Chandra
12-02-08, 11:59 PM
Reserved for Sunset Theatre Co.
Laughter. There were few sounds in the world more titillating than the sound of a woman’s laugh, whether it be a sexy chuckle, or a cackle befitting that of a hyena. Afzel Chandra loved it because he knew it would be followed by those few sounds that made the laughter all the more worth it. Tonight his ears were being serenaded by the laughter of three women of the Alerar upper class. They were beautiful, sophisticated and rich. They could have been speaking to anyone else, especially here in the plush scarlet atrium of the Alerar Grand Theatre, and especially now during the after party of the performance season’s premier comedy, Jester’s Prophecies. They were rubbing elbows with Grafs, Princes, and Princesses. But they were engaged in conversation with little Afie Chan, hanging on his every word. As gracious as Afzel was for such circumstances, he was not about to attribute any of his work to luck. This was highly tuned social grace. Worst case scenario - he would bed only one of them tonight. Or would he?
“Sorry, ladies. I can’t keep him off his leash for too long.” A familiar voice came from Afzel’s side, a slender arm hooked his, and then he was abruptly yanked from his social harem.
“Damn you, Rupinder.” Afzel mumbled through his teeth to his sister as they navigated past social circles full of opulent gowns and tailor made suits. “Damn you to the depths of Haidia!”
“I drive the carriage there. Besides, they’re nothing compared to the stage nymphs you’re going to meet at the exclusive cast party.” They stopped in front of a pair of ornate double doors, and Rupinder proceeded to tidy her little brother up a bit.
Rupinder was the third of the five adopted Chandra children, the one before Afzel and four years his senior. Like Afzel she was a Half Elf, presumably a mix of Coronian Human and Alerarian Elf. Her ears clearly pointed straight up through the curtain of straight black hair. Her cheeks were round, her nose was a button, and her jade green eyes complimented olive skin only a shade or two lighter than Afzel’s.
When Afzel decided to become a mercenary it was only logical that he relocate from the family estate in the Khu’Fein region to the best area of business, Ettermire. It just so happened that Rupinder, who had taken up a well paying job at Ankhas, had a beautiful spacious townhome here. She immediately offered residence in return for twenty percent of his earnings as a mercenary, and he graciously accepted. On the weekends neither of them was working they would have a night on the town together. Tonight was one of those nights.
“You know I never got to thank you for this.” Afzel said as he took yet another awed glance at Rupinder’s dress. It cascaded down her like an emerald waterfall, with golden weavings and decorations climbing up her legs like vines. “How much did you pay for that dress?”
“Oh nothing.” Rupinder looked at him with a giddy smile. “The same gentleman that invited us to this event gave me this dress. He said it belonged to his wife, but she doesn’t like to wear anything more than once. Isn’t that ludicrous? Maybe I can get him to hand you down a suit or two. The shawl thing is getting old.”
“Hey, it’s a poncho.” Afzel said as he opened the door for her. “It’s my signature. And besides I put on my good one for tonight.”
As soon as the door closed, something peculiar struck both Chandra siblings at the same time. It was quiet. All that could be heard was the hustle and bustle outside and the crackling of the fireplace on the other side of the room. The lighting was dim, provided by a line of wall lamps that added a crème tint to one’s vision. In fact most of the light came down from the glass sun roof, from where the silver moon was assisted by the golden flames of Ettermire’s factory chimneys. In the center of the room was a giant round table with a seemingly impossible number of chairs around it. Only one Drow man sat at the table reading a newspaper.
Rupinder stepped a little closer to Afzel as she hailed the man. “Um… Is this where the cast party is supposed to be held?”
“Indeed it is. The cast is still changing. They probably won’t be out for another twenty minutes or so.” The man callously looked up with a pair of lavender eyes. “You must be the Chandras. Please have a seat.”
The siblings seemed to revert to their days of childhood as they reluctantly sat on the opposite side of the table. After a moment of awkward silence the lavender man spoke again. “I go by the name of Rakast Lunareye. Thank you for asking.”
“S… Sorry.” Rupinder said with a strawberry red smile.
“You ought to be, rude.” Afzel said sarcastically under his breath. His sister quickly reprimanded him with a discreet punch in the arm.
“Apology accepted.” Rakast stood up and lazily began to walk to their side of the table. “Some gratitude would also be in order, for the dress and admission that is. You see it was my asset who gave you those things. He is on his way out of the country as we speak, and he is never to return. Consider his box and season admission yours.”
The two leaped out of their chairs in high alert. Afzel stood between Rakast and his sister. His right hand clenched the pommel of the Schiavona at his left side, and his left hand clenched the end of the crimson wand at his right side. Rupinder slowly stepped towards the door.
Rakast took a few steps back and raised his hands in the air.
“Now I must apologize for startling you. I could have conveyed that information in a much less threatening way. I’m reaching for my identification.” He reached into his pocket and tossed them a leather pouch. Rupinder snatched it out of the air and extracted a platinum badge, a royal seal stamp, and a few business cards.
“These look legitimate.” Rupinder said from over Afzel’s shoulder. “He’s the Head of His Majesty's Wing of Special Operations. It’s a nice way of saying he’s a spy.”
“Not a spy. I am the spy. However, I focus primarily in internal counterespionage. In laymen’s terms, I make sure no one is doing what we do to all others. There is a local situation that concerns me, and I would like to enlist your services as a liaison of information, and your brother’s services as a mercenary and strategist.”
Afzel eased up as he looked at his older sister. They then turned to Rakast and chimed. “How much?”
“Why don’t we cover that when your team arrives?”
Laughter. There were few sounds in the world more titillating than the sound of a woman’s laugh, whether it be a sexy chuckle, or a cackle befitting that of a hyena. Afzel Chandra loved it because he knew it would be followed by those few sounds that made the laughter all the more worth it. Tonight his ears were being serenaded by the laughter of three women of the Alerar upper class. They were beautiful, sophisticated and rich. They could have been speaking to anyone else, especially here in the plush scarlet atrium of the Alerar Grand Theatre, and especially now during the after party of the performance season’s premier comedy, Jester’s Prophecies. They were rubbing elbows with Grafs, Princes, and Princesses. But they were engaged in conversation with little Afie Chan, hanging on his every word. As gracious as Afzel was for such circumstances, he was not about to attribute any of his work to luck. This was highly tuned social grace. Worst case scenario - he would bed only one of them tonight. Or would he?
“Sorry, ladies. I can’t keep him off his leash for too long.” A familiar voice came from Afzel’s side, a slender arm hooked his, and then he was abruptly yanked from his social harem.
“Damn you, Rupinder.” Afzel mumbled through his teeth to his sister as they navigated past social circles full of opulent gowns and tailor made suits. “Damn you to the depths of Haidia!”
“I drive the carriage there. Besides, they’re nothing compared to the stage nymphs you’re going to meet at the exclusive cast party.” They stopped in front of a pair of ornate double doors, and Rupinder proceeded to tidy her little brother up a bit.
Rupinder was the third of the five adopted Chandra children, the one before Afzel and four years his senior. Like Afzel she was a Half Elf, presumably a mix of Coronian Human and Alerarian Elf. Her ears clearly pointed straight up through the curtain of straight black hair. Her cheeks were round, her nose was a button, and her jade green eyes complimented olive skin only a shade or two lighter than Afzel’s.
When Afzel decided to become a mercenary it was only logical that he relocate from the family estate in the Khu’Fein region to the best area of business, Ettermire. It just so happened that Rupinder, who had taken up a well paying job at Ankhas, had a beautiful spacious townhome here. She immediately offered residence in return for twenty percent of his earnings as a mercenary, and he graciously accepted. On the weekends neither of them was working they would have a night on the town together. Tonight was one of those nights.
“You know I never got to thank you for this.” Afzel said as he took yet another awed glance at Rupinder’s dress. It cascaded down her like an emerald waterfall, with golden weavings and decorations climbing up her legs like vines. “How much did you pay for that dress?”
“Oh nothing.” Rupinder looked at him with a giddy smile. “The same gentleman that invited us to this event gave me this dress. He said it belonged to his wife, but she doesn’t like to wear anything more than once. Isn’t that ludicrous? Maybe I can get him to hand you down a suit or two. The shawl thing is getting old.”
“Hey, it’s a poncho.” Afzel said as he opened the door for her. “It’s my signature. And besides I put on my good one for tonight.”
As soon as the door closed, something peculiar struck both Chandra siblings at the same time. It was quiet. All that could be heard was the hustle and bustle outside and the crackling of the fireplace on the other side of the room. The lighting was dim, provided by a line of wall lamps that added a crème tint to one’s vision. In fact most of the light came down from the glass sun roof, from where the silver moon was assisted by the golden flames of Ettermire’s factory chimneys. In the center of the room was a giant round table with a seemingly impossible number of chairs around it. Only one Drow man sat at the table reading a newspaper.
Rupinder stepped a little closer to Afzel as she hailed the man. “Um… Is this where the cast party is supposed to be held?”
“Indeed it is. The cast is still changing. They probably won’t be out for another twenty minutes or so.” The man callously looked up with a pair of lavender eyes. “You must be the Chandras. Please have a seat.”
The siblings seemed to revert to their days of childhood as they reluctantly sat on the opposite side of the table. After a moment of awkward silence the lavender man spoke again. “I go by the name of Rakast Lunareye. Thank you for asking.”
“S… Sorry.” Rupinder said with a strawberry red smile.
“You ought to be, rude.” Afzel said sarcastically under his breath. His sister quickly reprimanded him with a discreet punch in the arm.
“Apology accepted.” Rakast stood up and lazily began to walk to their side of the table. “Some gratitude would also be in order, for the dress and admission that is. You see it was my asset who gave you those things. He is on his way out of the country as we speak, and he is never to return. Consider his box and season admission yours.”
The two leaped out of their chairs in high alert. Afzel stood between Rakast and his sister. His right hand clenched the pommel of the Schiavona at his left side, and his left hand clenched the end of the crimson wand at his right side. Rupinder slowly stepped towards the door.
Rakast took a few steps back and raised his hands in the air.
“Now I must apologize for startling you. I could have conveyed that information in a much less threatening way. I’m reaching for my identification.” He reached into his pocket and tossed them a leather pouch. Rupinder snatched it out of the air and extracted a platinum badge, a royal seal stamp, and a few business cards.
“These look legitimate.” Rupinder said from over Afzel’s shoulder. “He’s the Head of His Majesty's Wing of Special Operations. It’s a nice way of saying he’s a spy.”
“Not a spy. I am the spy. However, I focus primarily in internal counterespionage. In laymen’s terms, I make sure no one is doing what we do to all others. There is a local situation that concerns me, and I would like to enlist your services as a liaison of information, and your brother’s services as a mercenary and strategist.”
Afzel eased up as he looked at his older sister. They then turned to Rakast and chimed. “How much?”
“Why don’t we cover that when your team arrives?”