The Whisper: Sibling Rivalry (Graded)

[Neronin]

Saun 50th, 718 Arc
Underground, Etzos

The woman hesitantly stepped up to the door, raised her hand, and paused. She backed away before knocking and turned to her brother. He stared back at her nervously, his eyes darted back and forth in the Underground passage. The small brass lamp he had carried with them seemed woefully inadequate in the depths of this place.

“You really believe it’s necessary?” She asked, uncertainty blending with hope. She sounded as though she wanted her brother to deny it so they could forget this dark place. He seemed built of stronger stuff, though.

“I know it is. They say the thing can find anything out if you have the coin.” Her brother’s scared rasp came wavering in the damp silence. He reached up and knocked hard on the door once. It was unlocked and opened inward slowly as he did so. “Come on, it is almost midnight. It…wakes at midnight.” He lead the way inside and the girl followed.

They both felt their eyes drawn expectantly to the thin mannequin slumped in the chair. The candle on the small table next to it flickered where it sat lit. It was eerie to think someone had been here to light it. The prospect lent a dark life to the room that kept both siblings hovering near the doorway. “What if it attacks us?” The sister asked hesitantly, shuffling closer to the side of her brother.

“It won’t.” Her brother replied uncertainly. “It takes gold for information.”

“Who told you of this? This doesn’t exactly seem a savory place for people like us to come with our problems.” The sister pestered again. Once again her tone colored with the doubt and critique it often took with her younger brother. His fear and apprehension were replaced somewhat by a dark clouding of defiance.

“I was told by a merchant friend of mine. He says that this is the place to come if you need information and don’t want people to be the wiser about your asking. He said he came once and the mannequin required just three trials to find all his rivals and…” Her brother trailed off.

“Ah what? Kill them?” She asked, eyeing the inanimate mannequin.

“No!” Her brother shook his head. “Gregory is not that type of businessman.” He waved a hand. “And… inform him how best to maintain his profits.” The boy said, his eyes looking worried. “In truth, I don’t know what he was told, but he was damn lucky that next season. Nearly all his shipments came through unharmed and in good order.”

The mannequin slumped forward and both siblings started. They stared down at the thing, their breath coming in hard and fast. The thing did not move for a long moment, then it lifted it’s small head and they saw the carved eyes glowed a vile, bright green. It did not move from the chair, but slid its head back to survey them like some tiny king on its battered throne.

“What?” It asked shortly, the ethereal voice emitting from the carved wooden gash that was its unmoving mouth.

The sister whimpered into her hands, but the brother stepped forward a bit. “We require your services…Whisper.” He said, his voice cracking. The mannequin shifted its wooden head slightly to focus more on the brother. It’s small arms crossed and it tapped a single tiny wooden finger on its own elbow. “Our family has recently come into some misfortune in our business.” The boy seemed to stumble over his words, looking for the correct way to phrase his problem. The mannequin seemed unwilling to prompt him in any way, simply continuing to survey him blankly.

[Neronin]

“Our father has a horseflesh business that caters particularly to the Etzori Army and the Black Guard. His business has been suffering because rumors have been spreading around the city about him secretly poisoning our beloved grandfather to inherit.” The girl said to the enchanted mannequin. It’s gaze turned to her and the thing seemed to lean forward a fraction.

“What do you desire?” The mannequin asked in a careful tone, it’s words weighing heavy.

The siblings looked at eachother and grimaced. “We believe… that is to say, my brother believes our uncle is to blame for these rumors.” She eyed her brother again. “Also… for the poisoning.” The words were a deep accusation, and speaking them to the mannequin made their contemplation more real than anything else had. The thing said nothing and made no motion. After a moment it reached down and pushed itself to the edge of the chair with tiny wooden hands.

“You make big accusations.” It said, its tone musing. It strummed its fingers against the wooden stool with a quick, harsh tap tap tap. “What do you desire, though?” It asked again, the voice thick with ritual.

“We want you to find out if this is true. We want to find a way to bring down our uncle.” The brother said, his voice straining with anger and frustration. The mannequin leaned back slightly, nodding. It understood anger, it dealt with anger and frustration and hate. It finally seemed to be taking them seriously.

“What if it is not true.” The mannequin inquired.

“We want to bring him down anyway.” The sister said quickly.

The mannequin almost seemed to grin. It clapped it's hands together once with a dull wooden thud and rubbed them. “Name and description? Where does he live and where does he go?” The mannequin’s tone took on a businesslike air. It did not produce anything to take notes on, simply stared at them.

“His name is Mal Shelkor, and he lives in a manor house near the Tower. It’s got a garden in the back and a balcony overlooking it where he hires musicians for his parties. He is found most often found at Inn for Dinner with his stinking political friends. He’s a shit of a man, greasy hair and always in a fine cloak. He wears leather riding gloves and an ornate sword with a green tassel our grandfather gave him. Fucking ironic, that.” The brother said, snorting.

“Three trials, bring the fourty gold nels here at midnight.” The mannequin said simply. Then it waved them out of the room. Hesitating, the two looked at each other and backed out.

“You don’t need anything else?” The sister called.

“He’ll be found and found out. Scram.” The mannequin said, slumping back in the chair. It’s eyes faded back to the painted black and they somehow knew the demonic presence that had been there was gone. The scene was all the more eerie for the magical exit. Her brother shut the door.

“Now do you believe me?”

“What, by all the Immortals, have you gotten us into?” She shuddered.

[Neronin]

Elsewhere Neronin’s mind slid back into place in his own head. He cleared his throat and contemplated this Mal Shelkor. He inventoried any pertinent knowledge he had of the horseflesh industry here in Etzos. He was marching deeper into Shadeblade territory. Perhaps Hessia would find value in the information that a prominent horse merchant and friend to the Black Guard and Army was suffering? Neronin hadn’t been in his office for the session with the siblings, but on his way to Madam Hessia to make a payment on his outstanding loan. He tapped his purse and wondered if there was a way to cause more destabilization for Vuda in this.

He often felt like a man tugging at tight strands in a great knot, trying to unravel it. Etzos was indeed tightly tangled, and perhaps unraveling the city would cause a change in the power hierarchy. The people who suffered, his people, would benefit from such an unraveling.

Neronin was caught by surprise when two figures slipped out of the shadows ahead of him. He raised his hands and peered at them as they became more clear. “Who’s this, wandering into the black unarmed?” Said the smaller figure.

“Hello, Vadrassar.” Neronin said, not bothering to introduce himself. They knew him well, as Hessia was his patron.

“Hey Neronin. Good to see you still about. You’re looking uglier and uglier.” Vadrassar, Hessia’s hound of a mage, said with a wicked grin. He was a dangerous man. Besides Hessia herself, Vadrassar was the only other member of the gang that concerned Neronin on his own.

“You here to see her? If I remember correctly there's a few hundred nel between you and square, Neronin.” Bhor, the massive lieutenant said, hefting the iron shod club he always carried. This man always remembered correctly. Neronin would be damned if Bhor didn’t remember the exact amount he owed Hessia.

“Well I’m here to close that distance.” Neronin said coolly. “And I’ve got something interesting to discuss with her that may bring some luck to the Shadeblades.” He added, not quite smiling.

Bhor grinned. People willingly repaying their debts to his mistress always made him happy. He lead the way back down the dark passage towards Hessia’s tavern headquarters. Vadrassar was peering suspiciously at Neronin. They had always distrusted each other on principle. Mages were not to be trusted, and no one knew that better than other mages. But Neronin was concerned with more pressing matters now, like how he would turn this information to his advantage.

[Mads]

Neronin:

Whisper, Marrow, Cryptlord

Knowledge.........

Business Management: Leveraging Information
Business Management: Seeking Alternative Opportunity

Intelligence: Masking your Identity with a Doll
Intelligence: Learn Enough to Find the Mark
Intelligence: Probe for Answers

NPC: Vadrassar: Shadeblade Mage
NPC: Mal Shelkor, Etzori Businessman and possible murderer
Location: The Whisper Business

Loot....................

None

Consequence......

None

Renown..............

None

Experience...........

10

Nero! The word "it's" is a contraction for "it is"; the proper possessive is "its". Otherwise, excellent writing. The build-up and ambience setting for the interation with the fetch was soooo good. I won't say it gave me chills, but I definitely saw the scene pictured perfectly in my mind - and not that sort of dreamy half-imagry but a solid consistent depiction. It's a really clever way of gaining intel on things going on without putting himself directly at risk. But, then again, Vuda does that and better so... who knows if the risk is actually minimized at all? Teehee!

Please edit your grade request.

Code: Select all

[center][img]/gallery/image/15032/medium[/img][/center]