• Solo • Farewell to Fleaface[Mature] (Graded)

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37th of Vhalar 719

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Woe
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Farewell to Fleaface[Mature] (Graded)


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37th of Vhalar 719

Just like his carapace arms were just there whenever Woe wished to call upon them, the Webspinner had discovered other abilities in his time. Among these, one that he’d come to prize in his work as a torturer. While some perverse individuals actually enjoyed the lash of a whip or a bit of light mutilation, Woe had discovered that most people didn’t take kindly to being tortured. They didn’t take any kindlier toward those who perpetrated acts of torture. So it was, that Woe found his ability to make people, forget, individual bits of information. If he concentrated hard enough, he could even cause some people to forget about him entirely, although this supposedly came with the added negative of Woe’s forgetting the person he’d forced to ignore him.

So it was, he used it at need. His need just happened to be great, of recent trials. And so the ability found to use against all manner of folk, whether they be accomplices, victims, or allies. If he found it no longer useful to be remembered by such a person, he could permanently erase his memories of that one, as well as their memories of him. He only needed to meet them face to face.

It was with a heavy heart that Woe remove Fleaface from his service. While it might’ve been easier to murder the poor hapless man, leaving bodies in one’s wake, more than was necessary, was asking for trouble. Especially given Woe’s lack of skill for hiding said bodies. A professional would have done the job alright, but every fraying end left another to be discovered. It didn’t matter how dearly an assassin held his reputation for discretion. Woe knew well enough that such silence could be explored and violated by all manner of methods, not limited to marks and magic.

He’d called for Fleaface from his office, which stood just over the trap door leading into his dungeon. Fleaface appeared swiftly at his door and doffed his cap with a dirty grin, “Mornin’ Master. Whatcher want?”

Woe smiled thinly at him, giving him one look and then rising from his chair. “I was wondering if you were up for going to the Hookah Den. My nerves are in the dustbin of late, and I need to take the edge off.”

If it were possible, the pug-faced Fleaface grinned more full than before, “Yer payin’?”

Woe rolled his eyes. Did Fleaface really need to ask?



A break later, they entered the vapor filled room, and Woe led Fleaface toward a nearby hookah. Woe winced at the cloying aroma of the opiate vapors, and even more suspect at the pipe through which customers were expected to inhale. He pretended to take the vapor, and of course, some of it entered his mouth as it wafted. But he did not inhale.

A moment later, Fleaface joined him, a bushel of fragrant herbs in his hand. These, he placed within the hookah’s chamber. It freshened up the smell of the opium considerably or at least mitigated the cloying scent of the tar. Fleaface took a few puffs, then blew circles at Woe’s face, quite rudely.

Woe almost felt terrible about what he was going to do. He needed to talk to Fleaface, to make sure this was really what he wanted. To make sure that he wasn’t just casting Fleaface to the wolves. Hopefully, ignorance would save Fleaface from any association to Woe, when the Webspinner left Etzos. Yet he had to make a clean break. It was the only way to ensure his relative anonymity and that of his activities. Fleaface had proven discrete so far, but he couldn’t count on him when he abandoned him and left Etzos. The least Woe could do is slip him a purse to cover his living for a while, until he found his feet.
word count: 661
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Woe
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Re: Farewell to Fleaface[Mature]


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They sat for breaks in that vaporous den, Woe fighting the effects fo second-hand inhalation of the fumes. Nevertheless, his head was still swimming with the effects of those vapors. He decided after some talk with Fleaface, that it'd do well for them to forget each other. Good for Fleaface, good for Woe.

"Fargis." Woe began, looking at the other man in the eye, and tapping him on the shoulder. "I wondered if you might take this coin off my hands... cover your debt to the master of this den."

Fleaface turned to face him, his eyes widening as a small bag of nels appeared in front of his face. He took it swiftly, as was his custom, and brought it to his ear to try and suss out the contents of gold and silver. Apparently satisfied with the proportion therein, he smiled and nodded to Woe. "Oy master... Be right back!"

But before he could get up, Woe grasped him by the bicep, and looked at him in the eye. In that instant, Woe erased all memories that the two shared together. All connections, however elementary. Even the fact that Woe had paid him were removed. By the end of the process, Woe felt tired, as if he'd aged a couple of years. True enough, he saw gray growing in the hairs of his beard, and in his head of hair. He had, in fact, aged a year or two more, and the stress of it had set him to graying.

Nevertheless, he found himself alone in the opium parlor, as the strange man whose arm he grasped shook free of it, giving him an odd look before going to pay the woman with his newly found purse. Woe sat stunned, wondering what had just happened, and why he found himself in a parlor of drug-addicts. Then he remembered, he'd been coming here for a few tentrials or so.

He took another puff of the vapor, before rising to his feet, shakily. Then, with his head still swimming with the vapors, he wandered out into the streets.

It would soon be time to arrange for his departure from Etzos. He'd exhausted every effort to try and contact the Divine One, and was about finished trying to get noticed by her, to receive the slightest acknowledgment or attention. At times, he wondered if he was truly a part of the Webspinners, as one raised outside of Labrae's orbit. Perhaps not. Perhaps he was just another wishful idiot, thinking himself part of a shadowy organization. More likely he was yet another hobo or fool that had latched onto the coattails of something or someone greater.

I'm no webspinner. Thought Woe, with no small amount of grouse. That is why I've been ignored. I have no place in her manipulations, her schemes and traps. Except perhaps as the fool that wandered into thinking he might be special.

A break or so through the streets, Woe arrived at his own home, and there entered.

He went through the door to his front parlor, then into the hallways, second door to the left, his office of sorts. There were no papers there, as Woe didn't like to keep a paper trail. Perhaps another mark against him as a potential webspinner, knowing how much those folks liked to leave notes behind, like fucking amateur spies.

Perhaps he was better off without them. He had his own life to live.
word count: 584
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Re: Farewell to Fleaface[Mature]

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Woe:

Knowledge:
Acting: Inviting someone out on false pretenses.
Intelligence: A drug parlor isn't a bad place to lose an associate.
Intelligence: Making your key asset forget about you.
Intelligence: It's easier to make people forget about you, rather than killing them.
Resistance: Opium parlors are full of disease.
Resistance: Secondhand inhalation of drugged vapors.

Loot: -1 Fleaface
Wealth: -2 WP
Injuries: Woe aged a couple of arcs because he used his Mortalborn abilities too often.
Renown: 0
Magic XP: -
Points: 10
- - -
Comments: I enjoyed this thread. Your writing is quite easy to read!

Woe’s Mortalborn abilities sound really useful. I especially like the one that causes a person to forget him and that causes him to forget them. It’s a good alternative to murdering someone and hiding their body!

I thought it was really nice of Woe to give Fleaface a bit of money before he left. I wonder if Woe will be more careful when it comes to using his abilities now that his hair is beginning to turn gray though!

By the way, your solo was a little on the short side (1.259 words).

Anyway, enjoy your rewards!

word count: 196

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