not clarifying whether she meant meeting his mother, or making ice sculptures of his enemies. She lowered her lashed and leaned back, sipping her Sangria.
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The Mastodon rolled to a slow stop in front of the tavern, idling there for a moment before the doors opened. The first to get out came from the front passenger side, a middle-to-tall attractive Japanese female human. Clothed in a dark brown pantsuit of classic conservative corporate cut, the only thing that is out of place in her dress is the dai-sho, the paired blades of the samurai, carried out of the SUV and slid into place with the absentmindedness that only one to whom they are every-day wear can have. Her gaze slides across the front of the Black Dragon to instead take in the various - numerous - Laésa keeping close watch upon them. A few are given a briefly longer visual examination before the woman turns and leans back into the car, to say something to the rest of those inside.
The rear door opposite opens then, and the next to emerge is a long cool drink of water, an elf with enough lines on his face to make him appear forty, perhaps forty-two; the impression of age was only emphasized by the grey at the temples of his cleanly-trimmed brown hair. Because of that cut, the datajack behind his right ear is fairly obvious, even as he straightens tie, suit jacket, and a deep grey duster whose armoring is betrayed by its resistance to the wind playing with it. He in his turn slides his gaze along the edges of the roof across the street, then in a somewhat abstracted manner around the rest of the area.
While he is doing this, the other two doors open, and two more people emerge. The driver is human, perhaps in his mid-fifties, close-clipped grey hair receeding, with a serviceable face that's seen its share of hard times. In a button-down shirt and dark brown jeans, he adjusts his deep blue navy trenchcoat with his right - artificial - hand before lifting that hand to his mouth, to hold his cigarette in place as he draws in upon it, the tip glowing the classic cherry red as he too examines the area.
The fourth is a stunningly beautiful Native South American woman dressed in up-to-the-nanosecond fashions, corporate mixed with Native American in a manner both striking and unique. The main mass of her dark hair is bound up at the back of her head, but curls and feathers have artfully 'escaped' to arrange themselves in a subtle pattern as they fall to her shoulders.
With all four emerged, the vehicle's doors close themselves, and the Mastodon trundles over to a parking place, settling itself with great finickiness into it. The Japanese woman gives a glance to the elven male, who nods; all four move to the sidewalk as the elf fiddles with a commlink curled around his right forearm.
The commlinks of the two principals inside bleep for attention; it's the Wyrm. "You mind letting us in?"
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Getting the comm message from Wyrm, Mirikon sighed, and looked to Xerena. "Looks like they're here." With a brief nod to one of the people by the door, he took a moment to shift his eyes to the astral, and caused a portal to open in the side of the ward, allowing the group passage. At the same time, one of the servers opened the physical door. It was a young elf woman, and she smiled. "Welcome to the Black Dragon."
Leaning back in the booth, Iceblade watched, waiting for the people to come in. There were others in the bar, but not many. Just the normal early evening crowd. The booth they were at was suitably far away from any of the other patrons that they could talk in relative anonymity. Especially considering the simple device Iceblade placed on the table, a white noise generator, which clicked on, and reduced the conversation at the table to babble as far as anyone listening in would be able to tell. All told, the setup wasn't so secure as renting Hell at Dante's, but it would keep them secure from casual eavesdroppers and troublemakers. Good enough for a simple meet like this. Anything more stringent, and they risked offending their 'guest', as well as tipping off anyone that may be watching that something truly big was going down. At least with the watchers and the wards, they'd have some warning if there were any unwanted guests.
He waited until they were close enough to hear him through the generator's noise, and rose. "Hello, Wyrm. Glad to see you could make it. Would you and your patron care for a drink? I know you don't care for Tir liquors, but I brought this bottle of Taengele Falan with me last time I was across the border."
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She nodded and placed her drink on the table. "I noticed." Smiling, she turned her attention to the group of beings that approached. Given the old Wyrm's boasts, she was curious to see who he would answer to. Surreptitiously, she sent out her magical feelers as Miri let them pass, knowing that 'the other side' would also be assessing them in turn, if not directly, then certainly by proxy. Something in the back of her mind nagged at her, and she let the mask she kept around her aura fall away; just a small gesture of good faith. No doubt the Wyrm knew and would have informed his employer, but it never hurt to have them see for themselves. Besides...she had this nagging feeling that this was more than just to negotiate an exchange. The Wyrm could easily have done that on behalf of an employer. If this was a test, she wanted them to see what she brought to the table.
She rose as Miri did, happy to follow his lead where social interaction was concerned. These were not the class of people she habitually dealt with. Knowing herself to be outspoken and blunt, she let him deal with the initial pleasanties that were usually beyond her. After briefly assessing them, she smiled and bowed respectfully to the Native South American woman, acting on a hunch that she was the mysterious patron of the Wyrm. "Thank you for coming, my lady. "
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When the door opened, the first person through was the Japanese woman, left hand upon the sheath of a blade; the only thing that changed as she moved through the door was which blade it was - at first the wakizashi, then the katana. Her eyes shifted back and forth, cataloging each individual in turn before, her eyes upon the 'bard', she gives a single, firm nod. Her vigilance, however, does not relax.
The rest follow - elf male, SoAmerInd female, human male. The last gives the greeter a brief smile before looking around the 'tavern'. "I might have gone another way," he said in a jocular tone, "but I suppose this has its draw. Tell me, how many come here who have had add-ons added on?" His attitude is perhaps meant to distract the server (and anyone else looking on) from the way the elf is holding on to the woman's arm -- the woman who is looking around at the number of people present with what can only be called mayhem in her eye. He speaks in swift, low tones, using a definitely foreign language. Her nose flares hard once, but then she nods.
The elf releases her arm, takes a step away from her, then gives her a formal head-bow before turning and picking his way across the bar to where Iceblade and Madrecita wait. Waving away the offer of liquor, he says, "Whatever in the hell gave you the idea that having an audience was a good idea?? You set up a meet on a public forum, I'd've thought you'd have the foresight to make sure to reserve a private room or something." He pauses, then tilts his head. "Or have you? Or did you??" He gestures with his chin towards the other inhabitants of the bar. "How many of these are spies for someone else? Or are they all your protection?"
He lifts up a hand, one finger extended to prevent any reply, his eyes closed. "All right. You did the job, that earns you some leeway in my book." His eyes open, and his finger points to the side, but by implication back towards the SoAmerInd woman. "In her book, not so much. She's already irate that she's coming to you instead of the other way around. Adding targets into the mix doesn't improve matters, but she's willing to go ahead with the ... discussion." He looks around, then finally says, "Turn your commlinks off. All your electronics, except that," and here he nods at the white noise generator. "Any of this gets recorded without explicit and limited permission, any of it at all, and all bets - and I do mean all bets - are off. That's not my policy, that's hers."
He turns and gestures 'come over' to the rest; the Japanese elf approaches slowly, watching half of the rest of the bar's inhabitants while the male watches the other half. As they approach, he adds conversationally to Iceblade, "Whatever gave you the idea that I don't like Tir liquors? I've been drinking and collecting fine alcohol, no matter the country of origin, since you were in short pants."
When the woman approaches and Madrecita bows to her, the AmerInd regards the Spaniard for a long moment before saying, "Replace your veil, little wolf. It matters little to me, but it may to others." Her gaze is cool, but as she shifts it to Iceblade the moment it becomes icily flensing is noticeable. She pauses, then asks him in a (perhaps surprisingly) calm, conversational tone, "Do you like it when members of that political group -- what was it, again?"
"Humanis," supplies the Wyrm wearily, rubbing the side of his face with a hand and looking like he'd just bitten into a sour apple.
"Yes, Humanis. When they wear necklaces of elf ears? Consider the wisdom of wearing such as you do," and she nods at the necklace, "at any time."
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Iceblade simply smiled at Wyrm. "The owner of the bar is a close friend and contact. Everyone here has been vetted by both her and myself. This building is under the protection of the Laesa, which in this neighborhood means the same as if you were meeting with Yakuza two doors from the Oyabun's house, and I have set up wards like this on several occasions for them, when a 'private party' is happening. You and your associates will of course have noticed some or even most of the guards and lookouts around the area. There will be no prying eyes into this meeting, whether physical or astral, and the place was last screened for bugs two hours ago. And such a meeting is far less pretentious, and less likely to draw notice, than renting out Hell at Dante's. You say an audience, I say camouflage. Of course, if your patron is used to having people come to her, then perhaps her servant should have stated a name?" Afterall, Wyrm hadn't actually told them who they would be meeting, just that his patron wanted the information they had kept quiet for a time. As he speaks, he does turn off his commlink, and other electronics, allowing Wyrm to see him do so.
As the Amerind woman speaks to him in that icy tone, Iceblade looks her over, and said, "In times past, a warrior would take a trophy from an honored foe who fell to his blade. He would do this not only to show those who he met signs of his prowess, but so that the strength of the fallen would live on inside him. Twice in my life I have been attacked by dragons. Twice, with the power of the spirits and the aid of my companions, I have been victorious, though I was left maimed and bloodied upon the battlefield when it was done. I have never hunted dragons, nor do I look any more favorably upon those who do than on those who hunt elves. But there is a difference between hunting a sentient creature down in its lair, and meeting it on the field of battle. My sister was Paladin to Prince Hestaby, and I have the utmost respect for her, and others of her kind. I wear these fangs because they remind me of two of my most dangerous battles, and in the hope that the power of the noble creatures who bore them in life might aid me in the future. But you are correct that I do not wear it openly, most of the time. I do so now because this fang," he touched the newer of the two fangs on the necklace, "came to me as we were making our escape with the information you now seek, and cost me an arm and a leg in the taking. This is a sign of what we overcame in order to secure the information."
"I do not revel in battles or death. I have killed many creatures in my short time. I remember the face of each metahuman and sapient creature I have killed, and I honor them. If you can see she follows wolf, then you must see the Shark in me. Shark does not kill needlessly or wantonly. But when blood is in the water, Shark is there. Any who fail to escape Shark's teeth are not fit to live. And one day the Shark, too, will find himself unfit, and fall to the teeth of another. That is what it means to follow Shark's path. But to say I am not proud of my victories, both alone and with allies standing by my side, would be a lie."
All the while, he stayed calm, simply stating facts, though there was a small burst of emotion at the mention of his sister. That pain would never really go away. As he finished his speech, he slipped the necklace beneath his shirt, and sat down, reaching for the bottle of liquor, and broke the seal. As he began to pour drinks for everyone, he said, "But now it comes to this. Will you sit and share a drink with us, as we discuss the matters of our mutual interest? The Wyrm here said you had information you wished to trade for information, though he did not give a name to his patron or say what kind of information that you could offer us in return for giving you what we know, and delaying its publication to the Matrix at large. Will you sit and drink? Or will offense at a warrior's pride in surviving a hard-fought and hard-won victory cause you to abandon this deal, and force us to move ahead with complying with the terms of the late Loremaster's will?"
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Xerena inclined her head at the woman and smiled. “As you wish.” Now that she knew the measure of the woman, she listened as Miri spoke, inwardly grinning. He gave nothing away, did not concede anything and still managed to deflect attention away from what could potentially have been a deadly situation...all without breaking courtesy. She did as she was asked and restored her masking, also switching off all electronic gear she carried.
“We’re not unreasonable. Nor do we carry any particular hatred of your kind.” She inclined her head to the Amerind woman, taking a risk from the woman’s reaction to the tooth. “I make a point of it not to get involved in he affairs of your kind. However, we are involved, whether we like it or not. And this does not just concern your kind, but mine as well. There is true evil in this world, and it doesn’t matter who practices it. Your kind or mine. That is what concerns us, and that is why we are here. To be perfectly blunt, the reason behind the request concerns me much more keenly than what you offer in exchange. Like I said to the old Wyrm here, this affects everyone, and I won’t be party to endangering everyone else for no good reason.” She raised an eyebrow. “He did not give me a straight answer then, suggesting instead we meet you. We don’t want to inconvenience you, but to be perfectly blunt again...we have our own interests. So. Do our interests coincide? If they do, then by all means, let’s talk business.”
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The lady spoke in a conversational tone, not icy; let us first be clear on that score. At the mention of Hestaby, there was a flicker of irritation that passed across her face, but she did not speak, allowing the male to ramble to the end of his diatribe - then the female to state her own thoughts and concerns.
The Wyrm shook his head in silent amazement, first at Iceblade's assurances, then at his defense of wearing a dragons-tooth necklace to a meet with an unknown individual that anyone of his own experience would consider a patron. He turned his head to the SoAmerInd woman and admitted, "I warned you, but I didn't know the scale. You have my apologies." Looking further back over his shoulder, he added to the human male, "Shiv, I don't think you're gonna need to be here."
The Russian (for so his accent marks him) shrugged inside his greatcoat. "I will make my own decision. For now, I stay. If, of course," and here he nods to the two females, "we are going to stay."
The Japanese fem's gaze shifted to Madrecita, then Iceblade, giving each of them a more thorough going-over before moving on. Sounding distracted, she said obliquely, "The deaths are on his head, not ours."
"Foolishness is its own punishment," agrees the SoAmerInd woman. "Very well. My concern is less with your accoutrements than with the wisdom used in displaying them. Were I to have taken offense ..." She trails off, then shakes her head. "Others will. Your hauteur is their problem, not mine."
"Pride goeth before destruction?" suggested the Wyrm.
"If you like," replied the woman carelessly, and seats herself.
The Wyrm and Shiv took flanking positions, and the former began introductions. "My Lady, may I present to you Count Mirikon Mollen, formerly Rakhi Darkholme, son of Count Karellon and Duchess Mellaneth Darkholm of Malek’thas, known as Iceblade, and Xerena Suelo Rubruquis neé Calderon, aka Moncita Caballe, known as Madrecita." He turned towards the pair on the other side of the table and said, "Mirikon, Moncita, the Lady Arleesh."
Not that they hadn't expected something like that.
He continued with his introductions. "On the other side is Piotyr Kostolitz, street name Shivowtnoeh. Sitting at the table," he nodded at the Japanese woman who indeed has selected a table almost directly at Arleesh's back, though slightly favoring Madrecita's side, "is our security consultant for the evening, Hawatari." The woman turned, smiled briefly, then turned her attention away once more, resuming her examination of the rest of the targets present.
"What," said Arleesh, looking at Madrecita, "was your question?"
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Xerena nodded, not surprised to be in the company of a dragon. It was bound to happen sooner or later, that one of their kind would act on the information she and Miri had. That was one of the reasons she'd been gone so long...to prepare should the worst come to pass.
She inclined her head politely as the introductions were made, and smiled wryly as she noted the Japanese woman's position. She leaned back in her seat and visibly relaxed until the Great Dragon turned her attention toward her.
She shrugged. "Simply this. What's your interest in keeping this conceiled for now? Like I said, this information could be vital and it needs to be acted on. By delaying its dissemination, we're risking giving the Azzies more time to prepare counter measures. You can see why I would be concerned, especially given what we know about what is behind this. I've been expecing one of your kind to call on us at some point, and it is not inconceivable that there would be some of your kind who would wish it kept quiet...for whatever reason. I need to know the motive behind the request before I can decide whether we have a basis for negotiation or not. I think I've made my position quite clear, as well as my own motives and interest in this."
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And here they were dealing with yet another dragon. Well, things could definitely be worse, all told. And they'd gotten a fairly good read on their 'guest' and her moods, which was better than most people got from a dragon without being made into a snack. But this promise of 'information for information' just got a lot more interesting. If they could actually get the wyrm to part with any information of real value. Maintaining a calm voice, he said, "I thank you for your consideration and for the warning, noble dragon, and accept them in the spirit with which they were intended. If destruction finds me, then so be it. Shark wins every fight except his last. That is the fate of all who follow the Shark. As for you, my Lady, you have a well deserved reputation for safeguarding or destroying many dangerous magical artifacts, and keeping them out of the hands of those who would misuse them, to the ruin of many. For this, I offer you thanks, humble reward as it might be."
He took a drink of his liquor as Xerena spoke, though his eyes did not leave Arleesh's face. "As Madrecita asks about why you would wish the information concealed for the time being, I must ask what information you were willing to trade for it, and that temporary silence? The lore of dragons is legendary, but so is their reluctance to pass on that lore to the 'young races'. Even President Dunkelzhan, the source from which the modern world knows most of what it does about your kind and the mysteries of the past ages, no doubt told the world only the merest fraction of what he'd come to know in his long life. So, now that we come to it, what information would one so learned and wise be willing to impart to us? You could teach us much, more than we can even imagine, I have no doubt, but what will you pass down to us?" He put just a bit more emphasis on 'could' and 'will', and kept a respectful tone, always careful to never imply that this would be a bargain amongst equals. That was something Ariana had taught him. Never imply that you are the equal of a dragon. It was a sure way to become lunch.
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Bearing the majority of the attention of a great dragon must have been uncomfortable; Madrecita was burdened with it throughout her question, then throughout Mirikon's detour. Ignoring the Tir elf's thanks, explanation of Shark, and attempt at opening the bargaining, she considers Madrecita for a few heartbeats afterwards, then speaks as is her nature - directly. "Keeping the waters clear, so that we can take care of the problem."
Relaxing enough to reach out for the slender glass of elven alcohol, she takes a moment to briefly scent the liqueur before sipping it, then putting it down in front of her and continuing. "I am told you enchant. When you do so, you must put aside all distractions in order to focus on achieving your design. So it is with this. Making such an announcement would be the equivalent of ..." Her hands slowly turn palm-up. "Making sure everyone you know will call or come over during the critical steps of creation, to distract you or accost you. The chance of failure is vastly increased.
"In the case of this information, you are the person who determines whether or not everyone comes over to jog elbows. I am here to request that you do not until the problem is taken care of by those working on it."
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Xerena nodded. Ah! So it seemed that she was right after all, and more than just Dunkelzahn had known about this. It also spoke of the danger the situation posed that action took such circuitous routes. She regarded Arleesh frankly, returning her gaze and attention, matching her outward show of relaxation. After everything she'd been through in the last twenty years, very little scared Xerena - not even her own death. It wasn't arrogance, or self-importance. She simply had nothing left to lose, and an iron will directed at achieing her goals.
"Thank you, lady Arleesh. I understand. Now, as the Wyrm Ouroboros mentioned, you had some information to exchange for our silence? He left me with the impression that there was something more to this than an exchange he could easily have handled on your behalf."
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Seeing that Arleesh didn't want to talk to him, Iceblade did the simplest thing, and shut up, leaning against the back of the booth as he sipped his drink. Honestly, if there wasn't a chance that they could get some seriously valuable info out of this meet, he'd have preferred to publish it already, and be done with it. But he wasn't going to antagonize a dragon by butting into a conversation where he wasn't wanted. So he simply closed his eyes, and listened as he drank. Still, the information they got from this would have to be very valuable.
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It wasn't Dunkelzahn, it was your own intrusion that got her the information. But that was months ago -- months to develop a counterstroke, to start putting it into place, actions taken that, should the information be revealed now, would be utterly disrupted, made moot. The ... entity in question would be certain to move to a new place of concealment.
As for Iceblade, well -- Madrecita's question lay at the core of things. If her concern could not be satisfied, then any offer Arleesh might have made would have been so much snow in the midsummer desert. Once that was over with, though, both of them were on the same page, and things could progress.
"Yes," Arleesh again stated with simplicity. "Information is perhaps not the right term. Say instead, instruction."
-
"Instruction?" Xerena asked, not bothering to hide her surprise. Recovering quickly, her mind went into overdrive. It was not often a dragon made an offer that that. "You've certainly managed to get my attention, lady Arleesh. I'm listening."
-
Iceblade's eyes opened at the word 'instruction', and one eyebrow went up. A wyrm divulging secrets was rare enough. One willing to teach the 'young races' something was almost unheard of! So, instruction in return for a delay in the publication? That could be worth it, indeed. "Indeed."
-
The SoAmerInd woman lifted the slender glass of Taéngelé for a short, delicate sip, letting the two ponder the potential riches before them as she returned the glass to the table and removed her hand from it. "Yes." She glanced at Iceblade, her expression cooling for a moment once again before she continued. "This is why your audience members are an unpleasant bother. Even such things," she gestured at the white noise generator with a meaningful flick of her forefinger, "are not proof against countering.
"Suffice it to say that if there is something of which you desire to expand your knowledge, I or one of my people is likely to be one to provide you with training. Even the esoteric deeper truths, if such is your pursuit, but understand this: to be taught is to teach, and to receive information one must first give. If you are to be taught, then you must first tell what you already know."
-
Xerena shook her head ruefully. "Not nearly enough. To give an idea, I am a fourth grade initiate. Much of my early life was spent in the medical profession, and that influenced the magic I learned. I can heal and restore the body quite well. It was only later in life that I applied magic to combat and detection, and later still that I began to seek wisdom. For the last 13 years I have devoted myself to rooting out and destroying evil, specifically in the pursuit and destruction of blood and toxic mages. Much of what I have learned in that time was geared toward that goal...but also toward a greater understanding of life and its place in the universe. Wolf teaches respect for all living things, to live in harmony with everything you share the world with, and to kill only when there is need. Toxics and blood mages...they are like the rabid coyote: a threat to all who live. I have learned much, for a metahuman, but I am acutely aware that I know only a little about each of a variety of pursuits, and virtually nothing of the whole. I am aware of the limits this places on my ability to act against evil. My devotion to this only increased after seeing what we did."
-
Iceblade met Arleesh's gaze, steeling himself as it cooled. If the dragon decided to kill him, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was no match for a great dragon, and even a normal dragon, at this range, would make short work of him. "The 'audience', as you put it, was intended as a safeguard. It encourages both sides to play nice. Though if we'd known who we were meeting, we would have arranged something more private."
At the request to tell what they knew, he nodded. "I'm not initiated, yet, though my training is as a combat mage, so the majority of my focus has gone into enhancing my abilities in combat, though I've developed those to a point where I am looking to enhance my magical abilities as well. I follow Shark, as I said, which means that when blood is in the water, I am there. Shark does not play with its food, like Cat does. The killing blow is quick, clean, and efficient. I have no desire to spread suffering, and will not leave an enemy lying with a mortal wound if I can help it. If they are past the point of healing, I end their pain. That is Shark's role. Shark cleanses the waters of the sick and the dying, the weak and the old. Shark does nothing out of malice or anger, but simple necessity. I am a killer, but I do not kill without reason."
He looked at Xerena, and then back at the dragon, "After what we've seen, I'd like to learn more. There are forces that are... ill disposed towards living creatures in general, and metahumans in particular, it seems, and I would see them rooted out and cleansed, before they can bring everything to ruin. Because what I saw to the South is a threat to everything we know, unless I miss my mark." He pulled out a pair of optical chips from one pocket, and set them on the table. He slid the first towards Arleesh and Wyrm's side of the table, and said, "As for those events, in doing my research before the run, I went to the Nexus and accessed the old Shadowland file on that land to the south. This chip contains that file. You'll find the most appropriate section on virtual pages 67 and 68. It also contains a simrig recording of what we saw, and while it does not record the astral, we did perceive, and saw what the Big D wished his 'guests' to know for ourselves. We saw the... damaged sections writhing. It is not something one could easily forget. I have seen the unmasked aura of dragons, even great dragons, and have never seen something so frightful in my life."
-
Here, perhaps curiously, the attention of the cyber-armed Shivowtnoeh came into sharper focus; though he continued to smoke (having lit up again, possibly in blatant defiance to any posted 'No Smoking' signs, with the cigarette held between thumb and forefinger, ember inside the cupped palm and concealed by his mechanical fingers) the Russian's gaze tightened on each of the two as they'd spoken. When Mirikon slid the datachips across the table, he gestured a 'let me see that' with his flesh hand, and then stretched out to slide the chip in front of Arleesh closer before picking it up and tucking it into a self-actuating chipjack in his arm. He clearly mentally scanned the information, then grunted. "Well," he said to Iceblade, "you do your research, even if you fail the self-honesty test."
The Wyrm and Arleesh, when Iceblade slid the chips over, exchanged glances; Arleesh did not prevent Shivowtnoeh from taking the chip. "I was made aware," said the woman carefully, "of that gathering and the results thereof. However ..." She looked around once again, then gave an extremely inhuman hiss of displeasure, practically under her breath. Even to the most obtuse at the table, it was obvious she still did not feel comfortable having this discussion.
"Dama," said Shivowtnoeh with the casual offense only a former Soviet can pull off without giving real offense, "I will be handling this." He pointed at Iceblade with the three mechanical fingers not holding his cigarette. "You. You can have all these people piss off, yes? Most of them, they go away, the others for you, they stay on other side of bar. Hawatari, Wyrm, they stay with them, good behavior for all. Some of what we are saying they cannot hear." He paused to take a drag on his cigarette, then continued quietly. "It is not that they are not knowing, but it is not for them ... it is not for me to be telling to them.
"This is arrangement for hearing what I offer: there is no declining this. Some of what we say, you may decide you do not want, so is arrangement, you not remember. Two of you here, so each supervises the other." From an inside pocket of his greatcoat he took an almost shockingly simple - and ancient - magnetic-tape-cassette recorder, then another almost-flat case nearly identical to the battered and scarred stainless steel case in which he kept his foul Soviet cigarettes. Once he pressed the catch release on the stainless steel case, it opened to reveal four simple and identically-clear-sided hypospray injectors.
"These two," he taps the two green ones, "are leäl. These two," the blue ones, "a variant -- ten to twenty minutes of memory loss, a minute or two unconscious. First, you agree that if you do not want what is my offer, you will take drug, which one is depends on how long we talk. You," again the three-fingered pointing at Iceblade, "supervise her, to make sure we do nothing bad, then she supervise you. If that is decision," he nudged the tape, "you make recording, telling yourself you do not want; we play when you wake up, so you are telling you that you decided no."
He looks around at the others in the bar. "I did not bring enough for all, and can not run risk of so many people. We pay bar for space - here, back room, whatever. You arrange, yes?" This last is to Iceblade.
Through this, Arleesh actually seemed to be slouching in her chair - or perhaps that was pouting, it was hard to tell. The Wyrm mostly rubbed his fingers over his eyes, looking a little resigned and a lot tired.
Hawatari, on the other hand, spent the time since the start of the 'information exchange' studying each of the two shadowrunners in turn. She'd held herself relatively still, adjusting it only when she shifted her attention from Madrecita to Iceblade.
-
Iceblade didn't hesitate as he allowed Shivowtnoeh to take the first chip, though his eyes narrowed at the 'self-honesty' dig. The second chip he left on his side of the table, nor did he say what was on it. He looked over to the Russian, and said, "I can make arrangements for a private room. I see no reason to keep the audience any more." He rose from his chair, and offered a bow to Arleesh, before saying, "It will only take a moment to make the arrangements." He looked at Hawatari, and said, "If you wish, you may come along and listen in, just to be certain that I do nothing underhanded." With that, he left the table, that second chip remaining where it sat, unmentioned.
He walked over to the bartender and spoke softly in sperethiel, though loud enough for Hawatari to hear, if she followed. [Sperethiel]"We're moving to the private room, Shanna." The bartender chuckled as her eyebrow went up, and she started to speak, before Iceblade cut her off. [Sperethiel]"No, not that one. The business room."
Shannaleth frowned slightly, and shook her head. [Sperethiel]"It isn't finished being painted! You know what a mess they made, the last time they had a 'meeting' there. Who knew Yaks bled so much?"
Iceblade chuckled. [Sperethiel]"Well, they at least covered up the blood, right? And the soundproofing is in place? The guests are more concerned with privacy than comfort, at the moment. Don't worry, the usual rate. And dinner at the Eye of the Needle when I get back from Europe."
Shannaleth giggled at that. [Sperethiel]"You charmer. All right. If they don't mind paint fumes, then the business suite is open." Looking at Hawatari, she switched to English. "Up the stairs and to the left. And watch out for this one, real ladykiller, he is."
Iceblade just rolled his eyes, "Shanna, how many times must I ask you not to spread those rumors while I'm working?"
Returning to the table, he said, "The upstairs room is ready. They were currently doing some remodelling, due to an unfortunate incident with a lost Yakuza, and so it won't be as comfortable as down here, but it is secure. If you would please follow me?"
He picked up the white noise generator (as well as the second chip, if it was still there) and headed up the stairs and to the end of the hallway at the left. Light was provided by a series of lights made to seem like torches in wall brackets. Iceblade stopped in front of the blank wall at the end of the hall, and pulled on one of the torch holders. A section of wall slid outward, revealing a small room behind. He waited to see if one of the bodyguards wished to step through first, and then entered himself if they did not. The room was soundproofed, and the walls acted as a Faraday cage. There was a single table with four chairs, and a small bed, made up with clean sheets, though a drop cloth was over it at the moment. An iron hook hung from the ceiling. The walls were half-painted, in the middle of going from a beige color, with a white primer over that (which almost disguised a large bloodstain on one wall) and a forest green color. It was clearly meant as a private meeting room that could be used to store people, either voluntarily or not.
Iceblade went to the table and offered a chair first for Xerena, and then Arleesh, assuming she didn't object to the setting. There was room for all six of them in there, though it would be slightly cramped quarters. Seemed there was more than one reason Iceblade arranged for the meeting downstairs, instead of the private room.
-
Xerena followed when Miri led the party up the stairs to the small, secured room. She noted the blood, but showed no reaction to it, smiling warmly at Miri as he offered her a chair. She surreptitiously brushed her hand over his in a gesture of support and affection as she took her seat, having noted his reaction to Shivowtnoeh's words.
With the dragon's demands for privacy met, and their tacit aceptance of the conditions under which they would talk, the ball was now squarely in Arleesh's court. Xerena regarded her impassively, merely waiting to see what would be said.
-
Hawatari looked up at Mirikon as he made his offer, and gives him a quiet, warm smile. "No need," she replied, "but thank you for your willingness." She remained alert and attentive in regarding the rest of the individuals in the bar, and though she was the first one into the room after Iceblade, (noting the blood on the wall with a small twitch of her lips) she exited and gave the 'all clear' to the Wyrm and Arleesh, after which she remained outside.
The Wyrm handed Arleesh into a chair even as Iceblade did the same for Xerena, and appeared to have missed the gesture of the latter to the former. He straightened, though, and said, "Though I'd prefer to stay, for this I'm not supposed to, so."
Shivowtnoeh gave the hacker a broad smile, to which the Wyrm replied, "Yeah, yeah, you got yours coming. See, I'm going to go finish my glass of Taéngelé - and then I'm going to drink your glass."
The Russian frowned thunderously at this, at which the Wyrm had laughed, and exited the room.
Once the door was closed, and both males had settled to their chosen seats - Shivowtnoeh to Arleesh's right - the Russian again produced both the case of leäl and its lessened cousin. "So," he said in his apparently-deliberately-thick accent. "You each must agree. Out loud. Or else Dama Arleesh and I give you some information, we set up some time to train each of you better in chosen magic, and we go on our way." He nods towards the tape recorder. "You press red button to record. Your agreement, you say to tape that if you are hearing this, you decided against what we offer. Give it a little bit after each of you, to make gap."
-
"Alright." Xerena said as she leaned forward and pressed the red button. "If I'm hearing this recording, it means I turned down an offer in favour of receiving instruction in magic only. Due to the sensitive nature of this offer, I agreed to take leäl if I turned it down. If I am hearing this, I am content with just instruction and nothing else. I say this of my own free will, under no duress whatsoever, and to reassure myself of this, the code word is Manawi."
She leaned back and looked at Miri, then back to Arleesh.
-
Iceblade settled into the chair next to Xerena, and waited for a couple beats, before saying into the recorder, [Sperethiel]"You know what has happened. You recognize the symptoms. Not the first time, not the last. But this was your idea. You agreed to the drug, after turning down the offer for more than basic instruction. You weren't under duress. Colonel Mirikon Mollen nee Darkholme, Tir Tairngir Peace Forces. Codename: Iceblade. Challenge code: Whiskey Seven."
With that, he cut off the tape recorder, and looked up at Arleesh.
-
For a long few moments after Iceblade has pressed the 'stop' button on the cassette player, the four people in the room looked at each other. The expression on Arleesh's face was ... perhaps the best word to use would be 'hawklike'. Predatory, yes, but more interested in perceiving what was truly there, as compared to what was being shown or displayed. She regarded both Iceblade and Madrecita roughly equally, then settled back and looked at Shivowtnoeh.
The Russian sighed, then leaned forward to pull the tape recorder towards him, hitting the 'reverse' button to make the thing whir for a few moments before hitting the start of the tape. "Well. Okay." Staying leaned forward, he laced mechanical fingers with natural, and looked at them for a long moment as if gathering his thoughts - or his courage. "Right. So." Finally, he looked up at the two of you and starts to talk.
"Dama Arleesh is sponsor, how you say, patron of organization that we do not talk about much. We are groups - one group, several chapters - of people who hunt bad magic. People, places, things, this does not matter. Some of us, we have had, how you say, bad experiences with magic - close call with insect spirit, lost friends to toxic magic, been corrupted for short time by focus infected with imp. We are concerned with, hmmm, taking care of such things, however possible.
"Is sometimes," he lifts the mechanical hand to flex it, "with spirit, or sword, or spell; is sometimes with lead, or rocket, or information to right people at right time. Information you take from Aztechnology, plus information we get from things you plant there for Ken, helps us with just such a threat. However, this is not what we are talking about. We are talking about what we offer you for helping us ... finalize the problem.
"We approach people who dedicate themselves to taking care of these problems. They help us, we help them. Work together to take out major threats. Help each other out when we need to. Teach each other things." He gave a small smile. "Help each other initiate."
Slowly he runs his natural hand across the surface of the table. "So. You, Ms. Madrecita, we want. We have information about your work down south, and it is very much in our line, so really, you have much to recommend you. It also helps that you have experience with, what is term - metamagics," he adds.
Shifting his attention to Iceblade, he continued. "Of you I am still not certain. Capable, yes, you are, and this is something useful to us. But proud, arrogant, not honest with others - perhaps not with yourself, I do not know this yet." He tapped the table with two mechanical fingers. "I know Shark too, see. Not in person, no, but I am seeing how Shark goes mad when blood is in water. Loses focus, loses control. Many times, loses life - or life of people counting on him. This," he tapped the table again, "this has happened to member of my team."
He paused, then added, "Judgement, too, I question. As I say, you have pride, but your pride means show off what you have done. This is not something we do. We do not talk about ourselves. We do not show off what we have done. We do what we do quiet as we can, we leave as soon as we can. If that means others take credit, that is what happens. Madrecita, she has shown dedication. You ... you do not show that, but I think you may have it."
Sitting back - though still upright - in his chair, he braced his hands against the table's edge. "So. Initiate, travel the world, meet dangerous threats, kill them. Keep quiet. Questions?"
-
Iceblade leaned back in his chair, and said, his eyes shifting between Shivowtnoeh and Arleesh, "There are two ways to keep a secret. The first is to bury it deep. But people are naturally suspicious, naturally looking for an edge. So if they do not find any dirt on you, that convinces them that there is a great deal of dirt out there, and so they dig all the harder. With respect, most dragons are the best example of this. With few exceptions, you reveal as little as you can about yourselves, and what has happened in the ancient past. This leads people to assume that there is something to be hidden, which makes them curious. The only reason more people don't go prying is because of the, shall we say, fiery way your kind have been known to deal with those who annoy them? Some of us do not have the luxuries of such fearsome reputation or ability, and so we must make do."
"Which brings me to the second way of keeping a secret. Perhaps it is ironic that what we're here to discuss involved the late President, for he was a prime example of this. The second way to keep a secret is to live as publicly as you can manage, and arrange for secrets to be revealed from time to time. Once someone's found paydirt, they tend to stop digging. So anything that is hidden deeper still... Well, no one really had any clue just how many pies Dunkelzhan had a claw in until the will was published, and even that was likely just the barest fraction of his plans."
He shrugged. "Not having the resources or reputation of a dragon, I do my best to simply divert attention away from things that I do not wish to discuss. As a former soldier and current runner, I know all about doing something, and someone else getting the credit. I have no problem with doing a run, and not talking about it. I just talk about other things, that people find much more interesting."
"Shark hears the call of blood in the water, yes. But just like any of the predatory totems, Shark will win every fight but his last. Shark is who I am. It is as much a part of me as my magic, or my blade. Few who have not heard the call of a totem can understand what it means to walk that path. But if finding magical threats and neutralizing them is the job, I'm there."
-
"Or you do your work quietly, without fuss or bother, giving people no reason to see you clearly enough to think to try to look for you. You let other, more flashy individuals take the spotlight." Arleesh's voice is quiet, an odd mix of resigned and instructive. "If people look at you, you show them what you want them to think - that you are a cog in someone else's great machine. If they seek further, they see that - because for every one person who is flashy and seeks the spot-light, there are two hundred who are simply working their job to support the person. You are bland, you are quiet, you are nobody, and this is what they find. If they discover who you really are - Hawatari outside has done this with Piotyr - then you tell them nothing, and let your choice of enemies and tasks and accomplishments define who you are. You allow them to see what they can, and find what they can, and draw what conclusions they can. You are polite, you are courteous, you give away nothing. You do the job, and you disappear."
Shivowtnoeh rubs the back of his artificial hand with the front of his natural one. "I think, Iceblade," he says, slowly, "you need to decide which will have your commitment - your lifestyle in spotlight, or this work. Some shadows are sharpest, best in spotlight; that has been you, and your experience." He nods at Iceblade, then speaks to Madrecita. "Some are best in darkness, and I think you know that one best, yes? We," and by the slight movements of his hands, his expression, it's pretty clear he means himself, the group he belongs to, and probably even Arleesh herself, "work in ... not quite darkness, but very deep shadows, with very little light around. This is somewhere I think you, Madrecita, are comfortable in. You, Iceblade ..." He waggles one hand. "Perhaps not so much. But it is how we work, so ..."
-
Xerena nodded in agreement. "Yes. Most of what I do is hidden, although some of ithave been done in the spotlight. But it is not my preference. But...getting back to this organisation of yours. How does it work? If I am to accept this offer you make, I must know if I will fit into it. I am, at this time, very much a lone wolf...although that may change in the future." She smiled slightly, glancing briefly at Miri before turning her attention back to Piotyr and Arleesh. "I like the idea of what you do, and how you do it. What I would like to know is what resources you have at your disposal...especially in terms of knowledge...and how much of that I will have access to if I joined. Are there any limits on the things we can learn? And how much additional magic can we learn? Will we also be taught how best to apply it, or are we left to...make it up as we go along? Are there any specific goals and rules besides secrecy? And how much contact will he have with our patron? I'm asking this to assess whether the knowledge and other resources you offer will make up for the additional danger we will face in your service. Miri and I...we have our totems, and they know much, can teach us much. Can you teach us more than they can, give us an advantage over those we hunt i your service that they cannot offer us? I ask this not as a challenge, or out of arrogance. I do not wish to imply that there is nothing you can offer. I merely wish to know how working with you on this will affect us. I get the feeling it may interfere with our, shall we say, regular activities in part or in full, depending on what exactly you expect of us should we agree."
-
Iceblade returned Xerena's smile, before looking back at Shivowtnoeh, and says, "I've made my oaths, and I don't break them. My current lifestyle is part of fulfilling those oaths. I do, however, have a great deal of practice in balancing these oaths and keeping them from coming into conflict. I play the role expected of me, and because of the nature of my cover, I am able to disappear for a few days, and a wink and a few insincere comments, and they believe I was off, entertaining some starlet who doesn't want the tabloids to know she needed a 'friend' over. If I go on a trip to Denver, and happen to shake a few important hands, no one thinks about it, because that's what socialite playboys do. And if when i'm gone suddenly some of those people have a better opinion of my client going into the treaty negotiations, then that's surely just a coincidence."
"I am a freelance worker, as are most who ply the shadows. I do have a few people who call on me more regularly than others, and I could not, in good conscience, forsake those vows, just as I would not consider doing the same to you, Wyrm, or Lady Arleesh. I may not follow Dog, but I do keep the oaths I make. But I do move through circles that I suspect few people who know of your Lady's goals do. As such, I may hear things that would prove of use to you, and I may say things that could spread misinformation as needed. If all your tools act and behave the same way, then you put yourself at risk, since if something is required that is outside the realm of what your tools can do, you either expend far more resources to accomplish your task, or you are forced to rely on outsiders. I am not suggesting that you abandon secrecy and stealth. Indeed, it has served you well, it seems. Rather, I suggest expanding the range of tools on your workbench, so that if a situation arises where you need some flash, you have someone you can call on without divulging secrets, even if it is just a diversion for a deeper thrust by one of the more subtle blades."
-
For a long moment, Piotyr looks at Xerena, then says mildly, "There is a lot of everything of which you ask. Knowledge, how to apply it, yes. Patron, you ask of Lady Arleesh? Depends on if you exhaust the knowledge your others have to teach. After all, this is what is being offered - knowledge, applying it, co-operation in your hunts, helping your, ah, pack-mates with their hunts. I do not think we are asking you to ... is it replace your totem that you are wondering?" He gestures with his head towards Arleesh. "Joining her did not make me surrender Svygator; it gave me additional help in applying lessons he teaches, in targeting those whom he would fight if he could."
He glances at Iceblade, then back to Madrecita. "Would it interfere? Of course. To join with others is always to interfere with your own freedom. Now, though, you must avoid many tough battles if it is surviving you wish to do. Pick and choose. Part of else what we offer is ability to ask for aid in choosing larger battles against destroyers. Working shadows for pay, no, we do not tell you, 'stop this, is bad'. Become more aware, though, yes. Answer call of your brothers and sisters, yes."
His attention shifts then to Iceblade. "Your lifestyle is your choice of manner to complete oaths. Your oaths may be kept in quiet manner as well or better than as with trumpet sounding. For all of what you claim, you are fool - fool once to think people who watch events do not see your movements and, suspecting, look; looking, they find. Fool twice, to think this Lady does not have fingers in your circles already; how is it you think we call you to this place, instead of just Ms. Calderon? Fool three times, to claim knowledge, surety, wisdom - and show none of them when the showing is of importance. You wish your flash and lights before thought; you may keep it, for we will have none."
Turning back to Xerena, he says simply, "For you, the offer is open. For you, the choice is now. Continue your hunting alone, unsupported but for those with madness in their blood," and he nods at Mirikon, to indicate his meaning, "or pursue larger prey, and return to a clearer light."
-
Iceblade shrugged, though a bit of anger finally showed through his expression. "You may not like my choices, perhaps, but they are my choices. And you'll notice that I never said your lady didn't have claws in the circles I'm in already. Merely that there are different tools for different jobs. You missed the entire point of what I was saying, and don't seem inclined to listen. For instance, constantly insulting someone throughout an interview is considered in bad taste in any civilized country. In some places, the insulted party would be well within their rights to gut you like a fish for some of the things you've said. And it is only out of respect to Xerena and Lady Arleesh that I am still sitting here, after being so consistently insulted, instead of turning you into an exhibition for my garden back home." With that, he leaned back, and looked to Xerena, waiting to see what she would do.
-
Shivowtnoeh shifts his gaze back to Mirikon. "Your choices are your own. This is your choice; you have declined our offer in favor of continuing with your fancy flashy lifestyle. I did not miss your point; it is simply counter to the way we work, because we do have other tools, other information. You want to be spotlight; you say this is useful. We do not work that way; there are others who are for the standing in the spotlight. And if you feel insult, if you believe your abilities are ready to gut me like fish, as you say, you may name time and place. Or you may strike now - do not use others as excuse for your own cowardice."
His face, throughout all of this, is as it was - bland and perhaps faintly amused.
-
Xerena sat still through the exchange between the males, glancing briefly at Lady Arleesh, wondering if the males in her society were also as fond of posturing. She shook her head, her face betraying none of her inner amusement.
She lay a hand over Miri's, and with the physical contact, a small mental link through her magic.
He may be playing games with you, and insult you, but keep your eye on the prize. At the end of the day, he is nothing but an annoyance. He is one more cog in the wheel, so to speak. Don't take him seriously. This is too good an opportunity to let slip by us. Think of all we could learn. That's worth suffering some annoyance for, yes? Besides...you can always gut him later.
She let Miri see her amusement...as well as her resolve.
She turned her attention to Arleesh. "My Lady Arleesh, I am happy to accept your offer. For me...it gives me a long-term purpose that have been long lacking in my life. Better to face the lonely centuries of life ahead of me with a clear path than to forwever be reacting to what is happening, and growing weary of life and living. Yes...I like your offer. I will gladly take it up."
She glanced at Miri, before glaring at Shivowtnoeh. "I have not heard Miri speak of his acceptance or not. Do not draw conclusions for us." She shook her head. "Men."
-
Iceblade sighed. "As I said, out of deference to Xerena and the Lady Arleesh, I won't strike you. I do not start fights in the presence of ladies. Nor do I attack those I know to be the minions of dragons without a contract or the permission of the dragon herself. I am a man who has several ties upon my loyalty already, but I balance them with care, so as not to betray any of those I've sworn oaths to. My public persona is part of those oaths, and so that will not change. Now, where Xerena goes, I go, and that also will not change. I leave it to you to decide the rest."
To Xerena, he sent a simple message, Sorry, my dear, but it has been a long time since someone was allowed to speak to me like that, without at least taking a spell for his trouble.
-
I understand, Xerena replied, half shocked at the words Miri spoke out loud. Where Xerena goes, I go...Where had she earned that from him? It reminded her of her old team, and it nearly brought a sentimental tear to her eyes. He is a rude person, and I suppose you nobles have that kind of response drilled into you.
She turned her attention back to the Russian, and Arleesh, awaiting their response.
-
"Do not let me stop you," the woman replies in regards to Mirikon's declamation of restraint, sounding like she really doesn't care about the outcome - either of some sort of duel, or of the invitations being offered. "Be aware, though, that he cheats. Cheating is wisdom coming the other way; victors write the books. It is something of which I approve; I play for keeps, as do my people."
Shivowtnoeh sighs and looks up at the ceiling at this, then gives a little grimace, shakes his head, and gets back to business. Looking at Mirikon, he says simply, "Then you will have to break one oath or the other." Shifting his gaze to Xerena, he continues. "And you misunderstand me. The Count, ah ha ha, says he keeps flashy lifestyle, there is no way around this. I think him fool and mad, but this is his choice, to keep this lifestyle. He now says this is part of his oath, so yes, I respect this, however foolish and mad I think it is. However, that oath and one I am offering are ... mmmm. Mutually exclusive, you say, yes? Other oath require spotlight; this oath require deep shadows. He has already sworn other oath, so this offer ..." He gives an eloquent shrug. "We withdraw offer from him. Not from you, however."
He slides his eyes back over to Iceblade. "So you see, you cannot follow her into this, unless she declines invitation; this offer is to each of you individually. Your first oath conflicts with ours; you must decline. Nor would we have you now; offer to you, withdrawn."
Gaze going back again to Madrecita, he adds, "You may accept or not, depending on what he has just said. Is up to you. On one hand," he lifts the mechanical one, "teachings you may receive nowhere else." He gives a slight sideways nod towards Iceblade, adding, "And possibly, should other things fall out, perhaps he can no longer keep other oath, may be available for this one." A glance sideways, too, and he adds, "Learns wisdom to temper pride. But that opportunity would require you to be able to offer it to him, as member. Which means," he adds with a sigh, "you would have to keep secret from him."
-
Mirikon simply shrugged at Shivowtnoeh's words, looking back at Xerena, waiting to see what she would say.
Not just nobles, my dear. Peace Force, as well. A member of your squad can insult you (though you could slug him for it), but when you go outside of rank and unit, then you're asking for trouble. Someone who isn't in the Peace Force at all? A brawl would be the bare minimum response. And as a noble, before the revolution killing a man for speaking to me as he is would earn me nothing more than a fine, unless he was a personal lackey of a Prince.
-
Xerena shrugged. "So, you're saying that just because he operates differently from you, you won't have him? His methods may make him visible, but I'm willing to bet that there are many things he knows and manages to keep secret. Just because you're visible in one way doesn't mean you can't keep your involvement in something a secret. I don't agree with your reasoning. I think you are wrong, and also, that you are throwing away an opportunity to gain access to circles of knowledge you may not currently have access to. Meaning no disrespect to Lady Arleesh, there are things even dragons don't know. Now, you may already have access to those things...but maybe you don't. I say that Miri have successfully kept his involvement in certain groups secret, in spite of being visible. Well...it is ultimately your loss." She looked Shivowtnoeh straight in the eye. "You suffer the same pride you accuse him of. Most males do, I've noticed..
As for me, and keeping secrets from Miri... I have learned a very valuable lesson from him: keep your private and professional lives seperate. I know there are professional secrets I don't know about - nor do I need to know them. I know him well enough to know his heart...and he mine. I can do this, and he will not question. It would make things easier for everyone to include him, as there is no one I trust more by my side when on a dangerous run.
It is for you to decide. I will accept, with or without him, but it will enhance our ability to serve you, my lady Arleesh, if both are accepted."
-
"I have the power of the veto," replies the Lady, "not the power to require admittance. To force the groups to admit someone so dead-set against their own practices ..." She gestures sideways to the Russian.
Shivowtnoeh gives a long-suffering sigh. "You are self-initiated, yes? You, either of you, have worked with people, spoken to them, about how group works, yes? To act in certain ways is to damage links with astral contacts - makes them less useful, less favoring of you. To be in spotlight the way he is," and he nods at Mirikon, giving no indication that he cares that talking about the Tir elf in the third person right in front of him is rude, "is not good for how we have our oaths given. And yes," and he shrugs, "it is style I do not like - which maybe you call pride, which is something you can do, but little lone wolfs have their own pride too, hmm? Is not male thing only."
He waves his hand. "Your bitching is away from point, misses point entirely. This is not only service to Lady, it is working together. Working together in magic means you have similar ways of working, or things are much harder. We are not going to change entire way for just one person, no matter how well-linked in normal world he is; this disrupts entire working. This works for us for many years, and we are not going to be changing it.
"So." He sits forward again, lacing flesh with plastic. "He is no, she is yes." Shivowtnoeh nods down to the cases. "I think the blue would be best - we have not spent so much time as that."
"Not yet," says the Great Feathered Serpent, clearly to Shivowtnoeh's surprise. Her gaze is upon Mirikon, but clearly not sharpened to the level which 'it is known' that the Great Dragons can bend their thought - intent but not, ah, probing, shall we say. "Your mate suggests you wish to serve. Is this true? And to what depth is this desire set?"
-
Iceblade twitched slightly at yet another insult from the Russian, but didn't say anything. When Arleesh spoke to him directly, he bowed his head, and said, "It is not my custom to speak so openly, but my sister, who loyally served Prince Hestaby until her death, told me that one should never lie to a dragon, for they always know. From what I've heard here today, the work you do is work well worth doing. As I have said, I have sworn Oaths, some binding beyond the limits of my own personal honor, but even the ones without the weight of magic behind them I would not betray lightly. I am Count Mirikon Mollen of Tir Tairngir and a Colonel in the Peace Forces, and I have sworn to protect the Princes of that land, and the country itself. Since events following the Crash, I have been living in Seattle. As I have said, I play the noble in plain sight, and the combat mage in the shadows. Both roles are a part of my oaths, as part of a deeper cover for my service to the Peace Force. I balance these roles with care, and I do not betray the trusts put upon me, whether it is a promise for discretion from a client I'm escorting for a night, or the secrets of the runners I work with, or the jobs I do for my 'handler' here in the city. If you would have my service, I will balance my duties to you as carefully as I do these. I take any oath I make seriously, Milady Arleesh."
"Yes, I wish to help you with this task of destroying magical threats. As I said, a task like this helps me in my other oaths. Also, I wish to be by Xerena's side. Wolf and Shark hunt alone, but together we have done some amazing things. And I would protect her with my life. But I cannot, and will not, forsake my vows. Even should it mean my death, I will not break a vow I've given. So yes, I wish to serve, but there are limits to what I am able to do."
-
The woman's expression becomes slightly sorrowful for a moment, and she says in a voice with an equal touch of the emotion, "Wolf is not meant to hunt alone the way the shark is. You have other oaths to fulfill, then - very well. I will speak in brief to you afterwards." She gestures to Shivowtnoeh, who nudges again the case, indicating the blue-colored injectible.
-
Xerena nodded. "Maybe not, my lady...but it is sometimes necessary that we hunt alone. I will accept your offer and join your organisation."
(OOC: Not sure if Xerena is supposed to take any drugs going forward?)
-
Iceblade reached out, and took the blue pill with a nod to Xerena, before going to sleep under the effects of the drug.
-
Shivowtnoeh watches Mirikon self-inject the drug, watches it take hold, and then stands as the male elf slumps into the unconsciousness. Speaking as he comes around and checks Mirikon's pulse, he says, "Very well. There is address ... hold on." He fishes in an inside pocket of his jacket for a moment, then produces a business card. "Memorize this," he says, handing over the card before making Iceblade a bit more comfortable and removing the injector from his slack grip, collecting the remainder in the case.
Stepping around the table, he takes the recorder and, looking down at it for a moment, fast-rewinds past the start of Mirikon's statement; hitting play, Yelena hears the end of her own, "..to reassure myself of this, the code word is Manawi." He presses the 'off' button, and puts it back onto the table, sliding it over in front of Mirikon to find as soon as he wakes up - which should be shortly. Then he nods at Madrecita, holding out his mechanical hand for the card. "Be there any time in the next two weeks. Unless Hell comes to call, in which case add a day or two."