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Thread: [Closed]~A Haidian in Ettermire...~

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    [Closed]~A Haidian in Ettermire...~

    ( This thread is closed to Storm/Shin and any other invited participants. Thank you all for understanding!!! Haidian Saga This thread follows up on the linked thread and is part of an on-going series. Thanks again.)


    Jake Narmonalya's image burned into my head...

    I submitted myself to the torture of Morguk the Krem. For my failure I endured hours upon hours of horrible torture that was rightly deserved. I made a mistake and let The Boss down...never again. Jake stole something from me...and one day I would make him pay for that. But most importantly...The Thief stole from The Boss. Such an act would never be forgiven.

    I just got my right to service in The Boss's ranks after the horrible torture was up.

    I spoke not of it to my comrades...they merely looked at me with saddened eyes and at the same note a deep and profound respect.

    The Boss's torture methods were renown as being tremendously horrible and I endured to the best of my capacity. Without complaint as The Boss unleashed his fury upon me for failure. Such was the ultimate price of failure...No matter who you were.

    I knew in The Boss's eyes failure created setbacks and I accepted my fate as if I were little more than dirt...

    ...Such was my fate.
    Morguk looked at Nosdyn after a week time had passed. "You're a tough bastard, I will give you that Nosdyn." Morguk suddenly extended his hand towards Nosdy and helped him stand up. "Most would have broken by now."

    "I am Haidian...my Master." Nosdyn said quietly. "I am not most." Nosdyn stood up, his knees were shaky and he looked at The Boss with glazed over eyes. Nosdyn awaited the next strike to come...but it didn't. It never did.

    The Boss tossed a towel at Nosdyn.

    "Clean yourself up. I have wasted enough time here. I have a job for you when you're ready, come see me in the Meeting Hall." The Boss had a smile on his face as he left the torture chamber.

    ***

    Nosdyn stood in the Meeting Hall for a long moment. His eyes were narrowed, he'd undergone an intense torture barrage for his failure with the Jake Narmonalya situation. The Artifact at hand was chalked up as a temporary loss and would be recovered at a later date. Nosdyn looked at The Boss who spoke to the gathered followers.

    "I have gathered you all here today to hand out jobs and various missions. You all will be busy for a few weeks recovering this or that. But for a select few of you there will be a special job I have in mind. For those of you speak with me when the meeting is over and I will discuss the details of The Job." The Boss ended the informal meeting and gave out various envelopes to his subordinates...

    ***

    Nosdyn looked at The Boss once the meeting was over. "You want me to go to a specific meeting place?" Nosdyn realized that he would probably do shit work for a while after his failure...but it was his burden and he would face it well.

    The Boss nodded. "The Meeting is with a very special individual in my network. He will have further instruction for you. You are to go as soon as you are ready and Nosdyn...go alone. I will not take kindly to another failure from you." The Boss said.

    Nosdyn bowed and went on his way to meet up with the connection....

    (Feel Free to make up the meeting spot as we go. I will have Nosdyn arrive there so we can continue on the job at hand. Thanks all for your participation!)
    Fear. Fear is my weapon.
    Fear, anger, cruelty, these I bestow upon you. My chosen Death Knight.-Arthas
    ~Nosdyn Krotar~
    ~Scary Mask~

  2. #2
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    Alerar. How do they have all this shit? Bunch of high and mighty elves that seem dim as a burned bulb. Not one of them can handle a drink, and have all the social grace of a fourteen year old with a boner. Morons.

    In truth, Ettemire was the high-water mark for technology in all of Althanas, and bustled with steam engines, plumes of smoke, and the bustle and clang of moving metal. Storm Veritas was an authentic aristocrat in Radasanth, a leader of men in Whitevale, and altogether out of his element in the lands not called Corone. The lands of non-humans were ill-equipped to handle him, however an opportunity to import technology was too good to pass up, particularly given the coins involved.

    My own blueprint, my own airship. Sure make that 4-day ride to the port feel a lot smoother. Attila could use the rest.

    Outside the smooth-faced carved wood tavern, Attila, the great and heavy black stallion, fed mercilessly at a high stack of hay as he eyed the passing dark elves with a careful regard. These were mean creatures, and Attila fit right in amongst them. It was likely the horse welcomed harassment as an opportunity to plant a heavy iron shoe in the chest of one of these sinister passerby.

    Inside the same tavern, the cold air wrapped its way around Storm, who sat idly as he worked a tall glass of something the barkeep had falsely advertised as beer. It was tall, and golden, and somewhat cold, but the alcohol content was low and the flavor was little more than that of stagnant, soured water. Sadly, the Royal Ettermire Alehouse was the only bar in town, albeit nearly abandoned.

    These people suck. Only bar, after dinner midweek, and not a soul to tip a drink with. Screw these elves.

    Storm leaned back in his chair, his fine linen shirt soft under his fingertips as he adjusted his collar before running fingers through his hair. He had no idea how long this newcomer would take to show up. Would he finish his drink? Finish six? If nothing else, the gold content of Coronian Crowns went far in Alerar, for all of their technology. He took a break from his drink to snap his fingers above the small bowl of his cherrywood pipe, breathing in the delicious aroma of tobacco and allowing it to float about his mouth and throat.

    “Shee…. So sweet. Brings me back home every time.”

    “Sir, I’ll kindly ask you to smoke outside.” A small hand with long, thin fingers had summarily planted itself upon his lean, athletic shoulder.

    “Excuse me? There’s no sign posted. No rules in town that I can see. Hell, I saw the barkeep pop a small cigar while I was chewing my way through that affront that you called a steak earlier… what was that?” Storm’s face began to tinge red as his eyes narrowed at the elf he turned to: a tall, unforgiving being with a long nose and dismissive gaze.

    “The rules are mine to create and enforce as the executor of this establishment. Now again, I’ll politely ask you to douse your smoke or take it outside. I won’t ask nicely again, human.”

    How few of us very special people float through town for this son of a bitch to be so goddamned stupid?

    Storm stared directly into the chest of the looming goliath, his focus on the thick bracelet of the arrogant, stoic merchant trying to bully him. The whole thing was simply too easy. With a small, casual wave of his hand, he produced a vicious wave of electromagnetic energy, which pressed the bracelet into the flat stomach of the towering elf, before lifting him off the ground by the field surrounding said hand at his navel.

    Aghast, the owner of the pub floated two feet from the ground by his hand, helpless and wrought with fear. Storm spoke with a slow, defiant deliberation.

    “I’ll kindly ask you to suck my dick, asshole. Get cute again and you’ll force me to get creative on you. You won’t like CREATIVE. Now get me some top rack whiskey, neat, and make it snappy, you skinny little chickenshit.”

    He opened his hand and released a second pulse, firing the owner across the room as the four or five other occupants jumped back axially from where Storm had stood. If they hadn’t known who he was before, they did now.

    If Alerar didn’t realize that evil had arrived at their doorstep, it would know soon enough.
    Last edited by Storm Veritas; 03-20-17 at 09:48 PM.

  3. #3
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    And so...

    Nosdyn looked up at the establishment...it was called the Royal Alehouse. This is the meeting place...? Nosdyn half expected to meet the stranger he was going to meet in foreboding alley of some sort or another. However, the establishment was one of those upscale Drow buildings that had all the pomp and pretenses that Nosdyn had grown to despise of the Drow themselves.

    However, Nosdyn respected the word of The Boss...his word was law.

    He heard a commotion from his position outside of the establishment. When he felt a particularly powerful presence inside...The Haidian figured that was likely the contact. Nosdyn immediately rushed into the building as he heard the argument between Storm Veritas and the goliath man he floored. Nosdyn frowned. Nosdyn heard the flowery language that Storm Veritas used, and identified the thick Corone accent that the man spoke with.

    Storm was dressed in fine clothing which made Nosdyn immediately think that the man had money...money meant power and influence.

    Nosdyn immediately approved of the stranger's mannerisms. I like his style...he works effectively. Nosdyn saw how the Drow reacted to the man's display of power. They respect power...sometimes fear is a form of power too. Nosdyn nodded. He knew Storm's name from what The Boss had told him. He walked over towards Storm's table. "You are Storm Veritas, are you not?" The Boss had given him the intel he needed to identify the contact.

    "I am Nosdyn Krotar. The Boss sent me out here to meet up with you...there are matters that need to be discussed." Nosdyn spoke with a deeply accented voice, and had a raspyness to his voice as well. He spoke confidently despite that. The blue skin of the Haidian immediately marked him. He also had glowing yellow eyes...something that was quite hypnotic of The Demon. Nosdyn motioned to an empty chair at Storm's table.

    "May I take a seat?" He asked, though a Demon...he was still well mannered when the situation called for.

    Eyes were upon Nosdyn and Storm at that point but nobody dared approach...
    Fear. Fear is my weapon.
    Fear, anger, cruelty, these I bestow upon you. My chosen Death Knight.-Arthas
    ~Nosdyn Krotar~
    ~Scary Mask~

  4. #4
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    In the aftermath of filling up the bartender’s heavy work pants with a steaming pile of ”what the hell did I do?”, Storm sat passively and sipped gently at the whiskey that was poured for him. It was better than the beer, or whatever that thing was called, but worse than any liquor he’d tasted on the cool, comfortable taverns of Whitevale. Still, a certain satisfaction in putting another one of those others who looked down their nose at a human added a fair sweetness to his drink.

    Moments later, he was joined by a bizarre form. The timing of the newcomer was impeccable. This blue skinned alien – well, to Storm this stranger was an alien, anyway – was oddly polite with a bizarre inflection. Fortunately, he spoke Common, dressed at least cleanly, and had an entertaining sort of mullet – a fine blend of short cropped hair and ponytail that would have opened for multiple jokes had the wizard known friends at the bar to laugh with. Despite his obviously loud tone, this stranger seemed harmless enough.

    “Hell of a whisper you have on you, son. Nosdyn, is it?” He didn’t wait for an answer; the formality of his new company would take too long if he was a demon to satisfy Storm’s pace. “Yes, my name is Storm Veritas. Just got a fresh one, care for a beer or something for the road? What’s your poison?”

    With a quick, annoyed pivot, the electromancer focused razor sharp, ice-cold eyes on the bartender, who had moved back to explaining to some kitchen help that sneaking up on the incoming villain with knives and tenderizing hammers was a decidedly terrible idea. He was gesturing to his bracelet as he pointed to the utensils, capturing a glance back to the troublemaking patron who was staring at him.

    Caught you, there, Seamus. For all you know I’m going to kill you all. Play nice.

    Softening his glare, Storm pointed quickly to the azure-hued hellspawn, following his indicator with the universal open hand around the lips of “get him a drink”, and closed with a smile. This was fun. He liked to have fun.

    A moment later, a confused and terrifying looking female elf emerged, tall, sinewy and attractive. Aside her exquisite disposition, her large carrying platter barren save a second shot of that throat-scorching whiskey and a porcelain crucible of something green and glowing, with steam pouring over the edges. Was she going to pour acid on him (or, more accurately, die trying to pour acid upon him)?

    With a smile, she lowered the crucible slowly in front of his new friend, her hand shaking with nerves as she rattled the porcelain upon the heavy wood. With a gentle, glowing smile, Storm took her empty, clammy hand and filled it with a pair of silver crowns. A nervous smile, an awkward curtsy, and she was off like a shot, leaving the tandem to drink.

  5. #5
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    The question from Storm hung in the air for a moment between the two creatures.

    Nosdyn listened to everything the calculated man said before, analyzing every spoken portion of him.

    The golden eyed Haidian was a thing of many dispositions and hungers. Poisons...? He probably means tastes...I have many... Nosdyn thought to himself as he looked at Storm calmly. The man generated power, and power swelled off him touching the very air with aether energies. The Boss has such skill...I will too...someday. Nosdyn thought to himself, and he immediately decided that he respected Storm Veritas. The legends pale in comparison to the man before me...

    "My poisons...that's something I haven't really thought too much about. Just follow The Boss's orders. He told me you had some work for me or something of that nature...I was told to arrive so here I am." Nosdyn said calmly. "If you need a soldier at your side for this or that operation...consider me interested." Nosdyn was a tactical minded individual. He tried to be ahead of the enemy at all times. Working for The Boss of the underworld exposed one to a LOT of enemies. Nosdyn looked at the Elf that placed their drinks and food on the table. He looked at her with his hate filled eyes...but she did not recede. Not even once. These Elves...disgusting creatures. Think they are so brave and courageous... Nosdyn grabbed a decent looking goblet off the tray. He smelled it for a moment, sniffing for poisons and other dangerous scents.

    The drinks and food appeared...clean. The smell of the drink was a rather fine scent as well, a good vintage of the drink itself. Nosdyn put the goblet to his lips after a paranoid moment passed. He kept looking at Storm Veritas, the man was interesting enough. "You have strong aether about you, Storm Veritas. You are one who has been through many battles. I suspect there are many more battles left in you as well."
    Fear. Fear is my weapon.
    Fear, anger, cruelty, these I bestow upon you. My chosen Death Knight.-Arthas
    ~Nosdyn Krotar~
    ~Scary Mask~

  6. #6
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    Hearing the words matter-of-factly being returned to him from the thick, stoic demon creature, the wizard cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow raising as he allowed the orange-red firewater to cultivate in his mouth. The burn rolled over him as he tried to understand the motivations of the recruit.

    Who –is- this goddamned simpleton?!

    There was no subtlety of appreciation of the implied; the glowing-eyed demon simply spoke backwards with the frank honesty of an automaton. At this moment, the experienced adventurer understood the compromised position he would likely forever hold with the messenger. Never could anything be implied; never a secret could be trusted.

    You asked for a soldier, and you got one. Definitely nothing more, but how much less?!

    With an understanding that there would be no grasp of the delicacies regarding diplomatic activity, Storm decided he could at least test the waters regarding the skill set owned by the potential acquisition. It was only fair; should the demon be as powerful as he looked, there could still be value extracted in the relationship.

    “Indeed, my friend. I’ve been to hell and back a few times – with no pun intended to your likely brimstonian heritage. Thing is, I’m becoming more particular with the battles I choose these days; back in Corone I can’t be executing every nuisance that saunters across my path. I need men…

    “err…

    “…I need firepower. Contract work of competent physical aptitude, understand?”

    With a thud, the thick shot glass thumped upon the table, as Storm motioned again for the bartender he had originally embarrassed. This time, three large elves joined him and began slowly marching from the kitchen towards the seated tandem.

    “Time to see what you can do. Consider this your test, Nosdyn. Try-outs, if you will.”

    The four-thug crew marched upon them from the kitchen towards the wizard, who leaned back in the creaky oak chair, perching his heels precariously upon the thick wooden table. He was impossibly vulnerable, fingers folded behind his head and smiling as his high cheekbones reddened slightly with a touch of alcohol flooding in.

    “We want to move forward in peace, stranger, but we can’t have your disrespect in my bar. Let me buy you and your bright-eyed companion a drink for the road.” Biting through his lower lip, the proud barkeep fought against his better judgment, the dark part of him that wished to lower a machete between the eyebrows of the arrogant politico.

    “Generous offer, slim.” Storm smiled a gleaming, dimpled grin at the testy small business owner. “Thing is, I’ve got a counter offer.”

    Unflinching, the electromancer shot a quick look at all three of the tall, sinewy elves. These creatures were big, but they weren’t security per se, more a make-shift crew of tall stacks assembled by an angered attendant. They were nervous, but proud, obviously itching for a fight they weren’t entirely prepared to handle. Armed only with handfuls of dense bicep flesh amidst their crossed arms and furrowed eyebrows, they clearly deferred to the better judgment of the boss.

    “How about…” The mage rocked back and forth in the chair, balancing his weight by the heel propped upon the table top. “How about you apologize for the interruption with a tender mouthful of my salty nut-sack, you puppy-shit soft little pussy?”

  7. #7
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    Without hesitation, one fluid motion of action and thought...Nosdyn acted.

    As if given a blessing by one of the Thaynes themselves, Nosdyn knew where and when to follow orders. He was a soldier, first and foremost and Storm was his but his latest client. When the disgusting Elf folks gathered in number, Nosdyn sighed for only a moment.

    He only needed the excuse to act. Public killing...not bad. A moment later a horrible sound filled the air, touching the very fabric of the air. Nosdyn was upon the closest of the burly Drow without hesitation. He'd impaled the man with his beam weapon and held the energy blade deep in the stunned body of the fellow.

    Nosdyn looked in the eyes of his chosen enemy. "You lot have one shot at this. Either let this go...or die." Nosdyn was deadly serious. The first of the Drow died and fell to the ground with a thud. There was a gaping hole in his body from where Nosdyn had stabbed him. Nosdyn's eyes were filled with a tremendous rage, making the image of the Demon all the more terrifying.

    Nosdyn's mind was already quickly reacting and planning to the situation at hand. He held the hilt of his dark weapon tightly feeling the power flowing through his arm. Nosdyn narrowed his eyes and carefully studied the remaining of the so-called thus. Nosdyn dared the remaining three men to attack.

    "You killed him...just like that..." One of the lackeys said with tremendous fear in his voice.

    "You should have thought about this battle much more carefully." Nosdyn said. He looked over at Storm, who remained observing the situation. "Now. Gentlemen, what will it be? Life or death?" Nosdyn would fight every last one of them if need be.
    Fear. Fear is my weapon.
    Fear, anger, cruelty, these I bestow upon you. My chosen Death Knight.-Arthas
    ~Nosdyn Krotar~
    ~Scary Mask~

  8. #8
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    Holy shit…

    The ferocity of the demon could not be understated. After insulting the group of men, the apprentice barely waited for them to lurch forward before springing to action with a violent, frenzied assault.

    The speed of the attack knocked the wizard backwards; he wrapped his fingers around the dagger which sat behind his left hip, but didn’t need to pull the blade. Nosdyn had stopped them in their tracks; they were shocked as well by his violence and merciless energy. Shrieks came from the kitchen as the confrontational elves steppe back quickly and with little caution. Out of sight, the kitchen help began pumping the furnace, breaking the steady exhaust stream and sending pops of smoke up the chimney as a silent distress signal.

    The body of the bartender fell to the dust-capped wooden floor, blood pouring from a freshly cut orifice in his chest. Storm took care to pull his feet back away from the crimson liquid as it pooled outwards; the demon was less cautious.

    “Discretion is the better part of valor for you, then?”

    Like an anchor, the weight of the death hung in the magician’s belly. He had picked a fight with the barkeep, but hadn’t expected him to wind up dead so quickly. This hired help wasn’t one for a deft hand; his was an energy of binary on and off. If finesse was required, he had found the wrong man.

    Storm glared down at the bartender for a moment, seeing the dead eyes which stared off into the infinite. Had this elf left for work today with any premonition it would be his last? Did he leave a wife behind? Children? The torment swirled briefly in the belly of the aging adventurer, who was forced to snap to as urgency leapt across his mind’s front.

    Gonna be a lot of peacekeepers showing up here soon enough.

    “Nosdyn, we’ve got to go. Let’s test that speed.”

    The tingle-chime of the door was a sharp contrast to the somber tone which overwhelmed the bar room. The outdoors, despite the late night, shined with a brightness of a second day, unique to Ettermire. There was no cover of darkness here, not really. Gaslit lanterns lined the streets neatly in even increments, casting bright greenish golden light uniformly across the street-front buildings and well into the alleyways diving the modern stylized city. The wooden alehouse was an anachronism here, a callback to a simpler time. Hopping upon his great steed, Storm turned to motion for the assassin, who had exited the building as devoid of emotion or expression as a librarian sorting titles by volume.

    “Wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. We’ve got to move; find somewhere to take cover. Want a ride, or are you fast as well as charming?”

  9. #9
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    Nosdyn considered the situation at hand once they were outside. He was attempting to start a fight...I ended it. Nosdyn knew that Storm was probably right...but he didn't like it. He looked around and saw lights heading towards the scene of the crime. Nosdyn sighed. This is all bullshit. Laws, government...society...I hate them all. Nosdyn looked at Storm Veritas at that point and nodded.

    "Speed is not one of my strengths, I could use that ride." Nosdyn shut one his beam weapon and the horrible noise faded away a moment or two later. He attached the weapon to it's appropriate attachment on his belt. Nosdyn had to calm himself for a moment a he looked back at the bar they were just in. "We were set up by that bar tender..." He shook his head. He then looked back at Storm. "If we're getting out of here we gotta make it quick. Do you have an idea of where we're heading?" Nosdyn figured they could head to a safe house, worst case scenario. He didn't want to head back to The Boss for such a trivial matter.

    Nosdyn looked at the steed that Storm summoned. "Want me to get on?" He asked. And was already moving to do just that...
    Fear. Fear is my weapon.
    Fear, anger, cruelty, these I bestow upon you. My chosen Death Knight.-Arthas
    ~Nosdyn Krotar~
    ~Scary Mask~

  10. #10
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    The ruthless demon retorted with the same monotone repose that grated at Storm, however his self-awareness was much appreciated. Gripping his right wrist in a gentlemen’s clasp, the wizard hoisted the orange-eyed monstrosity upon Attila’s great back. It was shocking to the wizard how light and nimble Nosdyn was; for such a heavy-hitter he certainly didn’t qualify for the top weight class.

    “We’ll need to hit town; Ettermire is busy and it’s easier for us to disappear amidst the rabble. Of course, between my human complexion and your… well.. and YOU, we’ll stand out like a raisin in oatmeal.”

    Smiling, Veritas kept his face forward as he heeled Attila forward, the great beast charging on the lit road with great ease. He could almost hear the demon’s head spinning, trying to process an analogy that would certainly not compute to him.

    The f*ck do demons eat, anyway? Human flesh? Fire? Rocks?

    The driving rhythm of hoof strikes forced the leader to speak a bit louder than he wished. After watching the atrocities just moments ago, there was no desire for the lithe rogue to lean back and converse with Nosdyn any closer than he had to.

    The smile persevered; this monstrous thing would be the perfect shield.

    “Have you heard of the artifact? We’re going to liberate it.

    The magician had traveled with very little belongings, expecting the second passenger to be a great monstrous thing. The warhorse could charge with two relatively normal patrons faster than most steeds could handle one.

    “We’ll need to get to safety first; my sources have told me it is being held in the Coronian Embassy. Security isn’t light.”

    The hooves drove on as he pulled into an alley, rearing Attila and hopping down into darker space.

    “I needed talent, and I’ve got it. I have an idea of how to get in, but we need more intelligence. After that, we get in, we get the artifact, we get out. I become happy, you and “The Boss” become rich. Candy from a goddamned baby.”

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