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 *-Schisms-*

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ashblackstar
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Posts : 59
Join date : 2010-03-22
Age : 32
Location : San Antonio Tx

Character sheet
HFS Name: Shaheena
Kingdom: Shadowmist
Class: Assassin, Bard, Warrior, Druid, NonFighter

PostSubject: *-Schisms-*   Wed Sep 07, 2011 11:16 am

Danica stormed into a seedy tavern, looking around for a moment, before stalking to the bar. “Where is Daemon?” she growled at the hapless bartender, “I know he has a tendency to drink here, and I need to speak with him right now!”

“He's over there, in the corner. Now can I get ye somethin' to drink?” He pointed to the far back corner. She turned to look, and went pale with anger, as she took note of the buxom blonde barmaid sitting in Daemon's lap. She walked over, grabbed the girl by the arm and unceremoniously dumped her on her rear. “Where is the runestone?”

The self-stylized master thief allowed a scowl of displeasure skitter across his face for just a moment as the former clerk proceeded to make a scene. She had never before publicly acknowledged any connection to him, and he wondered if it was an smart move

now. Even in this den of scum and ne'er-do-wells, the old adage of "every man has his price" is not just good advice, it was the absolute truth. All it would take is a decent hand of coin to loosen the right lips for the wrong people to find out that the Queen was publicly discussing business with one of the leaders of the Mistwalkers Thieves Guild. This had the potential to make things difficult for all of them rather quickly. Thankfully she had the forethought to change into something appropriate for the location, but he wasn't about to take any chances that someone would recognize her. While he could change his appearance to befuddle people, her ability to disguise herself wasn't as reliable or magically enhanced. While he wanted to say "Hang on to your knickers, you'll get your turn," what came out was significantly more appropriate.

"Might we take this some place a bit more personal, love?" He asked as he grabbed her hand and fell backwards through the shadows.

There was a flop room he kept just above the tavern here to hide out in when things got a little too intense or when he needed a place to prepare for a job on this side of Outer Shadowmist. He intentionally kept the room unlit to ensure that there were always ready shadows for him to use here. Only the moon lacing through the shutters provided any light to the sparsely adorned room, containing a very simple bed, a locked and trapped chest with some spare gear for his heists, and a simple dresser and washbin. The only concession to the room that made it more then it seemed was the mirror above the dresser that he had previously only used to ensure that he looked magnificent. As with his shadow-hopping powers, his ability to magically disguise himself was also beginning to falter, so he had to resort to skills long unused to ensure that even if his magical abilities failed him, he was still prepared to make himself scarce using more mundane techniques. It was to this room he teleported them into, not only because it was convenient, but with all the odd magical happenings, he didn't place much faith in his powers to teleport them much further than that. A fact which he wanted to keep to himself. Making sure to give a deft twist at the last moment to ensure a rather ungraceful landing for his traveling companion onto the bed, she landed with an undignified flop onto the hay stuffed mattress face first. That oughtta clam her up for a second or two. She came up in sputtering rage, flinging barely intelligible insults at him mercilessly. When her stream of scathing and rather unflattering comparisons of his intelligence and manhood died down to the point where he could once again hear the nightly festivities in the tavern below, he interjected his own comments.

"Are you daft, woman? I think that crown is causin' your prized mind to cease its workin', 'cause you might have just lined us all up for the gallows!" Ineresting....a detached part of his mind observed, I didn't know she got red all the way down there. She was not taking his apparent insubordination very well. "Whad'ya think'll happen if certain people found out you were slummin' down here lookin' ta pick a bone with me?" Since she hadn't interrupted him yet, he figured that he'd better make his point quick before she completely regained her wits and resumed to verbally beat him around again. "Now to answer your question before you start firin' off the catapults again, the stone is safe, and that's all you need to know for now." He knew that answer wouldn't suffice, but it was all he had to give her at the moment to buy himself time to come up with a better answer. He had the runestone with him, but he had just started to toy around with it, and he wasn't about to give it up until it was necessary, or he got bored with it.

She glared up at him, her skin flushed almost as red as her hair. Pushing herself up from the bed, she took a moment to gather her dignity, and reign in her temper. "Those stones are dangerous. If you are so worried about having your neck stretched, then think on this for a minute. There is a wizards lab that was buried in molten rock because they did the wrong thing with one of those stones. The wizard managed to escape unscathed, but his poor assistant is barely holding on, and if he happens to survive, he will be horribly scarred." She paused to cross the room to the small mirror, and readjusted her hair into a semblance of order "I would hate to see you having to use that eyepatch for it's intended purpose."

Daemon flashed her a cunning smile which he knew would not have the same effect on her that it would have on other women, but he had to play his part. "What's life without a lil' danger, bookworm? There's a difference between doin' something risky just for the fun of it, and just doing sumthin' plain'ol reckless like. Like the Queen walkin' down to an ass end tavern and accostin' a well known thief."

"Aside from the fact that not one of those people down there have ever seen me before, even if they had, at least half of them are on my payroll, and nobody would believe them anyway." She turned and ran a cooly appraising glance over him and spoke in a voice that sent chills down his spine "And one other thing, if I ever find you with another woman again, I will make sure you are singing soprano for the rest of your life."

"You'd still hafta catch me first, luv," he said with a sweeping bow as he sank down into the silhouette of the bed, off to some other dark corner of Outer Shadowmist.

She watched as he disappeared and then smiled coldly. "Oh trust me Daemon, I'll find a way. It's been done before, and it can be done again." She turned and walked out of the room, making her way downstairs. She walked calmly up to the barmaid, and laid her flat on the floor with two well placed fists, one to the gut, the other to the nose. She turned and stalked out to her horse, leaving the barmaid gasping for air, and gushing blood from her broken nose. She hauled herself up into the saddle and left the tavern behind, making her way to a tunnel into the keeps cellar. Leftover from the reign of Ragnar, the tunnel had been overlooked after the people had succesfully taken the kingdom back. She made her way into the cellar, swiftly changed and made her way up to the kingdom archives, a certain document from the reign of Shaheena in mind.

Meanwhile, a short distance away from the tavern, Daemon perched upon a rooftop long after Danyica had ridden away. Something in that night's events had set him on edge. Something was changing, and it wasn't just the way magic had been working. It was his natural ability to sense these changes in the ebbs and flows of life that was his real strength, more so than any of the wild magic gifts he had recently discovered. Without completely thinking about it, he had taken out the runestone from his jerkin pocket. The arcane runes engraved into the face of the stone glimmered as the moonlight danced through the flawlessly clear crystal that the stone was made of. It was vaguely shaped like a stylized "S," but made of a crystal so perfect and flawless that the only way one could see it was the slight warping of the curved corners, and the light being refracted off of the runes. At times, it was warm to the touch like a gentle summer breeze. Other times it was so cold, to handle it for more the an eyeblink would surely cause frostbite. And it fairly radiated power, so much so when he held it in his hands, his teeth felt like they were buzzing. Surely a relic such as this would ensure that he would remain nearly uncatchable when his powers failed him entirely. The clerk-queen would see it weighed, measure, quantified and cataloged before even attempting to put it to use. With the way that magic was deteriorating, he doubted if there would be any chance to use it before the Kingdom was falling down around her ears. Maybe that was what he was feeling tonight, like rats when a ship is due to sink. The analogy made him smile at the implications. She had lorded his weaknesses and secrets over him since they first met, only now to have her in the situation to be the one to lose out. But he wouldn't deal his hand just yet. Something this grand would deserve a properly dramatic presentation. He stashed the runestone away in his jerkin pocket as he dropped down from the rooftop into to the shadows, only to hop out of an alleyway a few buildings down. There was much work to be done to prepare for this, possibly his greatest trick yet. To steal back his destiny from the one person who stood in his way. His steps were light as he strolled down the street, and while a corner of his mind wondered if the runestone had anything to do with it, the rest of it was preoccupied planning mischief. What he couldn't have seen was the slight glow coming from the runestone stashed away...

****

Why buy things when it's so much more fun stealing them? Daemon mused to himself while he perused the wine cellar of some lesser noble's estate in Central Shadowmist. The Lord's son and his guests were deeply asleep upstairs after their mid-spring celebrations, assisted by not only the copious amounts of drink, but the sleeping tonic he had slipped in them. He had the run of the place to himself, as even the rest of the servants had partook of the good host's generosity, albeit without his knowledge.

This particular noble was known for his fine tastes in food, which is why Daemon had chosen this home as his mark. The timing of the party was pure luck, but it afforded the thief much entertainment. He could have easily waited another day or so and purloined the goods in the depths of the night with just a few groundskeepers and maids to get past. The recounting of this job would be much more entertaining when he would tell his audience that he managed to pinch the goods with the good lord's son snoring the night away barely dressed in a rather compromising position with two of the most homely looking of his lady guests, similarly undressed.

The setup of presumed tryst had been his doing, but the sleeping tonic when mixed with the wine did seem to had the unexpected side effect of making everyone very friendly while removing all regards for personal boundaries and propriety. Then again, that could be just another party for this particular lordling he wasn't sure. Either way, he was sure his staging would give the twenty or so other guests similarly unconscious upstairs plenty to talk about when the found the lordling and his bedtime friends in the foyer in the morning. Even better if the Lord and Lady arrived home before anyone else had awoken.

He shook his head free of his musings. If he wanted to have enough time to also purloin something obscenely valuable, he had better make haste in choosing some finer fare for his "apology dinner" with Danyica. She had treated him like she always had after some perceived mistake on his part, by being cold and distant. While it was a welcome change of pace from her usual attitude of sweet condescension, he knew that if he didn't come up with some way to "acknowledge" his mistake, that she would find some trite favor for him to accomplish that would be a gross waste of his talents. So here he was, purloining some of the best wine and cheese in town in an attempt to appeal to her finer tastes. And if he played his cards right, after a proper way to finish such a fine evening, he would have unfettered access to her personal quarters. That is where his real work in reclaiming his future would begin. With the help of a little magical trinket on loan from Sirhan, he would be able start stacking the deck against the Clerk-Queen
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