Moonlighting

[Lylessa Uluki]

((This thread takes place at approximately the same time as "Hard Truths": http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=1650))



((NPC Post))

Delphina huddled in her cloak, keeping the chilly night air at bay. She walked quickly, her rapid stride a mixture of reaction to the cold, eagerness to be at her destination, and anger at two men. The first man was Rollick, who had rebuffed her advances and made her feel unpleasantly unwanted— not the usual state for a woman who was both beautiful and extremely free with her affections. The other was Ambrose, her man, not her husband but as good as, and what right did he have to get all irate with her for trying to break the fairy spell on Rollick, when clearly it was in all of their best interests that she do so? All men were fools, and all men were blind, and Delphina intended to squeeze some bishani out of a few of them tonight, because that was all the brutes and buggers were good for.

That morning she had protested quite vehemently to Rollick that she was no longer a whore, but as the day had worn on and she’d had time to consider her feelings (and then to fight with Ambrose,) she’d realized there was really no good reason to give it up. Delphina had hated the brothel and working for Snyde, enduring his beatings and turning over what little money she made to add to his coffers, but though she’d been a prostitute since she was very young, she hadn’t always worked for the crime boss. At first she hadn’t worked for anyone, and she’d kept all the money she made, till Snyde made clear his position on freelancers in his territory, and threatened and intimidated her into working for him instead. Truth be told, it was Snyde she had minded, not the whoring. You got a mean client now and then and you had a bad time of it, but working for herself instead of Snyde she could choose who she saw or didn’t see, and would try to pick decent sorts. She was far past the point of seeing the sex as anything much, and with her needs provided for by those do-gooders at the military base, any money she made could, for once in her life, be used for luxuries. That was worth sneaking out to spend a little time on her back.

She wouldn’t go back to the shanty town to ply her trade. She was no idiot, and knew the kind of welcome she could expect from Snyde— the kind where they’d find you floating in the river a few days later, missing some parts. No, she’d best stay away from Snyde, but there were other places. She could wait near the doorway of one of the cheaper drinking establishments, not much of a step above the shanty town but outside of Snyde’s control, and surely pick up some custom. Delphina was young, and comely, and quite willing; she wouldn’t have any trouble finding a man willing to part with some coin in exchange for her favours.

Once outside a rundown tavern called The Grumpy Cricket, she shrugged off the cloak and stood in the pool of light cast by the open window, fully aware of how the glow turned her sheer dress enticingly translucent, and shone on her slender, bare arms. She stood there nearly an hour doing her best to look attractive and available, but no one paid her much mind; they were too drunk to bother with a whore, the night was too chilly to make a man inclined to stay out in it, and they only wanted to go home and sleep it off to prepare for the next night’s drinking. Just as she was about to leave to find a likelier spot, though, she noticed the man watching her.

At first her heart skipped a few beats thinking it was Snyde, but when she’d looked at him for a second she realized he wasn’t like Snyde at all. While Snyde was thin and dark-haired and weasely, this man was broad and golden-haired, with more the look of a big bear than a weasel. Nor was he likely to be one of Snyde’s henchmen. They were mostly dead, and anyway the man was much better dressed than Snyde and his boys. This man looked rich, like a lord or a count or something, and he was looking at her like he wanted her. He met her frank stare with a smile, and beckoned her over. This just might be her lucky night. Without hesitation she joined the stranger in the shadows.

“You looking for a woman, mister?” It was a line she’d used often enough in the shanty town where men weren’t particular— not the sort of thing you ought to say to a fine lord, but Delphina didn’t have a whole lot of material.

“Yes,” he whispered softly, his lips mere inches from her ear. “But not just any woman. A special woman. Do you think you might be such a person?”

“Sure, mister. I can be whatever you want me to. I ain’t shy.” She gave him what passed for a seductive smile.

“You came from the compound in the Industrial District, I think?”

Delphina suddenly felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. Just how long had this man been following her, and why? If he’d only wanted a whore, why all the trouble? Marn wasn’t exactly short on women willing to trade pleasure for coin. Was this one of Snyde’s men after all, in spite of the fancy clothes? “Yeah. What of it?”

“And what is your name, fair lady?”

“Delphina.” She should have given him a false name, but her real one had slipped out before she’d thought of it.

“A pleasure, Miss Delphina.” He took her hand and kissed it, something no one had ever done in her whole life, not even Ambrose. “I think you can be of use to me this night.”

“Fine with me. You want to go in the alley, or get a room in the tavern? Only if it’s the tavern, you’re going to have to pay for it…”

He held up a hand to silence her. “The tavern. I will see to arranging for the room. And there’s something else you could help me with, fair lady.” Sensing her readiness to chime in again, he hastily added, “A matter outside the bedchamber, though I shall expect your full attention there too. I speak now of a matter which concerns people we both know, and which has brought great tragedy upon my family…”

[Lylessa Uluki]

((NPC Post))

Delphina couldn’t help the tears that sprung to her eyes as Lord Honey Hair showed her the drawing of his two dear little children, who were stolen away as little more than infants. She reached out and touched the parchment with trembling fingers. “Your daughters are so lovely.”

Hornwood was amused by her reaction, though his face never lost its sad, earnest expression; as a noble and a prominent citizen, he was too used to playing the game to let his true feelings show. Delphina seemed to be buying his act whole cloth, and was particularly touched by the drawing— although the rendition of Dash as a child was based on a small oil painting of Kira at the same age, and what Zee would have looked like when she was little was pure conjecture. “I thank you. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of my poor little ones, so cruelly ripped from the bosom of our family after the unfortunate death of my wife.”

Delphina made a sympathetic noise. “I’m so sorry for you, my lord.” He hadn’t been willing to give her his real name because he feared the fairy’s spies or spells, so she called him “my lord” and thought of him as “Lord Honey Hair.”

Hornwood looked carefully downcast. “It is a tragedy. Sometimes I think, if I’d only been more vigilant…”

“No, my lord. There wasn’t nothing you could have done. The fairy is crafty. She seems to treat your daughters well, though, if that’s any comfort to you. I suppose she just wanted them because they were so sweet and pretty, and her own ugly little changeling isn’t as loveable as a human child. It’s just a shame she had to go and steal yours.”

Hornwood looked at her. “She treats them well, you say? Yet her spells have made a twisted mockery of their once lovely forms. It seems she has made them scarcely human. Yet they are my own, my flesh and blood, and even that couldn’t make me stop loving them. My dear Dacia and Izona…”

Delphina was almost overcome with sympathy and affection for Lord Honey Hair, for his bravery and compassion and love for his damaged daughters. He was a good man, strong and true, that was for bloody sure. Delphina’s heart warmed to him as it never had to a client… or even to Ambrose, her own lover. “That’s so sweet, mister. My lord. No doubt your girls miss you something awful… or at least they would if the fairy hadn’t bewitched them. It just ain’t right, them not being with their real family.”

Hornwood’s gaze was intense. “Will you help me, then?”

Delphina was puzzled. “What do you mean, my lord? You mean sex? Make you feel better, forget your troubles?” She couldn’t think of any other help she could really offer.

His eyes flashed with impatience, but he quickly suppressed it. “You will indeed pleasure me after we have finished speaking, but for now I must insist we focus on the matter at hand. Namely, getting my daughters back. Reuniting them with their natural father, their true father.”

Delphina hadn’t known her own natural, true father. Her mother hadn’t been sure. But Delphina had always dreamed he was a lord, all manners and dignity, grace and goodness, just like Lord Honey Hair. “Sure, I’ll help.”

“Good. I must trust that I can count on you, as I have no one else to rely upon. But my love for my daughters requires I act on their behalf.”

Delphina had a moment of uncertainty. She’d never heard any other parents protest so strenuously and frequently how much they loved their children… and frankly, it struck her as a little off, along with his constant references to his biological connection to them. “You sure these girls are yours? Maybe they just look like them.”

“There is nothing I am more certain of. I would know my sweet daughters anywhere. Besides, does the fairy not have a history of stealing other children?” That was a bit of a gamble on Hornwood’s part, as Panterras had never been able to figure out where the fourth teenager came from. It would be hard to argue she was a “child,” and for all Hornwood knew she might be Rollick’s bastard daughter or something.

This small discrepancy slipped unnoticed past Delphina. “She took your niece, too, you said. Kira. Claimed her father was dangerous, but I ain’t seen no proof other than her word, and that knight, who probably just believed her. And you say the father is a good man, and I’m more like to believe you, my lord. Plus the fairy took that girl Kaydee, although I don’t know what she wanted with her. Kaydee’s just some whore.”

The irony of the “just some whore” comment was not lost on the man who would later be paying Delphina for sex, but he let it slide without comment. “Another addition to the collection, I suppose. I care nothing for the whore— the fairy can do with that one as she will— but I do intend to rescue my daughters… and my niece, if possible.”

They had to be his real daughters, Delphina told herself. Didn’t they? He’d shown her the birth records too, all fancy and official, with signatures and seals. Delphina couldn’t read, but it certainly looked important and governmental. Besides, he kept saying he loved them. What kind of man wanted to raise two teenage girls, useless mouths to feed, dowries to provide, unless he loved them because they came from the seed of his own body?

Daughters were a burden without a reward, or so Delphina’s mother had always told her, lamenting that Delphina couldn’t have been a boy to provide for his mother in her old age. That was why Delphina had become a prostitute in the first place— the money was nice, but you could get money other places, like by stealing it. No, Delphina had started selling her body to prove you could get paid for being a woman, even though she’d been such a disappointment not being born a boy.

So why would someone like Lord Honey Hair want these girls if they weren’t tied to him by blood? That seemed like proof, as much as the drawing and the birth certificates.

And what was the worst that could happen, anyway? Say they weren’t his real daughters. What did it matter? They’d have a better life with him regardless, with his riches and fancy house. Better than living in a refugee camp with a crazy fairy and a stodgy old man. With Lord Honey Hair, the girls would have luxuries they couldn’t dream of where they lived now. Delphina would have given anything to live like that. Anything. He’d probably have sex with them if they weren’t really his flesh and blood, but sex wasn’t so bad. They’d get used to it fast, maybe even like it, and it was a small price to pay to live like princesses.

You never knew, too. Lord Honey Hair might decide the girls needed a stepmother…

Delphina had made her decision. “Sure, I’ll help you. And I’ll never tell no one. I promise, my hand to the gods. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

[Lylessa Uluki]

((NPC Post))

Delphina was getting dressed— a process that under the circumstances really just involved pulling her dress over her head and smoothing her hair. When she was plying her trade, Delphina preferred simplicity and manoeuvrability to the social nicety of wearing undergarments. Lord Honey Hair was watching her, but she didn’t really care. He’d certainly paid well enough to have earned the right to do so, and they were far past the point of modesty. “Did I please my lord?” she asked coyly.

“Well enough,” he informed her noncommittally, but he’d certainly seemed pleased and more at the time.

“Could be my lord will call on me again, next time he wants to be pleased with a woman?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps I shall even summon you for a longer liaison. How would you like to spend a few days at my manor?”

“Well enough,” she said with a giggle, throwing his words back at him, but she was secretly thrilled with the prospect. At the very least she’d earn lots of money for that, and she wouldn’t be at all surprised if he became so enamoured of her that he decided to make her the new Missus Honey Hair. Lady Honey Hair, even. Delphina liked the idea of being a lady, a real one, without the words “of the night” following the title.

“But you must prove I can trust you,” he cautioned. “I cannot have an unreliable slut in my home. You must prove you can be a true…” He eyed her as if weighing her. “A true lady,” he concluded, and Delphina shivered with pleasure. “If you help me get my daughters back, I will see you are rewarded handsomely. If not… you’ll be a five bishani whore the rest of your life, I suppose.”

Delphina had never before commanded a price as high as five bishani, not from anyone besides Lord Honey Hair, but her voice was still emphatic with assurance and promise. “I won’t let you down, my lord, I swear it.”

“Tell me more of the fairy’s husband.”

“Doubt he’ll get in the way…”

Hornwood cut her off dismissively. “Does she truly love him, do you think? Why did she choose him, of all men? He is old, and poor, and seems lowborn. What is there to recommend him?”

“Dunno for sure, my lord. Certainly not the sex.”

“He does not perform well?” Hornwood asked candidly.

“Doesn’t perform at all, more like. Doubt he can even get it up.” She hadn’t considered that previously, but after it was out of her mouth she was certain it was true, because it explained the inexplicable. Of course he must be impotent, or he would never have dreamed of rejecting Delphina herself. The poor old man was just saving face. Smiling a little at this realization, she ventured a further guess. “She keeps him around because he’s a warrior, I’d say. He protects her, and her children.”

“Interesting. So if he should, through some mischance, be rendered incapable of that…”

“Be what, my lord?”

“If he couldn’t, Delphina. Please, try not to show your ignorance more than you must. If he couldn’t protect her, would she still bother with him?”

“She wouldn’t, my lord. She’d just pick one of the other warriors who could. I’d bet anything she’d just leave him, flat out.” After all, Delphina herself would, and she was a human with a heart. A soulless fairy could hardly be more attached to someone. It wasn’t as if the Fae was capable of love. The course of action Uluki would take was clear. “But what does it matter, my lord? Might be her human never gets hurt like that. And even if he does, what does that have to do with your daughters?”

She would almost have said Lord Honey Hair’s smile was cold and calculating if she didn’t know better. “Nothing to do with my daughters, Delphina. Nothing at all.”

[Lylessa Uluki]

((NPC Post))

Delphina left first. Hornwood had been more than satisfied with her, but she was just a whore; he certainly wasn’t going to see her out and hold the door open for her, as though she were a lady. Delphina had already served one purpose, and would soon serve another; if Hornwood allowed her to believe there might be something more in it for her down the road, it was simply to make her more compliant, not because he was seriously considering a relationship with her. Let her dream about being Lady Hornwood if the thought inspired her to do as he wanted her to— but it was never going to happen. Not with some cheap shanty town prostitute. There was the bloodline to consider, and the good name. Delphina’s body was a pleasant diversion, but that was all.

Once she was gone, Hornwood made a careful, meticulous list of arrangements to be made, people to pay, bargains to strike before he put his plan in motion. Once Delphina had been gone a reasonable length of time that Hornwood’s own departure wouldn’t seem linked to hers, he also left the cramped little room where they’d had their tryst.

As Hornwood passed under the sign hanging above the door, depicting a cricket with an irritated expression on its buggy little face, a man in non-descript clothing approached. “Message for you, sir,” the man informed Hornwood, passing him a folded note and then beginning to amble away.

“Wait, what is this? Who sent it? What’s going on?” Hornwood’s voice was alarmed; The Grumpy Cricket wasn’t the sort of place a society gentleman ought to be seen.

The man shrugged, looking bored and unconcerned. “Dunno, sir. Like as not you ought to just read it, begging your pardon, then you’d know.”

Hornwood gave an annoyed little snort, but really had no rebuttal to that, so he unfolded the letter. Three symbols, and two words. A black skull. A white hand. A pair of crossed goblets, the symbol of a nearby tavern called The Duelling Chalices. The words, “One hour.”

Hornwood cursed under his breath. He’d been a fool to attend that meeting of The Skull and The Hand. He never should have let the daft old coot talk him into going; he’d warned Panterras it was a bad idea… and now it was coming back to haunt him. Someone knew.

When Hornwood looked up from the note, the messenger was gone. It seemed Hornwood’s only hope of getting more information about this— this blackmail, or whatever it was— was to attend the proposed meeting. In the meantime, Hornwood met briefly with several of his contacts, issued instructions, and parted with copious amounts of bishani. He could only hope that once the man whose body had been host to a god was within his grasp, the power he could trade for would be worth it. He knew he would have to spend resources to gain that bargaining chip, and he was more than willing to do so.

By the time the hour had passed, though, Hornwood was sitting alone at a shadowed back table in The Duelling Chalices, awaiting whoever had penned the unsettling note.

[Lightswords]

A waitress delivered a note to the table in the shadowed corner. Simply left it on top without stopping. The note read - Swan room.

And indeed, upstairs, there was a room with a painted swan on the door. The artwork was beautiful, fit for a noble guest. The door opened when approached with anything less than stealthy footsteps. The room within was dark.

Save for the light of one candle, on a table near a corner of the spacious room. The spaciousness only made the darkness more encroaching, as though a looming presence hovering on the edges of the dim glow. There were two chairs.

"Ah, Lord... So pleasant to meet a man of good breeding here." A silky voice in the dark commented. One which Hornwood may or may not recognise. "To think, the fools of the Guard believe their laws should apply to men of our standing."

Assuming Hornwood was in the room, the figure would move to close the door. "No one can hear us. And you, have just found an ally."

[Lylessa Uluki]

((NPC Post))

Hornwood made no attempt to sneak to the Swan Room. He’d only look all the more suspicious if anyone noticed him, and it seemed rather pointless to try to use stealth to meet someone who had just summoned him. He would be expected, regardless of the manner of his entrance.

As the door opened Hornwood took a nervous breath, but otherwise suppressed his worry. He suddenly reconsidered coming to this meeting unarmed, now that it was far too late to do anything about that fact. In the safety of the alley outside The Grumpy Cricket it has seemed like the best way to make any potential bargaining go more smoothly, to set a tone that was collegial rather than combative, but when he entered the darkened Swan Room, he would have felt far more secure with the hilt of a dagger to clutch.

The voice was familiar, and Hornwood was sure he had heard it before, but he was unable to put his finger on quite where, or in what context.

He also wasn’t sure what to make of the comment about good breeding. At face value, he agreed— nobility was blood, and blood was everything. But could it really be a backhanded threat to reveal his liaison with Delphina? Many man of stature and position had their whores, but they did so discreetly. Even such a common secret, if shouted through the streets of Marn rather than concealed politely behind closed doors, would not bring ruin, but it would certainly bring ridicule. Hornwood did not wish to be laughed at behind the hands of the best parts of Marn’s upper class society. He acknowledged the comment with a nod nonetheless, unsure what else to do; he could hardly argue a point that hadn’t even been made, not without sounding utterly desperate.

The comment about the Guard gave him pause, however, and somewhat reassured him. Hornwood had no strong feelings about them, either positive or negative, but someone intent on blackmail was unlikely to make such a politically dangerous statement. It would give Hornwood a weapon to blackmail in return. Either the man was a fool, or his motives were more interesting… and of potential use. Either way, Hornwood would come out ahead. Things suddenly seemed to be going much better. Once again, he merely nodded.

The door closed once Hornwood was inside. The promise of an ally was an enticing one, though Hornwood still felt he ought to be cautious till things were made more clear. “I am glad to hear that, sir. An ally is always welcome. How may I be of assistance to you?”

The real question in Hornwood’s mind was how the mysterious man in the shadows might be of use to him, but asking outright was hardly an appropriate diplomatic tactic. All that would remain to be seen. Hornwood was wary, but open to the possibility of gain.

[Lightswords]

Footsteps echoed in the dark as the other lurked near the edges of the light. "Take a seat." Somewhere in the voice was a smile. An arm clad in a long sleeve of purple and red velvet reach out to pull the chair. Glimpsed in the shadows was the outline of face with a neatly trimmed beard. There were also steel rings on the fingers of that hand, the kind worn by a victorious duellist.

"You deal in dangerous matters, my friend. Men of our standing need to take security measures when enjoying our less accepted priviledges." As far as the stranger was concerned, these were priviledges. Aristocrats were entitled to deal in magic, commoners were not. "I am surprised you came alone. A nobleman thrives on his resources. You appear to need resources you can bring into this venture." Actually, the stranger was convinced that Hornwood knew something he didn't, had some trick up his sleeve, but he spoke to build his case with the illusion of strength. "We could extend you those resources."

"What I want, is you and your progress. Picture a fraternity. Noblemen with connections to each other, each trading the use of their own power. Enough influence together, and our interests become easier to pursue."

"We have a magic-using priest staying over as our guest. A barbarian who calls himself a knight. A fool with silly notions such as thinking we have a duty to the lesser classes." He chortled with only half-suppressed laughter. "To think we owe those base-born wretches anything." The presence of a magic-user in their home was no great news - the guest had declared himself to the Judges and had even been granted a lisence, but without that knowledge his claim would sound a more damaging secret than it was.

This was deliberate. A trade, of a nugget of information made to appear more valuable than it was. What secret could he buy with that nugget?

"There is always the possibility that you could gain the magic kept by this fool priest. There is always the possibility I could help." Offer him that life in exchange for power and aid. Have Hornwood kill his enemies for him.

Phelan grinned.

[Lylessa Uluki]

((NPC Post))

Hornwood was likely to have recognized the shadowed face, but even if he hadn’t, the rings gave it away. Those who duelled well gained a reputation. This stranger was Phelan Anstrun. Interesting.

“Truth be told, I came alone because I did not wish to draw more attention to myself than was necessary. I expected garden-variety blackmail, not this much more entertaining little meeting. One does not wish to hand a blackmailer further bargaining chips by implicating associates.”

Hornwood had also banked on the blackmailer being some thug or sell-sword; Hornwood had some basic skill in combat, and felt he could easily defeat such a person. Phelan was another matter. The man’s talents were legendary. Had Hornwood known who he was meeting, he would have brought along a more skilled sword, regardless of the fear of additional blackmail opportunities.

“The news of this priest is interesting. I wonder if you speak of the one they call Aorle? The one with the base in the Industrial District?”

He wasn’t really wondering too hard. How many priest-knights could there be in Marn fighting for the common people? Surely it was the same man. But Hornwood knew little of Aorle besides his name; if Phelan knew more, it might prove very useful.

“In any case, I could see benefits to be gained.”

Hornwood wasn’t yet sure exactly what. Magical powers were useless without a way to transfer them to oneself. Perhaps some sort of ritual sacrifice of the priest? Hornwood would need to look into that— but in the privacy of his own home. No reason to allow Phelan to realize he didn’t already know.

“As it happens, I too am working on a… project. There is a man who has recently come to the city, a man who would appear to be of little consequence. He is far from young, common-born, and utterly without magic of his own. A warrior, certainly— but there are many who can wield a sword. One might not take notice of him at all… unless one knew better. It happens my associate has a great deal of information about this man. For months his body was host to a god of chaos and destruction. Imagine, the power of a god, trapped within a human form. The man no longer contains the god, but we are convinced that traces remain. Perhaps more than traces. Whether or not this is true, we already have an interested buyer. Someone else will likely bid even higher.”

“Understand of what I speak. Not coin. I don’t think either of us lacks for bishani. No, I speak here of power. Dark power. Magics strong enough to be a fitting trade for the vessel of a god. Perhaps, should you prove useful to us, my associate and I will see fit to grant you a share.”

“My hirelings are at work on the matter. When the opportunity arises— it should be in the next day or two— the man’s daughters will be taken. He can either surrender to us, or watch them die. He will surrender.”

That had been the hardest part of the plan to convince his hired swords of. They seemed unable to fathom that a warrior would trade his life for girls. Hornwood had employed Ianna Hij’s band, mainly for their reputation for ruthlessness, but also thinking that surely those commanded by a woman would be more able to understand the idea, but even the leader herself seemed to think it unlikely.

“There is no need to worry of a rescue attempt. I have ordered that he be maimed.” There was no emotion behind the words. Hornwood might as well have been describing his dinner menu. “Once his wife and comrades see the proof that he is no longer capable in battle, they will have no further use for him. They will not be foolish enough to risk their own lives to bring back a sack of meat who serves no purpose. This will also weaken his spirit, and make him more compliant. I have ordered that he not be injured mortally, however. When he dies, it will be in the ritual to harvest the god’s power from his body.”

“So that is how my time has been occupied. What of yours?”

[Lightswords]

While there was a certain wisdom to Hornwood's reasons for coming alone, there was also such a thing as a disposable associate, a resource which Hornwood would do well to invest in. Or perhaps not. After all, if Hornwood left himself with a glaring vulnerability in that regard this gave Phelan himself a position of strength or at least value in their future dealings.

And future dealings he felt sure of right now.

Since keeping anonymity was hopeless now, Phelan sat down within the light. The anonymity was merely a precaution in case the meeting began on poor terms. Anyhow, this saved him the inconvenience of having to arrange such dramatic meetings. Now he could simply be one noble meeting another. There was no better hiding place than in plain sight.

Part of Phelan wished to dole out information at his own pace, leaving the identity hidden for now, but he knew he had given away too much. "Yes. Apparently begging his god for scraps of power is working for him, which favours us. He can do the begging, can humiliate himself for the sake of his insane dogma. We can reap the prize. If what he's begged for strikes you as foolishness, it can be exchanged for by stronger powers."

So far Hornwood's plan seemed appropriate, with one contradiction... He was counting on a man surrendering himself in exchange for his daughters, and then on that man's comrades and family abandoning him. While he did consider warning Hornwood of this little complication, he felt that warning could wait until he knew more of the situation. Then he could turn it to his advantage.

Civilised men liked to hide their bloodlust behind careful manners and scented handkerchiefs. Phelan Anstrun was one such civilised man. A sportsman. These diversions were popular among certain factions of the nobility. "You can see for yourself. Will you be free in two nights from now? Come to the Field of Flowers, with an eye for talent as much as entertainment. I will arrange for you to be shown the way." One expression used among the court was 'rolling the field of flowers'... an expression which was often met with puzzlement and raised brows and no comment. Now, the phrase had meaning.

[Lylessa Uluki]

((NPC Post))

Hornwood nodded in response to Phelan’s suggestion about the warrior-priest, but felt more clarification was in order. “Exactly what powers does he have? Perhaps they can be employed to useful purpose, even if he squanders them on peasants. We may need to be… creative. But power is power. It simply needs to be harnessed.”

Hornwood felt he should clarify one further point about his plan to kidnap Rollick. “Of course, it is impossible to predict how anyone will behave or react. But I have spoken to formerly close but now estranged friends of both the man and his wife, and I have become confident of the likely outcomes.”

Alright, granted, calling Delphina a “close friend” to Uluki wasn’t strictly accurate. The tart didn’t actually seem to like the fairy woman much. But Delphina seemed to know a great deal about the blue creature, even if it wasn’t exactly a cheerful relationship. And Panterras had gone a decade without speaking to Rollick… but the old mage been observing. That had always struck Hornwood as odd, and maybe a little creepy. Panterras just watching, waiting, never making his presence known… it spoke of an unhinged mind. But Panterras was clearly completely insane; this little tidbit was hardly surprising.

“The man is known to be loyal beyond the point of all reason. It makes him pathetically easy to manipulate. He was willing to face the consequences of harbouring a goddaughter he hadn’t seen in ten years, knowing it would anger a powerful mage and could result in his death. He is not likely to do less to save his own daughters. He will surrender.”

“The wife is one of the Fair Folk, and you know how they are. Calculating and clever, but utterly cold. They will hold to the exact terms of an agreement, but can feel neither love nor compassion. They prefer acts of cruelty and mischief to acts of kindness. My source tells me this fairy is no different, except that she is unusually treacherous. This associate of mine will be helping with the… project… and she is confident the fairy will not bother to rescue a crippled old man. A fairy is not likely to do anything that is not for personal gain or amusement, and this is neither.”

“As for the fighting comrades… well, what would you do? Your reputation in combat precedes you. Would you walk into an ambush to save a man who would be no further use to you? The man has no power, no wealth, nothing but a sword hand. With that gone, he is nothing. Warriors are not, as a whole, inclined to sentimentality, especially not when their own skins are on the line.”

“There is one final piece of insurance. These comrades will be away for a time, shortly. That is when we intend to strike. Even if they do feel some fondness for the old man, by the time they return, he will already be dead. I am told that extracting any remaining power the god left in his body will prove lethal. If these warriors wish to risk their lives, they will be doing so for a corpse. At worst, they will kill a few of my hirelings. There is no record tracing this back to me. Save for the deaths of a few I consider expendable, they gain nothing by trying to free the old man. By the time they return, he will have served his purpose.”

Hornwood did, in fact, have plans for the evening Phelan mentioned. He was promised to dine with a pair of wealthy society spinsters and their senile father, then to attend a concert by a well regarded musical ensemble, of which he was a patron. “As it happens, my schedule is clear for that night. I shall await guidance to the location.”

After all, he told himself, whatever Phelan had up his sleeve, it was likely to be far more interesting than dinner and a show.

[Lightswords]

Here was a difficult question. Phelan knew the answer, of course, having been able to get the information on their guest easily enough. The difficulty lay in what to actually tell Hornwood. These 'miracles' did not impress Phelan - healing the sick, banishing corruption and sensing evil. Such concerns were beneath Phelan Anstrun, and if he answered truthfully, probably beneath Hornwood too. On the other hand, he could make up the answer, but anything too powerful could warn Hornwood away, which was against Phelan's interests.

"Some of them are trivial. Healing, for example, apparently he struggles to heal himself. Others, can be more useful. He has the power of second sight, reading people through the astral plane. He blinds himself with his religion, calling what he sees good and evil, but the power to see into the astral plane would make studies far easier when considering the extra observations you could make."

As for destroying the forces of darkness with his wrath, Phelan left that part out. They had already acknowledged that dark power was what they sought, and announcing that this outlander had ways to combat exactly that would be a good way to send Hornwood in the opposite direction.

Then he heard the plan, which sounded good and thorough, but the pieces did not quite fit together. There were contradictions. For example, he was counting on this warrior to be sentimental, but not those around him. Then the contrast between the man's personality and that of his fairy wife. Had he known that these were the same people inside the compound, he would have stayed silent, but he had sent no spies just yet and could not resist the chance to show what he knew.

"How good is your source? Not everything fits. Fools like this group together. A man so loyal married to a cold-hearted fairy would have to be bewitched. That means the fae will choose if he surrenders." As much as he liked a plan to work, this all seemed too easy, too convenient. "Some warriors help people of no use to them in an effort to pretend they can be nobles without the blood." This he knew, he had 'outsmarted' fools like these by toying with their principles. The very notion of usurping the right of noble outraged him, and he felt an obligation to debase and degrade such upstarts at every opportunity.

"How much do your hirelings know? I know his comrades must be soft-hearted to try to rescue him but the soft-hearted can be surprisingly vengeful when it comes to trying to find a friend. Have you taken steps to make sure your hirelings cannot talk?" Then he smirked. "Or shall I once they have delivered him?"

[Lylessa Uluki]

((NPC Post))

"Healing has its uses," Hornwood said with a shrug. Panterras was a fool not to realize that. "It need not be wasted on peasants. It would allow one to fight on in battle after wounding, or to safely summon magics more destructive than would otherwise be possible without risk to life and limb. And of course, that is only if used on oneself. Healing could also be sold, or traded. Though I have no immediate need for bishani, it never hurts to refill the coffers. Besides which, what would someone trade to escape death? Offer a dying man the chance at salvation, and what would he not give you? Healing can be as a knife at the throat, securing valuable assets; it need not be given away for free."

"This reading you speak of is particularly intriguing. What might one see using such a gift? I have no concerns of... 'good' or 'evil.' Could this magic be used to seek out other magics? To find the weaknesses of an enemy? Opportunities for gain? I am a man with little patience for philosophy. I care nothing for the contents of a soul... unless those contents can be put to a practical use. How does this Astral sight work?"

The warrior-priest interested Hornwood, but he was inclined to be cautious. "There is one other matter. The gossip is that this man comes from a noble house. Your house, in fact. Would House Anstrun not object to their relative being used in such a fashion? Would your kin keep quiet about the matter, or rain their wrath down upon us?"

That Aorle was Phelan's relative was pure conjecture. Hornwood did not know the exact nature of the tie between Aorle and the Anstrun family, but he knew one existed. If Aorle was a mere employee or an acquaintance of lesser nobility, let Phelan reassure him of that. If he had guessed right, he was very interested in how Phelan would answer.

To answer the questions about his own plan, "I have more than one source. My source of information about the man himself is my closest and most valuable associate."

At least for now, until Panterras outlived his usefulness. Once that time came, the mage would be found floating face-down in the Ofriyu Mar on some moonless night. Hornwood's former hero worship of the old fool was utterly at an end.

"This source has had opportunity to observe the man for nearly twenty years. I must rely upon his judgment. It matters not to me if the daughters survive. Perhaps if he is initially uncooperative, the man will change his tune once he sees one of his beloved girls drown on the blood from her slit throat, and surrender to save the other. If not, he will still be outnumbered seven to one. Should he yet manage to prevail, he will kill mere hired swords. Mercenaries willing to take my coin and follow my instructions without being given my name. He will be able to get little information from them."

"It is very possible he is bewitched. However, her hold seems not to be all-encompassing. He seems able to act of his own will when he is out of her presence." At least, Hornwood assumed so from the descriptions he had pieced together. "I think there is a simpler explanation. Fae women are sluts. The only 'magic' she would have needed to entrap this man is between her thighs, and no doubt she shares that magic freely. She only needs to bewitch him in the bed. A woman like that can make a simple-minded man weak, no matter how strong his arm."

Of course, Delphina thought Rollick was impotent, but perhaps the man liked to pretend. To show off for others this woman who was without sexual inhibitions, to make them believe what a virile man he was. Hornwood could hardly blame the man for trying.

"Be that as it may, the Fae is physically powerless and has no combat magics. She cannot save him by herself. And who will help her? No one. She will be utterly alone."

There was the barbarian rabble staying at the compound, of course, but Hornwood gave them little notice. They were a few straggly nomads, not proper warriors. They were of no more consequence than the refugee whore women.

"Even if the warrior comrades behave like counterfeit nobles, they will be too late. My sellswords know nothing other than their instructions and the amount of their payment. They cannot be squeezed for information they do not have. Nor will it make any difference to me if the warriors 'rescue' a man already dead. If it is what they feel they need to do, it affects me little."

"I have hired Ianna Hij and her company for the job. I heard of them in my travels abroad, and luckily enough for me, they have come to Marn. Their reputation precedes them, especially the leader. Utterly ruthless. No quarter for man, woman, or child. They would sell any life for coin. If their reputation is accurate, I shall use their services again in the future. If not, they shall be... dealt with. I chose not to go through my usual channels on this matter because I do not wish it to be tied to me if it goes wrong. I chose assassins and murders-- though highly disciplined ones-- who do not know me. My own people will dispatch them if their lips prove loose, or if they are ineffectual."

[Lightswords]

Very smoothly arranged. Too smoothly arranged.

"Alright." replied Phelan, still finding this described as all too easy. "What can the fae do? If her magic cannot be used to fight, it does something else. That is a wild card. And I am more wary of that than any blast of lightning." After all, a blast of lightning could be prepared for, resisted, evaded. But unknown magic tended to screw things up in the manner least expected, and generally make those who did not account for it look very very silly.

"I doubt my kin would care if the foolish knight were to get himself killed on some purile quest." commented Phelan innocently. Eyes danced in circles. "Really, he is a connection from afar in lands to the west. Who will care what happens to an outsider?"

"You appear to have everything in hand, my friend. Makes me wonder what use anyone could be to you right now. There is such a thing as overplaying a position of strength. Ask my aid should you desire it. In the meantime, I am making allies with certain other parties who for their own reasons made an example some I dislike. Examples of people I dislike which cannot be traced back to me are things I like to encourage. So should your company perform badly, I can find you some replacements. One good way to keep anonymity."

And in the absence of any other 'contributions' he could make, Phelan would happily arrange for the replacements to be needed.

"As for the Astral Sight, we would need to study further, because it is currently in the hands of someone very skilled at blinding himself. Now you know to find me. You may appreciate a watchful eye on some endevours, or simply a hand on a long arm."

[Lylessa Uluki]

((NPC Post))

"What the Fae can do remains to be seen," Hornwood said slightly disingenuously. "I intend to find out, and to use it to my advantage. They say the sacrifice of the life of a Fae is a source of great power."

Hornwood couldn't help but wonder why Rollick slept beside the fairy night after night, when spilling her blood would grant such a boon. Perhaps the oafish warrior simply didn't know the power that lay beside him, ripe for the taking. Maybe he knew but had no way to harness it, no way to transfer the Fae magic to himself. Or perhaps he really was just thinking with his cock, and was blinded to the opportunity laid out before him. It didn't matter, really. If the warrior wasn't going to seize this chance, someone else would.

But not yet, because what Hornwood told Phelan was, in a sense, true. He didn't know what the fairy could do, and he didn't intend to confront her until he was sure.

Hornwood knew what she had been able to do in the past, because Panterras liked to talk. Endlessly. The old man loved the sound of his own voice. Panterras had spoken several times of his confusion about the fairy's abilities. She had been a combat caster, once. Fire and ice from her fingertips as though she conjured the elements themselves. And then... nothing. Even when she was in danger, she showed no ability to use magic offensively. But that didn't make sense. Casters rarely became less powerful unless they met with some major mishap, and if such a thing had befallen the fairy, Panterras surely would have known.

But what other explanation was there? Why did one who once wielded magic in battle suddenly seem only to heal? Were her powers gone? Had she replaced them with some entirely different magical ability that she had yet to unleash? Or was she simply biding her time, hiding her powers, creating a trap for the unwary? The question had perplexed Panterras, and Hornwood was entirely without answers.

That would be a pleasant side effect of his plan, though, even if it failed. If the fairy attempted a rescue mission, she would put her skills on display. Hornwood stood to win either way, and had nothing to lose.

"I am glad your relative will prove so... disposable. That is well for our planning. But I feel it is best to be cautious, and ensure we know what we are dealing with first."

Hornwood had already made one mistake concerning the warrior-priest. He'd encouraged Panterras to write a letter, a letter which had not had the desired effect. It had neither caused the knight to dismiss Rollick and the fairy, making them accessible to Panterras, nor had it inspired the knight to attempt to kill Rollick-- proving himself a fitting ally if he succeeded, and, it could be hoped, a more biddable associate than the stubborn old man had proven. But Hornwood's idea had been a failure, and he didn't intend to approach the knight again without more information and certainty.

"I thank you for your offer of assistance, and I assure you that you will also have mine should you need it. I hope your conversations with your allies prove profitable. In the meantime, I have work of my own that must be seen to."

Hornwood was not being coy about the nature of the work; he had not yet decided. But this conversation had established his aim. Clearly Phelan was a more useful associate than doddering old Panterras was. And if the alliance with Phelan went sour, surely there were others who could take his place. Panterras had outlived his usefulness-- but Hornwood intended to ensure he didn't outlive it by much. The old man had become a liability, and had to be dealt with.

The question was how. Panterras was more powerful than Hornwood, regardless of the old man's senile inability to put his powers to meaningful use. Useless as he was, Panterras might not prove easy to kill. Hornwood needed to find some way to tip the scales. Some power that Panterras would not yet know of. Which meant a new scheme, since the previous plotting had been shared.

Such powers existed, and Hornwood would seek them. Diligently.

"I trust we shall speak again before long?"

Then, with their conversation done and polite goodbyes exchanged, Hornwood departed.