Taiz
09-08-11, 06:29 AM
Closed to Taiz and Warden. Bunnying approved.
Some rise by sin
Prologue
“Come in”, sounded the voice from behind the door. Ving opened it carefully, as if it were the door itself he was afraid of, instead of what awaited him beyond. Perspiration trickled from his brow, making his charcoal skin glisten.
The office was dark, illuminated only by the panoramic view of Ettermire’s skyline that the office’s single glass wall provided. Rays of light poured from cracks in the dark clouds that hovered over the city ; clouds that originated from the numerous black spires that dotted the city. To most outsiders this would be a grim, if not impressive vision of a future wrought by technology. To Ving and his kinsmen, it was already reality.
A man stood behind the desk, staring off into the horizon with his back turned to the drow. This was the man who had summoned him, though summoned wasn’t really the word. It was almost abduction, if it weren’t for the fact he was treated politely. The office was rectangular, a glass table in the middle that was flanked by two comfortable-looking couches. Its layout was eerily symmetrical, meticulously designed to impose a feeling of order.
“Have a seat”, the man said. It wasn’t really a request, Ving understood. He sat down on one of the couches and nervously eyed his host.
He was about to speak up when the other began speaking first, still turned away from him. “Ving Gurtissing, aged 486. Suspected of involvement in multiple crimes of varying severity over the years, though never proven guilty. Of course, we know otherwise.”
Ving’s fears were confirmed. This was blackmail, wasn’t it? This man was implying he had dirt on him. But Ving had already gone through this before.
He crossed his arms and leaned back, attempting to regain most of his composure. He’d have bluff his way out of this. “Now hold on there, you’re-“ But he didn’t get the chance to finish.
“I’m what? Wrong? Ill-informed?” The man slowly turned around, revealing himself to his guest at last, and put his hands on the desk. This surprised Ving, but finally gave him a better look at his host. He was fair-skinned human with thin blonde hair and a rough beard. Icy blue eyes, sharp nose, strong jaw. Seemingly of middle-age. Humans lived short lives, around the 60 years Ving believed it was. According to his meager education, this man would be in his mid-thirties. He was being intimidated by a youngster. A child.
The man continued speaking.
“Would I have had you brought here if there were even the slightest doubt on your background? No, I know very well who you are. You are a participant in the…informal economy, a man who recruits others to do the work of those who employ your services. A businessman.” He said, then gestured to himself with his hands slowly. “Like me.”
Ving nodded. “Yes.” He obviously was on the receiving end here, and the proverbial ball was in this human’s court, so to speak. He decided it were better he not interrupt his host a second time. From the looks of it, this wasn’t the type that could be deceived easily.
“You used to work for a certain Gustan Martivius, a Freiherr. You would supply him with manpower, while he would assure that your name wouldn’t come up. That is, unless you rubbed him the wrong way.”
“Yes, I used to work for him, but he’s gone now. I work for others now.” Ving said.
“Indeed.” The man sat down on his chair, now sitting at his desk, elbows on the surface and hands clasped together lightly, supporting his chin.
“You see, Gustan was one of my subordinates, not indispensable to me, but valuable enough. His loss is of no importance to me. What is important however is that the hole his death should have left in the market has been filled remarkably quickly.”
Ving smiled. He knew what this was about. Freeman. “And you want me to just tell you what I know? What eh…incentive, do you have?” Ving replied, though he already knew the answer. There was none. He’d get the truth one way or another, and this was the easiest way. For both parties.
As if to confirm this, his host only smiled.
“I don’t know who he is, I’ve never met him in person. Only a messenger.”
“And that’s all I need to know. Tell me about this messenger.”
-------------
“Well, I believe that concludes our business here. Your cooperation has been appreciated. You are free to go.”
Ving smiled, not out of relief, but a silent resignation to his fate. He knew what that meant. He’d lived in this world long enough to understand how it works in this line of business. He’d brought the same fate upon plenty of fellows. It was only natural he’d be on the receiving end one day.
“Before I leave…your name please?” he asked.
“Kristof. Kristof Schwarzhimmel”, the other man replied in a tone that was almost sympathetic.
“Alright then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Ambush
Evening approached. It was a time of day that Errol always found pleasing. Between the bright of day and the dark of night was that short moment where the city seemed to be truly alive. The city bathed in the light of the sky, obstructed by clouds of smoke and flying ships that passed over Ettermire’s skyline. In this light, the city’s streets had a bronze hue to it, a glow that was near golden.
The straight and orderly streets were littered with crowds of people, scurrying around to finish their daily business before retreating to their homes, breaking the illusion of mechanical order that the city’s lay-out was meant to impose.
It was beautiful, really, Errol thought. A land tamed by science and technology, the product of men’s vision of how their world ought to be. A people that had liberated themselves from their oppressive, primitive origins in order to make their vision a reality, and did it. Though Errol wasn’t really one of them, being a previously enslaved human sold to an Aleraran, he was still proud of this culture he had been raised in.
Errol blended into the crowd quite well. Although it was partly because he carried himself like a native citizen, his going unnoticed could also be attributed to what walked only a short distance behind him. A large and imposing hulk of a creature, cased in black steel armor definitely got more attention than a slightly oddly-dressed human in a crowd of drow.
This creature was Warden, Errol’s personal bodyguard, confidante and muscle. Warden slowly plodded through the crowd, following Errol at a distance. The creature paid no attention to the crowd, ignoring any reaction given to his frightening presence. It wasn’t because Errol had told him to do so that he ignored others; they simply meant nothing to him. His sole concern at the moment was the task given to him. Follow and protect.
Errol was headed to a black market gunsmith that had been recommended to him . After a recent job, his pistol had broken down, despite how frequently Errol maintained his firearm. An up and coming crime-lord is nothing without a firearm, or at least an effective weapon to protect himself with.
Though one could say Warden was plenty a weapon, Errol preferred to have a weapon on his person anyway. Despite how much Errol liked him, he was still a possible liability. After all, Warden wasn’t really human. In fact, no one really knew what he was, and there was really telling what he was thinking most of the time. Luckily, this didn’t bother Errol too much. To him, the pros of having such a creature in his service far outweighed the cons.
The gunsmith he was headed to was supposed to be an old man who lived in a small house downtown. It was a pleasant surprise when Errol received a letter from one of his regular contacts, Ving, who recommended he go to this man if he ever need gun maintenance.
Errol had many contacts, to whom he pretended to be only a messenger for his boss. It wasn’t rare for a contact to try buttering him up, but before Ving never did that. It came as a surprise to Errol how well-written the letter was. As far as he knew, Ving wasn’t all that educated.
The crowd diminished as Errol made his way downtown, and he eventually arrived at his destination. It was indeed a small house, just big enough for a small family to live in. Barely.
Upon further inspection, Errol noticed that the house was somewhat dilapidated, and didn’t look like the kind of place anyone would live. In fact, the entire neighborhood was that way. This part of the city held many warehouses, and most of the residential domiciles here were built a long time ago, and often were beyond repair. It was a good place for illegal deals to be made in private, and for goods to be stashed away. It might be a good place for a gun launderer, but a gunsmith? It didn’t match up. A gunsmith, even one partaking in the informal economy, would have enough money not to live in here, and his activities wouldn’t be that hard to hide even in a normal house.
This was suspicious. Errol looked around him. Only a few passerby, most of which were watching Warden, who was waiting across the street. Without the crowds, it was pretty obvious to see Warden was with Errol. Not good.
It was as if the people hiding inside the building had smelled his hesitation, for the moment Errol took a step back and wanted to leave, the door opened and revealed three thugs. Seemed a bit more disciplined than the usual henchmen, they didn’t say anything, no taunts, no insults. They were human, with pale skin and fair hair. Not from around here, that was for sure. Armed with clubs and knives. Errol didn’t have more time to size them up, really. Before Errol could react accordingly, before he could hightail it out of there, one of them jumped at him with his club. A blackjack, wielded expertly to knock out the target without doing too much damage. If only his usual henchmen for hire were that good, Errol thought. Then everything went black.
Some rise by sin
Prologue
“Come in”, sounded the voice from behind the door. Ving opened it carefully, as if it were the door itself he was afraid of, instead of what awaited him beyond. Perspiration trickled from his brow, making his charcoal skin glisten.
The office was dark, illuminated only by the panoramic view of Ettermire’s skyline that the office’s single glass wall provided. Rays of light poured from cracks in the dark clouds that hovered over the city ; clouds that originated from the numerous black spires that dotted the city. To most outsiders this would be a grim, if not impressive vision of a future wrought by technology. To Ving and his kinsmen, it was already reality.
A man stood behind the desk, staring off into the horizon with his back turned to the drow. This was the man who had summoned him, though summoned wasn’t really the word. It was almost abduction, if it weren’t for the fact he was treated politely. The office was rectangular, a glass table in the middle that was flanked by two comfortable-looking couches. Its layout was eerily symmetrical, meticulously designed to impose a feeling of order.
“Have a seat”, the man said. It wasn’t really a request, Ving understood. He sat down on one of the couches and nervously eyed his host.
He was about to speak up when the other began speaking first, still turned away from him. “Ving Gurtissing, aged 486. Suspected of involvement in multiple crimes of varying severity over the years, though never proven guilty. Of course, we know otherwise.”
Ving’s fears were confirmed. This was blackmail, wasn’t it? This man was implying he had dirt on him. But Ving had already gone through this before.
He crossed his arms and leaned back, attempting to regain most of his composure. He’d have bluff his way out of this. “Now hold on there, you’re-“ But he didn’t get the chance to finish.
“I’m what? Wrong? Ill-informed?” The man slowly turned around, revealing himself to his guest at last, and put his hands on the desk. This surprised Ving, but finally gave him a better look at his host. He was fair-skinned human with thin blonde hair and a rough beard. Icy blue eyes, sharp nose, strong jaw. Seemingly of middle-age. Humans lived short lives, around the 60 years Ving believed it was. According to his meager education, this man would be in his mid-thirties. He was being intimidated by a youngster. A child.
The man continued speaking.
“Would I have had you brought here if there were even the slightest doubt on your background? No, I know very well who you are. You are a participant in the…informal economy, a man who recruits others to do the work of those who employ your services. A businessman.” He said, then gestured to himself with his hands slowly. “Like me.”
Ving nodded. “Yes.” He obviously was on the receiving end here, and the proverbial ball was in this human’s court, so to speak. He decided it were better he not interrupt his host a second time. From the looks of it, this wasn’t the type that could be deceived easily.
“You used to work for a certain Gustan Martivius, a Freiherr. You would supply him with manpower, while he would assure that your name wouldn’t come up. That is, unless you rubbed him the wrong way.”
“Yes, I used to work for him, but he’s gone now. I work for others now.” Ving said.
“Indeed.” The man sat down on his chair, now sitting at his desk, elbows on the surface and hands clasped together lightly, supporting his chin.
“You see, Gustan was one of my subordinates, not indispensable to me, but valuable enough. His loss is of no importance to me. What is important however is that the hole his death should have left in the market has been filled remarkably quickly.”
Ving smiled. He knew what this was about. Freeman. “And you want me to just tell you what I know? What eh…incentive, do you have?” Ving replied, though he already knew the answer. There was none. He’d get the truth one way or another, and this was the easiest way. For both parties.
As if to confirm this, his host only smiled.
“I don’t know who he is, I’ve never met him in person. Only a messenger.”
“And that’s all I need to know. Tell me about this messenger.”
-------------
“Well, I believe that concludes our business here. Your cooperation has been appreciated. You are free to go.”
Ving smiled, not out of relief, but a silent resignation to his fate. He knew what that meant. He’d lived in this world long enough to understand how it works in this line of business. He’d brought the same fate upon plenty of fellows. It was only natural he’d be on the receiving end one day.
“Before I leave…your name please?” he asked.
“Kristof. Kristof Schwarzhimmel”, the other man replied in a tone that was almost sympathetic.
“Alright then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Ambush
Evening approached. It was a time of day that Errol always found pleasing. Between the bright of day and the dark of night was that short moment where the city seemed to be truly alive. The city bathed in the light of the sky, obstructed by clouds of smoke and flying ships that passed over Ettermire’s skyline. In this light, the city’s streets had a bronze hue to it, a glow that was near golden.
The straight and orderly streets were littered with crowds of people, scurrying around to finish their daily business before retreating to their homes, breaking the illusion of mechanical order that the city’s lay-out was meant to impose.
It was beautiful, really, Errol thought. A land tamed by science and technology, the product of men’s vision of how their world ought to be. A people that had liberated themselves from their oppressive, primitive origins in order to make their vision a reality, and did it. Though Errol wasn’t really one of them, being a previously enslaved human sold to an Aleraran, he was still proud of this culture he had been raised in.
Errol blended into the crowd quite well. Although it was partly because he carried himself like a native citizen, his going unnoticed could also be attributed to what walked only a short distance behind him. A large and imposing hulk of a creature, cased in black steel armor definitely got more attention than a slightly oddly-dressed human in a crowd of drow.
This creature was Warden, Errol’s personal bodyguard, confidante and muscle. Warden slowly plodded through the crowd, following Errol at a distance. The creature paid no attention to the crowd, ignoring any reaction given to his frightening presence. It wasn’t because Errol had told him to do so that he ignored others; they simply meant nothing to him. His sole concern at the moment was the task given to him. Follow and protect.
Errol was headed to a black market gunsmith that had been recommended to him . After a recent job, his pistol had broken down, despite how frequently Errol maintained his firearm. An up and coming crime-lord is nothing without a firearm, or at least an effective weapon to protect himself with.
Though one could say Warden was plenty a weapon, Errol preferred to have a weapon on his person anyway. Despite how much Errol liked him, he was still a possible liability. After all, Warden wasn’t really human. In fact, no one really knew what he was, and there was really telling what he was thinking most of the time. Luckily, this didn’t bother Errol too much. To him, the pros of having such a creature in his service far outweighed the cons.
The gunsmith he was headed to was supposed to be an old man who lived in a small house downtown. It was a pleasant surprise when Errol received a letter from one of his regular contacts, Ving, who recommended he go to this man if he ever need gun maintenance.
Errol had many contacts, to whom he pretended to be only a messenger for his boss. It wasn’t rare for a contact to try buttering him up, but before Ving never did that. It came as a surprise to Errol how well-written the letter was. As far as he knew, Ving wasn’t all that educated.
The crowd diminished as Errol made his way downtown, and he eventually arrived at his destination. It was indeed a small house, just big enough for a small family to live in. Barely.
Upon further inspection, Errol noticed that the house was somewhat dilapidated, and didn’t look like the kind of place anyone would live. In fact, the entire neighborhood was that way. This part of the city held many warehouses, and most of the residential domiciles here were built a long time ago, and often were beyond repair. It was a good place for illegal deals to be made in private, and for goods to be stashed away. It might be a good place for a gun launderer, but a gunsmith? It didn’t match up. A gunsmith, even one partaking in the informal economy, would have enough money not to live in here, and his activities wouldn’t be that hard to hide even in a normal house.
This was suspicious. Errol looked around him. Only a few passerby, most of which were watching Warden, who was waiting across the street. Without the crowds, it was pretty obvious to see Warden was with Errol. Not good.
It was as if the people hiding inside the building had smelled his hesitation, for the moment Errol took a step back and wanted to leave, the door opened and revealed three thugs. Seemed a bit more disciplined than the usual henchmen, they didn’t say anything, no taunts, no insults. They were human, with pale skin and fair hair. Not from around here, that was for sure. Armed with clubs and knives. Errol didn’t have more time to size them up, really. Before Errol could react accordingly, before he could hightail it out of there, one of them jumped at him with his club. A blackjack, wielded expertly to knock out the target without doing too much damage. If only his usual henchmen for hire were that good, Errol thought. Then everything went black.