"Deathless Idol" [Quest Thread]

[Bregan [Famine]]

((Obviously, the lyrics Coin is singing aren't my own. Well, semi-obviously. This is the quest thread for number four on the Wall, and is currently open to anybody. I have some helpers on the way, but I'm more than happy to meet some people from around here in character.

I'll follow up with something more useful shortly.))

Sweat running down his face, the pale man pushed himself to his feet and faced the crowd.

His sharp green eyes burned with an almost unnatural fire in the dim room, as though lit from a jaded fire inside his skull that nothing in this world could hope to extinguish. Swaying absently to the distant strains of the music a set of local players had been press-ganged into playing, the lithe singer bared his flawless teeth in a mad grin to the crowd that filled up the bar. His close-fitting clothing seemed altogether out of place in such an atmosphere, where even appearing half-dressed and half-clean were considered to be a bit posh, but he hardly cared...they existed for his sake; not the other way around. Tugging on the loops of tattered black cloth that coated his right arm, he turned his back to them, raised the projector to his lips, and breathed in.

He screamed.

"This is, for you and I your hopeless case,
You never were, you never were!
Leave me in your words to fall every time,
Every time I try, Every time you...
Talk about talk about it!
At least it makes you feel so bad, inside!
Here is where we stand, Feels like we stand!"

Whipping across the raised stage, snakelike, the singer howled for the audience; drank of the emotion that bled so openly from their bodies. These men-all of them thugs, brutes, and bastards to the core-were mindlessly giving him their still-beating hearts without a single thought or care, if only he would never, ever stop.

He was their idol; one carved out of nothing more than screaming flesh and bone.

"Oh god!
Everything everything, all around me is dropping, in my fate;
Everything everything, all around me is crumbling at my feet!
I stare so delicate and saved,
Everything I saved myself from!
I stare so delicate and staved!
This is for you and I, your hopeless case."

Snapping his head to the side, he spat a thin wad of saliva into the depths of the assembled lowlifes. They loved it. Raising the speaker to his lips, the man offered them a brief wave and a smile.

"Thanks very much. My name is Coin. Goodnight."

Dropping the device, he hopped off the platform and, with as much grace as one of his station was entitled to in the moment, legged it up the back stairs to his room.

He had their attention now, at least, and that was a good thing. With the brief hero-worship that would come after tonight's performance, it would be the easiest thing in the world to milk information on the new organization from the patrons. A pack of any-dirty-job marauders like these were usually smart enough to be tight-lipped, but (to his decided advantage) too dumb to understand when they were being greased up with anything but hard, cold cash.

Besides, if the men weren't willing to talk about it...well...women had a soft spot for men who could sing.

[Bregan [Famine]]

"That," remarked a soft voice from behind him, "was pretty interesting."

Stripped to the waist in the dim light of his rented room, Coin tensed visibly at the words of the intruder, as if caught in the act of something far less reputable than changing his shirt. Woven between the curving bones on his right arm like a grim, dark tapestry, the shredded strands of faded black cloth trembled for a moment before falling limp, as though they were in some way living extensions of the pale man's wasted arm. Clenching his hands into fists, the Baron let out an audable sigh and turned to face the intruder.

Standing nearly as tall as he was, the lamplight in the hallway outlined the girl like a gaudy halo, playing across the thick curls of her brassy hair to make her resemble nothing so much as an angel of the dawn. Of course, given the fact that she was alone and had more than two strips of cloth in the way of clothing, the man could hardly imagine her as anything so kind and pure. At the very least, the establishment was surprisingly metropolitan in its views on women; in that they were the very same as upon men: if they could handle themselves and hold their own, they were than welcome to come around. Her eyes, her stance, and the teasing way that she held the eight-inch knife in her hands were all signs that the woman had taught people to respect her a long, long time ago.

Offering her a smile that he truly hoped was charming, Coin considered the unfortunate distance between where he was standing and his fencing gear. Even if, strictly speaking, the knife wasn't designed to be thrown, the six scant feet between the two would make it an invalid point. Scrambling for his weapon was a no-go, so at the moment had had little choice but to play along and just pretend that his life was in no way being directly threatened.

"Well thanks. So is that a knife in your hand, or are you just happy to see me," he asked, arching an eyebrow and shifting the majority of his weight to one hip.

"In fact," she continued, ignoring his question, "what I think is even more interesting is that you're still alive, given who you are and the show you just put on."

"Really? Unless my memory has gotten a lot worse than I thought, I'd say this is the first time I've ever met you. So just how would you know who I am, then," he inquired dryly, running his tongue briefly across his lower lip.

"You're right: I don't know who you are, 'Coin'. But I'm well aware of what you stand for at the moment, and what the people who you've been in contact stand for. You know...I guess it's a little funny, but that whole production you did downstairs is probably the whole reason you're still alive."

"It IS my name, you know," he remarked moodily at her half-mocking emphesis on his unusual name.

"I'm sure," she replied. Moving deeper into the room, the uncertain assassin knocked the door shut with one of her long, leather-wrapped legs. Without taking her eyes-or her knife-away from her captive, she clicked the tarnished security bolt into place.

"Anyway," she continued, "like I was saying, the very fact that you're behaving so strangely is why you're still around. Normally, with people like myself, secrecy is the currancy of choice. Thus the phrase 'honor among thieves', if you're a literary man," she said, taking up position next to one of the two large windows in the chamber.

He was; he had, but he was in no way going to inform her that he was shocked that a woman in her profession could even read. Thiefsign, a halfway complex pseudo-alphabet of signs and symbols in every major city, was often what lived in place of every day English with her ilk.

"You...didn't seem to care, though. In fact, you did everything possible to make all your actions as open as possible to the people that I'm sure you knew would be watching. That either shows you to be dangerously stupid, or unusually clever. You come into town from nowhere, and not even the professional agents have half a clue as to where you left from...that hints at a lot of interesting things."

She smiled at him, then, and in a way that was by all means welcome.

"And I'm a girl who likes interesting men."

There was a brief, uncomfortable moment when Coin wondered if he should take his pants off. Luckily, she saved him the effort of deciding. Dark skin making her all but a ghost in the moonless night, she came to him, dropping the knife and placing her strong arms around his chest. As their lips crushed together, he fancied he could taste the things that all dreams of a certain nature were made of.

Unfortunately, that list seemed to include a rather potent sedative.

[Daemiendrake]

"Royalty. All of my misadventures stem from my royal upbringing." Daemien thought to himself as he watched the assassin slip up the stairs after the performer named Coin. He had been trained to spot assassins by his tutors, seeing as how being a prince put his life in danger every day "Now i just have to figure out what i'm going to do."

He ordered another ale, drank it swiftly and then started towards the stairs. A pair of ferrets ran out from under the table and deftly climbed onto his shoulders as he moved. His silken clothes, all black including his cloak, and his silver skin made him stand out here. It didn't help him that he moved with a grace inherent to royalty. He just figured that people wouldn't pay him any mind because of how he was dressed. And if they did, well his sword may be extremely decorative, but he knew how to use it. He slid up the stairs slowly, staying well behind the woman. He watched as she entered the performers room.

"Well best course of action seems to be waiting. If she kills him then I apprehend her. If she doesn't I can just walk away." He whispered to the ferrets, who seemed to bark in agreement. He then settled down on the top stair and watched the door intently, hoping the assassin wouldn't come back out. Well not alive at least.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting for a full year. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to Scara Brae.