To Steal Faith From The Faithless (Closed)

[Leopold]

To Steal Faith From The Faithless (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oILoXM4R4ts)

http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium/lost-faith-michael-walker.jpg


Closed to Lyla.

Set after By Rook, Wrath & Ruin (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?23980-By-Rook-Wrath-amp-Ruin-(Solo)&highlight=by+rook) and By Tap, Trap & Testimony. (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?24012-By-Tap-Trap-amp-Testimony-(Solo)&highlight=by+rook)

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Leopold Winchester returned to Knife’s Edge from Berevar, and instantly felt at home. Though the city was in ruins after the civil war, it felt like his sort of ruin. Decadence, after all, was his sort of company. Though the Winchester Rose Trading Company portrayed itself as an altruistic organisation, every now and then, it took to clandestine operations.

When the debonair gentlemen heard about a wayward priest of the Sway from his limited connections to Salvar’s underground, he practically jumped at the opportunity to deal a decisive blow to the organisation that had upended the Old God’s providence in the snow wastes. Whilst the High Queen, the head of the Church of the Sway was destroyed, the corrupt dogma of the Church remained. Leopold would do anything to deal another blow to the remnants of the oppressive hierarchy that lingered in the rock, rubble, and quagmire of the Salvar capital.

“Where did you say she was?” Leopold asked his contact, his eyebrow raised, his cigar smouldering, and his heart racing with anticipation.

“The contact told me the priest was waiting on the southern front, in hiding, and waiting for a way to leave Knife’s Edge without being noticed.”

Leopold leant into his desk, leaning against the coarse wood of his meagre outpost’s office with a smile.

“Well, now is that not interesting?” he smiled broadly, and removed the cigar from his mouth.

Though Ruby Winchester, Leopold’s esteemed wife, was quite desperate to take the schooner the company used home, and be done with their exploits in the tundra, Leopold felt like he simply could not pass up this opportunity. He was, after all, one of the Old Gods. How could he ignore an opportunity to allow a woman who had stolen from the Church of the Sway to find freedom in the wider world?

“Wilfred,” he whispered, replacing the cigar in his mouth with a soft smile, he spoke through it’s sickening stench, “prepare the wagon…we have to find this woman, and help her…” he smiled, “disappear.”

[Lyla Erben]

Thin shafts of luminescence wafted down from the afternoon sun, dancing about the ground as tired feet padded along. To the left, shanties stood up against a relentless wind. To the right, the ruins of a brutal, bloody war stood as though to spite the conquered. None bothered to look up from their meager lives as yet another dejected body shuffled somberly along. There wasn't much to see. There never was. A burlap blanket to keep the cold away and a small bundle of clothes. A little more than some had, but not much.

This was life in Rubble Town. Questions weren't asked in these parts of Knife's Edge; not for long, anyway. Things went unspoken as often as not... and that was exactly why the newcomer felt safer among the lawless than she did as one of the governed. People always asked too many questions. They had to know why or what. Why are you doing this? What is going on? What will happen now? Entirely too many questions.

Of course, some questions did need answers, but not all of them. Nobody ever asked the right ones. One the wanderer felt needed to be answered was simply, “What do I do now?” It was a logical question. She had, after all, abandoned the Church of the Ethreal Sway, stolen an artifact from a rather high-ranking member, abandoned her duties and training, and (so far) gotten away with it.

Certain people knew what had happened. They told friends, who told friends, and eventually everyone on half of the continent had heard about the Empowered Priestess who had gone rogue. Most of the reactions were as expected. More proof that witchcraft and sorcery were evil, corruptive influences. Priests being called to hunt one of their own. Wanted posters hung up all over the city. Not that they would ever find her.

In the rising heat of the sun, the air shimmered slightly around the traveler. Nobody paid attention to it as she slumped down against a rather sturdy wall and tipped her head toward the ground. The greatest perk of being attuned with light magic was not in the raw destructive potential it contained, but in the subtlety of its workings. Looking directly at her face, a casual observer would remark that she had always lived in the ruins. A wonderous mask of light, bent and shifted to hide her true identity adorned her face, aging and adding in the imperfections a life in the slums awarded.

It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. They were looking for someone that wasn't her, and that was good enough for now. Eventually they might wise up and send someone who could actually track her, someone who could see through her magical guise, but until then, she'd be safe here, and that was good enough for now.

[Leopold]

Though Leopold had spent much of the recent few months tending to the needs of the broken kingdom of Salvar, this was the first time he had really given the time to seeing it first-hand. Out in Knife’s Edge shanty town, he was getting to grips with the desolation the Winchester Rose Trading Company had vowed to regenerate. He was not a proud man, nor was he snobbish, but even he had trouble keeping his nose from wrinkling with prudish disgust every time they turned a corner.

“This is a splendid town, do you not think, sir?” Wilfred, his curious man servant, continued his upbeat attempt to wind up his employer. Between drags of his hand-rolled cigarette and shuffling boots, Leopold caught him smiling with bemusement. “We really ought to stay a while, take in the sights, and catch a show!” he chuckled again, but stopped when he saw the stare thrown at him.

“It is not a laughing matter, Wilfred. People here are suffering because of the Church.”

“Yes sir,” he continued to walk, grumbling every step of the way. “Quite right you are.”

“We promised to help them by bringing in lumber and ore from Scara Brae’s more than ample stockpiles to help them rebuild Knife’s Edge after Denebriel’s demise. Sure,” Leopold shrugged with a non-chalant abandonment of his serious moral lecture, “we make a pretty profit from the devastation, but its profit at the solution of a serious sociological problem.”

They continued to walk through the zig-zag streets side by side, hearts on sleeves, and silence following them wherever they went. Leopold’s black waistcoats were immaculately clean amidst the dusty borders, broken rooftops, and still smouldering embers of the inner city rubbish fires. Both gentlemen had long since stopped paying attention to the odour that clung to their nostrils, driven to new heights of presence by the halcyon sun.

“Somewhere out here, we will find someone that needs our kind and good hearted nature. Hopefully, we can use this opportunity to our advantage.” Leopold plucked a scrap of paper out of his overcoat pocket and stopped at a crossroad. He examined the hastily scribbled map and details he had taken down from the messenger before they had departed the trading outpost.

“How do you hope to do that, sir?” Wilfred rolled his eyes. There was a hair brained scheme afoot, he could tell. There was always a hair brained scheme, when Leopold was concerned.

“If we help this individual…disappear, then not only do the Church lose face, but we can also extort them with false information. We can pass ourselves off as slavers who lost a prize catch, direct their reserves to a dangerous part of the wilds, and make sure they…do not return.” He pierced the rubble on the eastern road, and looked to the west. Both roads looked equally as dangerous, and both had no sense of fortune about them. He looked south, where the sun intensified through the tall and ruined spires, and put away the map.

“Do you ever not have a back-up plan, sir?” Wilfred tossed his dog end to the dirt, and screwed his boot over it to extinguish the ember.

“Life is one long back-up plan, Wilfred. I did not get where I am today sitting idly by whilst opportunities went about their merry way.” He scratched his head, torn between random searching and making his intentions a little more clear. He had a plan, by all means, but how he made that plan known to the fugitive was, for the time being, beyond his keen intellect.

“That’s very good sir, very good.” The butler buried his hands into the fur-lined pockets of his duster and shuffled in a circle. He peered through his thick rimmed spectacles at each of the winding roads that lead away from the crossing of ways. He was, to say the least, quite lost. “Which way do we go?”

Leopold gestured south with a nod. He broke into a heavy footed walk without further declaration, his boots scrunching the dirt, and his cane tapping a third note to his sturdy frame’s advance. He kept his keen gaze on every huddled beggar, prostitute, and deranged prophet of the end of the world. One of them, just one, was the sort of person he very much wanted to catch the attention of.

If the woman was a preacher of the Sway, even a fallen one, surely she would notice an Old God roaming the holiest of cities as bold as brass?

[Lyla Erben]

Lyla had never been very attuned to the spiritual side of things, even in her training. Sure she had tried to commune with the Sway, but there was a rather sizable difference between saying words and getting a response. What she did have were smarts. She could recognize power in a man walking dangerous streets with naught but a butler beside him. She could hear context in words, listen to a conversation hidden beneath layers of meaningless drivel. She could figure out when someone was looking for her, but for what reason, that was beyond her expertise.

Smarts also meant the ability to realize that this man could very well be hunting her. She had not ventured far from the outskirts of the ruined quarter before settling down the first time. Anyone looking for her would probably assume her to be hiding well within the labyrinthine walls of the dilapidated buildings and rubble. The well-to-do man had ventured farther in, and for some reason, she had started to follow him. It was disturbingly easy. He didn't care to cover his intentions, and he appeared to be taking a mostly random route.

Unfortunately, she wasn't always smart. There were times when she was rather stupid. Directions were a particularly bad weakness of her mind, and with all the turns the man was taking, she had become rather hopelessly lost. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. If this turned out bad, she could easily lose the man and spend any number of days finding her way back out on her own time. The fugitive set her face in stone, took a deep breath, and sped up her steps. The pair would probably hear her by now, but hopefully they'd assume it was nothing.

“Oof. Ah, sorry mister!”

Head tipped down, she had accidentally ran straight into the man with the cane. Her hands were somewhat clumsy, but she still managed to slip one into one of his pockets, hoping to draw out something of value. In hindsight, she would probably mark this as an incredibly numbskull moment, but she didn't have any other ideas for a good introduction. Also, nobody had tried to pickpocket the man yet, so she figured the attempt was due. Plan B was always hidden in her bundle if she absolutely needed it.

[Leopold]

It was Wilfred, the eternally vigilant manservant that reacted first, and not the victim of the crime. Leopold could only balk and appear confused as his employee drew a slender dagger from beneath his overcoat, twirled on a heel, and snap to guard duty. His wizened features examined the coy looking girl, her beleaguered expression, and every single facet of their current circumstances. His movements were quick, almost like lightning when contrasted with his ageing body. He cycled about Leopold to form a blockade between his employer and the strange girl.

“What,” he spat, “the fuck do you think you’re doing, girl?”

“Don’t do that, Wilfred my good man.” Leopold’s tone spoke more than his words did. It was a dressing down that the old man could not resist.

“I am sorry sir.” He sheathed his blade and stood upright, finding his tall nature to be just as much of a weapon over the theocratic wretch than cold, trustworthy, and reliable steel.

“Who, my dear, are you?” Leopold rested his hand on his pockets, realising quite alarmingly that they were considerably lighter now, and without as much prominence about his girth. “I would also hazard to ask why you deemed me a target worthy of your petty attention?” his bulging features, though masqueraded behind a thick, smoke stained beard, detruded from his form with a rugged, rocklike determination.

Wilfred shrugged. He was quite happy to defend his liege with an iron edict, but his liege, it appeared, favoured words. He sheathed his dagger and attended to his moustache, which was wiry, eschew, and slowly but surely freezing. Even in the shelter of the ruins of Knife’s Edge, the cold gale howling eternal of Salvar’s mountainous region permeated the jagged outcrops of once glorious architecture.

“Don’t hold up now, we are looking for a woman of faith, and we are not the sort of gentlemen to be held up in our business.” Leopold’s glare oppressed the ages themselves. Time, about his gravity, swelled in the maelstrom of his malefic.

[Lyla Erben]

Amazement and bewilderment mixed on the thief's face as she tumbled quite painfully to the ground. How she had actually managed to snag something from the man was far beyond her understanding, but even more amazing was the speed at which the butler, of all things, reacted. Steel, harsh words, and an incredibly imposing demeanor... nothing she hadn't dealt with before, but in her situation now, she was suitably terrified.

“I... I'm sorry... I'm just hungry and poor. You looked rich... and you were walking around the area. I'll never do it again, I swear!”

They were looking for a woman of faith. Obviously her, but maybe not so obvious because her disguise still held firm to her face and skin. There was no way she could trust them yet; they didn't exactly say why they were looking for this woman, after all. A chill wind picked up and Lyla drew her modest coverings tighter around her body. Sure the armor in her sack would be much warmer, but it would also give her away instantly.

“I might be able to help, maybe... I saw a woman a few days ago, had a smart look about her. Wore some armor with a pretty shade of blue all over. I may not know much about faith, but she was nervous, running from something. I... if you aren't going to hurt her, that is, I could point you toward where she's staying now...”

[Leopold]

Leopold grit his teeth as he teetered between violence and listening. When the rude girl interjected with an offer to help, the need to strike her with a swift back hand fled his shaking limbs with a rush of energy. Wilfred, ever the shrew, could only cluck and roll his eyes when he saw his master’s legendary leniency and kindness rear its ugly head once more.

“A woman you say?” he raised his eyebrow. Atop a grizzled, gruff, and weathered expression, the merchant tried to mount the best smile he could muster given the inhospitable landscape of knife’s edge. Though the sun was shining in Salvar’s ruptured capital, it was still bitterly cold to the Scara Brae noble.

“If I may, sir,” Wilfred interrupted. He raised a decrepit finger to the wind, a scholarly symbol that he had something of immediate concern for his employer. Leopold had seen that same finger enough time to have learnt to trust it impeccably.

“Go on…” he grumbled, his sated ego wavering.

“To forgive a criminal for her crimes, only to take her into your confidence, is inviting a snake into your bed…” his placid tone faded as he stared at the woman with the sort of expression that could shatter rock. It put Leopold on edge, but not because his manservant was wrong, but rather, because he was exactly right.

“I appreciate your concern, Wilfred,” he turned to his would be pick pocket reformed and smiled warmly. “However, I do believe it has all been a strange, misfortunate, and easily forgettable misunderstanding…” there was rhetoric in his words that formed a question to the girl, but appeased Wilfred’s doubts with a statement at the same time. Leopold had no doubt that this woman, as plain in appearance and mannerisms as she was, was hiding something most peculiar from him.

If he had been wearing attire more resplendent than his military overcoat, tattered gold threaded waistcoat, and his cigar smoke scented bowler hat, he might have fallen for the financial appraisal she had tried to smooth him over with. Even though Salvar herself was devastated, there were plenty of near do-gooders roaming even the slums dressed in considerably more expensive attire than he. He had no stomach for grievous bodily harm, theft, and murder, so he mouthed his reply with an honest smile.

“Please, m’lady, show us this woman. We have every intention of helping her leave the city, and the subsequent tyranny of the oppressive church.” He left out the details of why, and settled for an earnest expression of complacency. “You have my word, she will not be harmed, nor a hair misplaced on her head.”

[Lyla Erben]

The beggar swallowed hard. Just how accepting was this man? She had just tried to rob him (very clumsily), offered to help him find someone (herself), and he was just going to let her lead? Sure it meant having her back to them... and the butler did have that knife. Chill winds relented for a few moments of gentle clarity. The sun was high, but still a ways down its arc. Night time would be coming soon, and she didn't want to sleep outside in the cold. Again.

“I don't get it.”

Head hung low, the girl shuffled over to the nearest wall and leaned against it, sliding her back down the dusty rubble until she was curled up like any other beggar in the cold. Her arms were wrapped around her folded legs and she nervously shifted back and forth.

“I just don't understand... what kind of man are you?” The beggar's voice had something a little off about it now, and perhaps since she started talking the first time. Her words were enunciated a little too well for someone as down on their luck as she seemed. “I try to steal from you, you dismiss it after an apology. I offer help, and you take it unquestioningly.” Her face was slightly different now; there was no grime or dirt covering it. “Your manservant is right, or at least more right than you. You should be furious. You should be doubting my every word. You should be leaving me behind as you continue your righteous quest or something.”

Standing up from her slump, slender curves slowly become more pronounced as layers upon layers of illusory magic fade into the aether like heat rippling from desert sand. “You give promises that you shouldn't. You trust an absolute stranger who somehow has information on the exact woman you search for. I would be amazed you could survive at all in this world, but here you are before me, as I am here before you.”

“I am a liar and a cheat. A traitor to a church that cared more for controlling me than nurturing me. My family believes me to be dead. What friends I made now hunt me. Tell me why you trust this liar's words knowing as much as you obviously do. Tell me why I should trust you.”

[Leopold]

Leopold remained motionless for a few moments, his mind trying to analyse the situation without giving too much of his thoughts away. Whilst he turned statuesque, Wilfred only grew more animated. His mouth stained with tobacco smoke, red with cold, and curled with sarcasm lashed out his bemusement.

“I told you, milord, I bloody well told you.” He folded his arms over his chest, and slipped his hand into his under sleeve pocket to settle his sweaty fingers onto the hilt of his concealed blades. Though wiry, old, and not so light on his feet anymore, the butler was very capable of being the one that did it if needs be. “We should gut her, leave her here. It is where the filth and the pigs of faith belong.” He spat. The gobbet of phlegm struck the dirt unceremoniously.

“Now, Wilfred, stop that. Whilst I appreciate your concern, I believe the good lady here was only vouching for her own best interests.” His stoic grimace finally broke into something approaching warm and friendly. The face of Leopold Winchester was suited to many things, but anger was not one of them. He was fond of compassion, mercantile grace, and occasionally romance. He liked to skip straight past anger and slip into displeasure, dissatisfaction, and guilt inducing sulks instead.

“Yes milord,” he said with the sort of expression on his face that could turn milk sour. He dropped his hands harmlessly to his sides, but remained ever vigilant in his duty. He scoured every inch of the woman for the slightest indication that something was more untoward than already was. If she made a move for Leopold’s pockets again, he would be ready.

“As for you milady, allow me to alleviate a few of your suspicions. The sort of man I am is open for debate, but I daresay I am the sort you are looking for.” Leopold had in fact no idea what sort of man her woes were looking for. He only hoped their mutual interests would get them together in a brokered deal. “The thievery was no sleight on my person. You took nothing of worth, and I was not harmed in the process. It was in that same circumstance that I met, and subsequently hired Mr Stebbins here,” he nodded at Wilfred, who flinched at the pronunciation of his formal name.

“You will never let me forget it either,” he rolled his eyes. Leopold clucked timely, and turned back to Lyla.

“As for trust, good lord, I insist you do not trust me in the least bit. In fact, I want you to treat me with the upmost suspicion for every single second of our encounter. It might end in a moment, or a lifetime, it matters not. I trust only two people in the world my lady, one of them is my wife, and the other is Wilfred.” This time, the butler managed a smile, but it was short lived. “So please, let us do away with mistrust, suspicion, and intrigue. I sought you out to help, and in helping you, I help myself.” He sighed.“It is not often a noble admits he is being selfish,” he added, in a bid to appeal to the girl’s lingering pious morals. Though she wished to escape The Sway, the butler had been there, done that, and got the whip lashes to know some of that dogma stayed with you. “A nobleman does keep his word, though.” He very much wanted to add ‘most of the time’, but he valued his pay too much to test Leopold’s patience.

“Now, you can stay here my lady, and steal from the misfortunate in the soft touch of sunlight.” He turned his right foot, which scraped the dirt, and made to leave. “Or you can follow me to the Winchester Rose Outpost east of here.” He turned fully and took several eager steps away from the rubble slum. “There, you will find a wagon departing for the port, the sea, and whatever home from home you wish to find beyond these laminable steppes and broken citadels.” Wilfred turned and began to follow his master, and when he levelled shoulder to shoulder, they matched one another’s pace and made down the street. Leopold’s face was plastered with an all knowing smile, and Wilfred rolled his eyes.

He too grinned from ear to ear, and leant over to whisper.

“Well played, milord.”“Well played, Wilfred. Now,” he adjusted his waistcoat, and cocked his ear subtly to his rear for the hopeful sounds of footsteps in quick pursuit.

“Let us hope we have captured the imagination of our little would be stowaway.”

[Dissinger]

Title: To steal Faith from the Faithless
Song: Caustic are the Ties that Bind - Trivium

Plot 13/30 – This plot is abruptly short, and perhaps it’s to this thread’s credit that it is so short. This reads more vignette than a real story unfortunately due to the fact that there is no complication with what is going on, its this whole feeling that the story was meant to be more that hurts you here. She revealed herself and I get that she up and disappeared, but its still hurtful to the thread it was so straightforward. It misses that element of intrigue such an endeavor implies. The brutally short story is just that, brutally short without a lot of time devoted to developing what’s happening. It’s just “wham bam thank you ma’am.”

Character 10/30 – Character suffered greatly here as there is literally no development that gives me insight to these people. The emotional breakdown of Lyla was so abrupt with no explanation. It was like she snapped in the head when she couldn’t figure out Leopold and perhaps with a bit of epilogue to such a breakdown it would have made sense, but as it stands it just confuses me to no end. Leopold is inscrutable and I’m not sure if that’s because of who he is, or because I’m being teased into reading more to catch a glimpse of the so called “old God”.

Prose 18/30 – Writing here was sufficient to keep me engaged, while being clean enough to not cause too many hang ups. I got a Spartan feeling to your style Lyla and that’s something that can work, but needs just a little more depth. You’re like a chicken wing, you got some meat to you, but I’d like you to be a leg where I can really sink my teeth into ya.

Wildcard 7/10 – It’s too bad this thread died, or I would have enjoyed it more to see the fallout of such an intriguing story being developed.

Total – 48

Leopold Winchester gets 330 EXP and 48 Gold.
Lyla Erben gets 240 EXP and 38 Gold.

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.