"You're the Eisenfaust. Rival's to the Gewehr. Less of the professional shooting and shaking people down shtick and more of the professional smuggling and entertainment nature, but still rivals."
The woman felt a perverse pleasure at this summary; from the sound of it, the Eisenfaust's "wet work" hadn't achieved as much publicity as those idiots in the Gewehr had got. Good.
"You didn't answer my question. Just how is it you know me?"
This, on the other hand, was not so good. How could Jamie have forgotten that encounter -- if this was the real Jamie Porter? An impostor, maybe? She decided to try one last thing before the shooting, or stun grenading, started.
"Three things, Jamie, and that's all I'm going to say to remind you. Beaverloo. Ensigerum. The traitor." She waited for a response.
Port Lorrel
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Graybeard
- The Heretical Admin
- Posts: 7180
- Joined: August 20th, 2007, 8:26 am
- Location: Nuevo Mexico y Colorado, Estados Unidos
Re: Port Lorrel
Because old is wise, does good, and above all, kicks ass.
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AdamZero
- Mage/Priest War Veteran
- Posts: 400
- Joined: August 15th, 2008, 5:04 am
- Location: Behind the guy on the left of the thing over there
Re: Port Lorrel
((ooc: thought the explosion was muffled, this smells like as set up!))
At the shout of the cop, Marcus shrugged off the man and brought Boris closer, taking a breath and opening the door.
He closed it once, shuddered before opening it, going in, and closing it again.
It wasn't pretty.
Hell, "ugly" would be a stretch.
Horrific? Mind altering? Depraved?
Maybe.
Seriously Screwed the 'F' up?
Close enough.
Marcus and Boris now stood on blood soaked carpet, in a suite which had walls dripping with coagulated blood, in the center of which the wispy grey soul of a man of around 40, gaunt and drained, was bound by chains that seemed to be made of bone.
All of this really didn't exist. It was all a layer of the grey, given form and colour, the ghost was layering on the room. Another thing to note is that while within the room time seemed to click away as normal, it was actually moving at a pace far swifter than without.
Standing between the gaunt man and Marcus, was her.
Marcus hated this part....he really did.
She looked like death...well...no... He'd met DEATH, and she wasn't near as bad as this chick...this one though..yeah...not pretty. Though considering her situation, understandable. In the center of her chest was an open gun wound, bleeding coagulated blood endlessly.
She hissed something at him, more emotions than words .
"He has to go, Charlene." Marcus said. "And so do you."
She hissed again, this time lunging at him with intent to harm.
He swore under his breath and back handed her with the arm holding his staff.
"I've no time for this. There's cops in the building and I'd like to have you sent and him damned before they decide to bust in the door!"
She hissed again, lost in her rage.
"Oh nuts to this." He said, side stepping her so Boris caught her in his grip.
At first the ghost thought he was a skeleton; but she quickly realized his 'bones' were made of something else...marble? The smooth surface refused to mix the Grey Marcus was using and her own, and with that minor distraction, Marcus struck.
It wasn't a painless process, and Marcus was bleeding from his right nostril by the end of the extraction.
The image of the blood soaked room fell apart, and even as at it did, a foul black thing swooped from the shadows to steal away the soul of the chained man. Marcus didn't watch, he'd seen it enough already.
The girl, now free of her grey, looked around, puzzled. She saw Marcus's open hand. In it was the iron ball, and the spiritual 'echo' that had been the anchor for her grey. She looked at him and gave a simple smile. Marcus nodded, and she departed.
Time returned to what it was, and Marcus sighed as he looked about the room. The grey left was what should be there, a simple echo that people had died here...nothing to harm anyone.
He beckoned for Boris to retreat into his more 'acceptable form' and the marble skeleton contained its limbs into its ribcage, using the pelvis to act as a 'bottom' to the case. He pulled a piece of parchment labeling the Skeleton as a 'modern art' piece and stuffed it in Boris's eye socket.
Picking him up from the spine and opening the door, Marcus looked out into the hall.
"Room's clear." he said simply, before scooping up his cloaks with his staff so they fell over his shoulders.
He walked past the man, who most likely would be a bit put off at the speed with which Marcus conducted his business, but as Marcus rounded the corner, he saw the cops.
"oh right...them...hmm...." He sighed.
At the shout of the cop, Marcus shrugged off the man and brought Boris closer, taking a breath and opening the door.
He closed it once, shuddered before opening it, going in, and closing it again.
It wasn't pretty.
Hell, "ugly" would be a stretch.
Horrific? Mind altering? Depraved?
Maybe.
Seriously Screwed the 'F' up?
Close enough.
Marcus and Boris now stood on blood soaked carpet, in a suite which had walls dripping with coagulated blood, in the center of which the wispy grey soul of a man of around 40, gaunt and drained, was bound by chains that seemed to be made of bone.
All of this really didn't exist. It was all a layer of the grey, given form and colour, the ghost was layering on the room. Another thing to note is that while within the room time seemed to click away as normal, it was actually moving at a pace far swifter than without.
Standing between the gaunt man and Marcus, was her.
Marcus hated this part....he really did.
She looked like death...well...no... He'd met DEATH, and she wasn't near as bad as this chick...this one though..yeah...not pretty. Though considering her situation, understandable. In the center of her chest was an open gun wound, bleeding coagulated blood endlessly.
She hissed something at him, more emotions than words .
"He has to go, Charlene." Marcus said. "And so do you."
She hissed again, this time lunging at him with intent to harm.
He swore under his breath and back handed her with the arm holding his staff.
"I've no time for this. There's cops in the building and I'd like to have you sent and him damned before they decide to bust in the door!"
She hissed again, lost in her rage.
"Oh nuts to this." He said, side stepping her so Boris caught her in his grip.
At first the ghost thought he was a skeleton; but she quickly realized his 'bones' were made of something else...marble? The smooth surface refused to mix the Grey Marcus was using and her own, and with that minor distraction, Marcus struck.
It wasn't a painless process, and Marcus was bleeding from his right nostril by the end of the extraction.
The image of the blood soaked room fell apart, and even as at it did, a foul black thing swooped from the shadows to steal away the soul of the chained man. Marcus didn't watch, he'd seen it enough already.
The girl, now free of her grey, looked around, puzzled. She saw Marcus's open hand. In it was the iron ball, and the spiritual 'echo' that had been the anchor for her grey. She looked at him and gave a simple smile. Marcus nodded, and she departed.
Time returned to what it was, and Marcus sighed as he looked about the room. The grey left was what should be there, a simple echo that people had died here...nothing to harm anyone.
He beckoned for Boris to retreat into his more 'acceptable form' and the marble skeleton contained its limbs into its ribcage, using the pelvis to act as a 'bottom' to the case. He pulled a piece of parchment labeling the Skeleton as a 'modern art' piece and stuffed it in Boris's eye socket.
Picking him up from the spine and opening the door, Marcus looked out into the hall.
"Room's clear." he said simply, before scooping up his cloaks with his staff so they fell over his shoulders.
He walked past the man, who most likely would be a bit put off at the speed with which Marcus conducted his business, but as Marcus rounded the corner, he saw the cops.
"oh right...them...hmm...." He sighed.
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Sareth
- RPG All-Star
- Posts: 2604
- Joined: August 23rd, 2007, 8:54 pm
Re: Port Lorrel
"Three things, Jamie, and that's all I'm going to say to remind you. Beaverloo. Ensigerum. The traitor." She waited for a response.
Beaverloo? Wow, did that bring back memories. I think that was the first time I'd run afoul of the Ensigerum. Some guy had been running a mine there rather badly. Turned out he was running it considerably better than the books claimed, and pocketing the funds himself. Needless to say his business partners hadn't taken kindly to the traitor's little acts. They'd wanted it to look like an accident.
Of course, the man had pulled this sort of thing before, with other partners. So by the time the partners hired me, the Ensigerum was already looking for him. The result had managed to be a slight misunderstanding where both the Ensigerum and I found him in the same bar at the same time. In a comedy of errors we each mistook the other for the guys body guards and ended up in a bit of a fight against one another while he split out the door. To this day I still have no idea how we both managed to survive, but we did. And a day later I managed to find and kill the mark. The Ensigerum and I have tangled several times since.
But that still didn't... Wait...
"Elke?" I began walking across the street, then paused half way. "Hold on now... If you belong to the Eisenfaust, why did you need me to kill your business partner two years ago? Don't you folk have your own people to do that?"
Beaverloo? Wow, did that bring back memories. I think that was the first time I'd run afoul of the Ensigerum. Some guy had been running a mine there rather badly. Turned out he was running it considerably better than the books claimed, and pocketing the funds himself. Needless to say his business partners hadn't taken kindly to the traitor's little acts. They'd wanted it to look like an accident.
Of course, the man had pulled this sort of thing before, with other partners. So by the time the partners hired me, the Ensigerum was already looking for him. The result had managed to be a slight misunderstanding where both the Ensigerum and I found him in the same bar at the same time. In a comedy of errors we each mistook the other for the guys body guards and ended up in a bit of a fight against one another while he split out the door. To this day I still have no idea how we both managed to survive, but we did. And a day later I managed to find and kill the mark. The Ensigerum and I have tangled several times since.
But that still didn't... Wait...
"Elke?" I began walking across the street, then paused half way. "Hold on now... If you belong to the Eisenfaust, why did you need me to kill your business partner two years ago? Don't you folk have your own people to do that?"
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Graybeard
- The Heretical Admin
- Posts: 7180
- Joined: August 20th, 2007, 8:26 am
- Location: Nuevo Mexico y Colorado, Estados Unidos
Re: Port Lorrel
The woman at the warehouse didn't even blink. "It was necessary. Now get over here; we have a business matter to discuss, and you're safer in here than out there." Which would have been true even if two large men standing behind her with stun grenades hadn't been getting restless; it was a bad neighborhood, after all.
----------------------
"Ten-four," the cop with the crystal ball said, and lowered it to his side. He then turned to the younger of his pistol-packing colleagues and said, "Duffy, the alert came from the offices. Check it out, we've got your back." Duffy said, "OK, Sarge," moved carefully to the door, listened, kicked it open, stepped inside ...
"OMIGOD, there's a body in here! And it's --" followed by the unmistakable sound of a man punching his cookies.
"Damn," the boss cop swore to no one in particular. "Remind me never to send a rookie again. That'll play holy hell with the lifemage forensics." He turned back to the people in the lobby. "Gentlemen, if I understand my ... colleague ... correctly, we now have a crime scene. I'm going to need to take a statement from each of you, and after that, you will have to clear the lobby while we do an exam of the scene. If you're staying here at the hotel, you may go to your rooms, and you may come and go as long as you don't cross the barrier that we'll set up. Don't try -- it's some damn Tsuirakuan magic thing and it might hurt you. Otherwise you'll be free to move around town. But you will have to stay in town, and in contact, for forty-eight hours. Clear?" He looked around but didn't wait for answers. "Sir," he said, pointing to Roger at the foot of the stairs, "we'll start with you, and you, sir, will be next," indicating Marcus.
----------------------
"Ten-four," the cop with the crystal ball said, and lowered it to his side. He then turned to the younger of his pistol-packing colleagues and said, "Duffy, the alert came from the offices. Check it out, we've got your back." Duffy said, "OK, Sarge," moved carefully to the door, listened, kicked it open, stepped inside ...
"OMIGOD, there's a body in here! And it's --" followed by the unmistakable sound of a man punching his cookies.
"Damn," the boss cop swore to no one in particular. "Remind me never to send a rookie again. That'll play holy hell with the lifemage forensics." He turned back to the people in the lobby. "Gentlemen, if I understand my ... colleague ... correctly, we now have a crime scene. I'm going to need to take a statement from each of you, and after that, you will have to clear the lobby while we do an exam of the scene. If you're staying here at the hotel, you may go to your rooms, and you may come and go as long as you don't cross the barrier that we'll set up. Don't try -- it's some damn Tsuirakuan magic thing and it might hurt you. Otherwise you'll be free to move around town. But you will have to stay in town, and in contact, for forty-eight hours. Clear?" He looked around but didn't wait for answers. "Sir," he said, pointing to Roger at the foot of the stairs, "we'll start with you, and you, sir, will be next," indicating Marcus.
Because old is wise, does good, and above all, kicks ass.
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AdamZero
- Mage/Priest War Veteran
- Posts: 400
- Joined: August 15th, 2008, 5:04 am
- Location: Behind the guy on the left of the thing over there
Re: Port Lorrel
"He's dead? BASTARD!" Marcus swore. "He owes me for that ... " He said paused, realizing that the more important thing was that there was someone dead within a mile of a freshly exorcised 'Grey' zone.
"Oh damnit this won't end well." He sighed, hefting Boris's motionless form over his shoulder as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs.
"New something was up when that went so fast...." he mumbled. "No she couldn't be a fighter...to pass on nice like...sometimes I wonder if ghosts even know how to fight anymore" this last phrase was barely a whisper.
"Hold up, Punk." one of the men said, one who'd sent the rookie in. "You wanna jabber, fine. What's you're name?"
"Marcus."
"Marcus wh-"
"JUST Marcus." the boy said.
"Okay, what's you're business in the port..." the man asked, clearly not impressed.
"Transporting an item of interest." He held up the skeleton 'sculpture' "Nothing contraband or heretical, just a silly little piece. I'm kinda disappointed,"
"Riiiiight..." the man said. "Okay you mumbled something bout the deceased...care to elaborate?"
Marcus plainly smiled. "Nope."
The man glared at him but sighed. "I'm not getting paid enough for this crap..."
"Oh damnit this won't end well." He sighed, hefting Boris's motionless form over his shoulder as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs.
"New something was up when that went so fast...." he mumbled. "No she couldn't be a fighter...to pass on nice like...sometimes I wonder if ghosts even know how to fight anymore" this last phrase was barely a whisper.
"Hold up, Punk." one of the men said, one who'd sent the rookie in. "You wanna jabber, fine. What's you're name?"
"Marcus."
"Marcus wh-"
"JUST Marcus." the boy said.
"Okay, what's you're business in the port..." the man asked, clearly not impressed.
"Transporting an item of interest." He held up the skeleton 'sculpture' "Nothing contraband or heretical, just a silly little piece. I'm kinda disappointed,"
"Riiiiight..." the man said. "Okay you mumbled something bout the deceased...care to elaborate?"
Marcus plainly smiled. "Nope."
The man glared at him but sighed. "I'm not getting paid enough for this crap..."
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Graybeard
- The Heretical Admin
- Posts: 7180
- Joined: August 20th, 2007, 8:26 am
- Location: Nuevo Mexico y Colorado, Estados Unidos
Re: Port Lorrel
The head cop thought to himself, Smartass kid -- nothing to say and saying it ugly, and bucking the line at that. And I let him get me acting like him, too. But what did I expect? He shook his head to clear it, said, "Okay, Marcus, now listen up. This isn't a game. I'm not gonna waste any more of my time with you, but make sure Smitty, er, Officer Smith --" he indicated the third cop -- "has your contact info before you leave the scene, 'cause we might want to talk to you again. When you're done with that, get the hell outta here."
He turned back to Roger, cleared his throat, and continued in a more polite tone, "Now you, sir. Please state your name, room number -- I assume you're a guest here -- business in town, what you saw. Let's do this easy-like," he continued, as Duffy emerged from the office, pale-faced and wiping his mouth with a handkerchief.
He turned back to Roger, cleared his throat, and continued in a more polite tone, "Now you, sir. Please state your name, room number -- I assume you're a guest here -- business in town, what you saw. Let's do this easy-like," he continued, as Duffy emerged from the office, pale-faced and wiping his mouth with a handkerchief.
Because old is wise, does good, and above all, kicks ass.
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AdamZero
- Mage/Priest War Veteran
- Posts: 400
- Joined: August 15th, 2008, 5:04 am
- Location: Behind the guy on the left of the thing over there
Re: Port Lorrel
Marcus sighed as he made for the officer. "Quite frankly if I walk out that door, you'll never see me again ever. I'd like to be that honest without before I go, because if you're superiors, whoever they may be, want to talk to me, and I'm not here...well..."
The cop grabbed Marcus by the collar "Fine. Shut up and take a room key, stay there, if we need to talk we will."
Marcus grabbed the key for room 12, which was available. "So that's 12 then. Business is this thing." He held up Boris again, and one could, at that distance, perceive the fine details in the surface of the skull. "I was upstairs...you guys talking about an explosion? Cause I didn't hear anything up here...and these walls are thin." He tapped a wall with his staff and a hollow sound echo'd
"See?"
"Yeah..." the cop took down the details in whatever way he did. "Anything else?"
"Yes, The owner owes me a bit of money and well..." Marcus sighed as he put on a nice face. "I knew him from way back... can I check on him?" he said with a sigh. "I wont touch him...or the vomit..."
The man gave Marcus an odd look.
"Just a damn peek, geez." Marcus asked.
"Fine, one. peek." He motioned at the ajar door, which Marcus quickly stepped over too, looking inside.
He saw the one cop hunched over, swearing under his breath. "Newbie..." he laughed. Then at the body he mutter a few choice words, and a whisp of air flew from the dead's man's lips and along the ground, up Marcus's pant leg and it hovered, hidden in the space between his shirt and the small of his back.
"Yeah...that's him...." he sighed as he made for the stairs. "I'll be in my room, if anyone needs me..."
Before anyone could stop him, yet without actually rushing, Marcus was at the top of the stairs, and inside the room.
Considerably less ornate than the 13th suite, but without the lingering feel of death, Marcus whipped the whisp into his hand. "Okay old man. Speak."
The ball of smoke turned into the man's face, hollow in the back. "Wha? where? how?"
"You're dead. Congrats. First off: Where's you're safe, and what's the combination?"
"It...it was in the painting at the far end of this hall... the safe box is set to drop out and to the side in case of a fire... combination is 12-10-2-00."
"That...is totally lame...okay, how did you die? What...no..you wouldn't know....what was the last thing you did before the pain and everything going black?"
"I....I put a coin in my pocket...then it...it was like a small bang."
"small....you weren't just shocked?"
"no...it was quiet....though everything got quiet...I was bleeding from my inner thigh...somehow..."
"Blade bomb to the Femoral...that's fancy...who gave you the coin."
"A woman...I think...cloaked kinda...like you..."
"oh snap...I have a stalker...kinky..." Marcus smirked. "Okay old man, I'mma loot you're vault so nuts if you don't like it."
"HEY!"
"You can't take it with you, and you so owe me if this all leads to me getting in trouble. Hell you owe me just for the trouble." He said as he sent the ghost head on its way.
"Now for the looting." He said as he opened the door, turning right, away from the stairs, and quickly finding the painting.
In just a few spins of a dial, the vault was open.
...and it was empty.
"OH....oh dear.........this...will...not end well for you...mystery bitch..." he gently closed the vault, wiped the dial clean of his prints, and replaced the painting.
He returned to his room, and locked it, and began to brood on his next move....but fell asleep before he could come to any really ideas.
The cop grabbed Marcus by the collar "Fine. Shut up and take a room key, stay there, if we need to talk we will."
Marcus grabbed the key for room 12, which was available. "So that's 12 then. Business is this thing." He held up Boris again, and one could, at that distance, perceive the fine details in the surface of the skull. "I was upstairs...you guys talking about an explosion? Cause I didn't hear anything up here...and these walls are thin." He tapped a wall with his staff and a hollow sound echo'd
"See?"
"Yeah..." the cop took down the details in whatever way he did. "Anything else?"
"Yes, The owner owes me a bit of money and well..." Marcus sighed as he put on a nice face. "I knew him from way back... can I check on him?" he said with a sigh. "I wont touch him...or the vomit..."
The man gave Marcus an odd look.
"Just a damn peek, geez." Marcus asked.
"Fine, one. peek." He motioned at the ajar door, which Marcus quickly stepped over too, looking inside.
He saw the one cop hunched over, swearing under his breath. "Newbie..." he laughed. Then at the body he mutter a few choice words, and a whisp of air flew from the dead's man's lips and along the ground, up Marcus's pant leg and it hovered, hidden in the space between his shirt and the small of his back.
"Yeah...that's him...." he sighed as he made for the stairs. "I'll be in my room, if anyone needs me..."
Before anyone could stop him, yet without actually rushing, Marcus was at the top of the stairs, and inside the room.
Considerably less ornate than the 13th suite, but without the lingering feel of death, Marcus whipped the whisp into his hand. "Okay old man. Speak."
The ball of smoke turned into the man's face, hollow in the back. "Wha? where? how?"
"You're dead. Congrats. First off: Where's you're safe, and what's the combination?"
"It...it was in the painting at the far end of this hall... the safe box is set to drop out and to the side in case of a fire... combination is 12-10-2-00."
"That...is totally lame...okay, how did you die? What...no..you wouldn't know....what was the last thing you did before the pain and everything going black?"
"I....I put a coin in my pocket...then it...it was like a small bang."
"small....you weren't just shocked?"
"no...it was quiet....though everything got quiet...I was bleeding from my inner thigh...somehow..."
"Blade bomb to the Femoral...that's fancy...who gave you the coin."
"A woman...I think...cloaked kinda...like you..."
"oh snap...I have a stalker...kinky..." Marcus smirked. "Okay old man, I'mma loot you're vault so nuts if you don't like it."
"HEY!"
"You can't take it with you, and you so owe me if this all leads to me getting in trouble. Hell you owe me just for the trouble." He said as he sent the ghost head on its way.
"Now for the looting." He said as he opened the door, turning right, away from the stairs, and quickly finding the painting.
In just a few spins of a dial, the vault was open.
...and it was empty.
"OH....oh dear.........this...will...not end well for you...mystery bitch..." he gently closed the vault, wiped the dial clean of his prints, and replaced the painting.
He returned to his room, and locked it, and began to brood on his next move....but fell asleep before he could come to any really ideas.
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Sareth
- RPG All-Star
- Posts: 2604
- Joined: August 23rd, 2007, 8:54 pm
Re: Port Lorrel
"Yeah... yeah, alright." I went ahead and crossed the street, entering through the door as the two guards stepped aside. Inside, I looked around. "So... The hooch was a pretty nice way to establish that you had the power to kill us if you wanted to, but had no plans to... Now that you've established that you mean no harm, what's up?"Graybeard wrote:The woman at the warehouse didn't even blink. "It was necessary. Now get over here; we have a business matter to discuss, and you're safer in here than out there." Which would have been true even if two large men standing behind her with stun grenades hadn't been getting restless; it was a bad neighborhood, after all.
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Graybeard
- The Heretical Admin
- Posts: 7180
- Joined: August 20th, 2007, 8:26 am
- Location: Nuevo Mexico y Colorado, Estados Unidos
Re: Port Lorrel
"The hooch was a pretty nice way to establish that you had the power to kill us if you wanted to, but had no plans to... Now that you've established that you mean no harm, what's up?"
The woman dismissed the other people who'd been in the room, and motioned Jamie to join her at a table with two glasses of wine, but didn't wait for it to be sampled before starting her oration. "First things first: what I'm about to say applies specifically to you, not that bunch you're with. The Eisenfaust doesn't go around killing people indiscriminately, and they are not targeted in any contract that we've received that I know of -- and I would know. But if it becomes necessary that we protect them, then we will protect them, and if it becomes necessary that they die, they will die. They're just ... there. Our interest is in you individually. Clear?"
She didn't wait for an answer, but plowed on, in a way that suggested a rehearsed speech. "Jamie, you've attracted the attention of some people far up in our organization, so far up that I don't know their real names. The guy I deal with is called Mr. Raphael, although I'm sure that's a cover. That's all I can say about them; I'm just the messenger here. Anyway:
"There is a most extraordinary ... career opportunity ... that you are under consideration to fill. I am not at liberty to tell you what it is, not yet, but if it turns out that you are the right person for it -- and there are other candidates -- it's pretty much a given that you'll find it so attractive that you'll accept. If you are not the right person, you will simply go on your way as though this conversation had never occurred, no harm, no foul. We may ask a ... mage ... who works with us to purge a few of your memories, but that's the extent of the tampering we'd do. This is low-risk for you. Believe that."
Jamie looked skeptical, but the prepared speech wasn't done yet, so Elke didn't allow time for an interruption and continued, "You are obviously wondering exactly what this career opportunity is and what it means for you now. Again, I can't give you details at this time, but suffice it to say that for the next month, you are under the full protection of the Eisenfaust, whether here or anywhere in Farrel or beyond that you travel to. If you are in sufficient danger that it becomes necessary that someone predecease you, it will be arranged. You may simply go about your own life, doing whatever you would do if this conversation hadn't happened, secure in the knowledge that a large, powerful, if clandestine, organization is there to keep bad things from happening to you.
"There are only two catches. One is that you reveal the contents of this conversation to absolutely nobody, and that requirement will be enforced with finality. Nobody knows about this except us. If you violate that requirement, the guarantee of protection is off. Clear?"
"And the other?"
"Also very simple: we want to observe every move you make." The prepared speech was finally done, and Elke waited for a reaction.
The woman dismissed the other people who'd been in the room, and motioned Jamie to join her at a table with two glasses of wine, but didn't wait for it to be sampled before starting her oration. "First things first: what I'm about to say applies specifically to you, not that bunch you're with. The Eisenfaust doesn't go around killing people indiscriminately, and they are not targeted in any contract that we've received that I know of -- and I would know. But if it becomes necessary that we protect them, then we will protect them, and if it becomes necessary that they die, they will die. They're just ... there. Our interest is in you individually. Clear?"
She didn't wait for an answer, but plowed on, in a way that suggested a rehearsed speech. "Jamie, you've attracted the attention of some people far up in our organization, so far up that I don't know their real names. The guy I deal with is called Mr. Raphael, although I'm sure that's a cover. That's all I can say about them; I'm just the messenger here. Anyway:
"There is a most extraordinary ... career opportunity ... that you are under consideration to fill. I am not at liberty to tell you what it is, not yet, but if it turns out that you are the right person for it -- and there are other candidates -- it's pretty much a given that you'll find it so attractive that you'll accept. If you are not the right person, you will simply go on your way as though this conversation had never occurred, no harm, no foul. We may ask a ... mage ... who works with us to purge a few of your memories, but that's the extent of the tampering we'd do. This is low-risk for you. Believe that."
Jamie looked skeptical, but the prepared speech wasn't done yet, so Elke didn't allow time for an interruption and continued, "You are obviously wondering exactly what this career opportunity is and what it means for you now. Again, I can't give you details at this time, but suffice it to say that for the next month, you are under the full protection of the Eisenfaust, whether here or anywhere in Farrel or beyond that you travel to. If you are in sufficient danger that it becomes necessary that someone predecease you, it will be arranged. You may simply go about your own life, doing whatever you would do if this conversation hadn't happened, secure in the knowledge that a large, powerful, if clandestine, organization is there to keep bad things from happening to you.
"There are only two catches. One is that you reveal the contents of this conversation to absolutely nobody, and that requirement will be enforced with finality. Nobody knows about this except us. If you violate that requirement, the guarantee of protection is off. Clear?"
"And the other?"
"Also very simple: we want to observe every move you make." The prepared speech was finally done, and Elke waited for a reaction.
Because old is wise, does good, and above all, kicks ass.
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DarkIntruder
- Mage/Priest War Veteran
- Posts: 433
- Joined: August 29th, 2007, 8:29 am
- Location: Frigid wastes of Southern Ontario
Re: Port Lorrel
Graybeard wrote:He turned back to Roger, cleared his throat, and continued in a more polite tone, "Now you, sir. Please state your name, room number -- I assume you're a guest here -- business in town, what you saw. Let's do this easy-like," he continued, as Duffy emerged from the office, pale-faced and wiping his mouth with a handkerchief.
Cops? What the fuck were they doing here? Whatever had killed the clerk in there hadn't been loud enough to hear outside the hotel. Hell, Roger had barely heard it, and he was standing in the next room! It was obviously a set-up. The same person who killed the clerk had probably called the cops in as an anonymous tip. Fuck.
Roger was understandably nervous. Not only had he rifled through the corpse's pockets, he'd stolen evidence, and stepped in the blood pool, possibly tracking it around the room! Luckily it had wiped off by this point, so he hadn't tracked bloody footprints into the lobby, but if the cops ever decided to check his shoes....
The only thing for it was to act casual. Not arouse any more suspicion. Getting framed for murder was not high on Roger's to-do list. He took a long drag of his cigarette, blew the smoke into the cop's face, and prepared to affect the only accent he could pull off with any believability.
"Aye, me boyo, we can do this easy-like, though I donna know why ye'd be questionin' me. Me name be Seamus O'Grady. I donna know the room number though, some other body be taking care of it. I just arrived, more'n or less. And let me tell ye, me boyo, if'n this be just a taste of what constitutes yer aver'ge day in this city, I canna be thinkin' tha I'll be returnin'."
The cop looked at Roger, trying to make some sense of the semi-gibberish that had come out of his mouth.
"So," the cop replied, "you've obviously not from around here. What's your business in town?"
"I'ma jest passin' throo. No business really. I jes go where mah feet takes meh."
"Okay, fair enough, though I expect you to be taking a load off and staying here for a while, in case we have to talk to you more." The cop scribbled in his notes "Now, did you see or hear any thing suspicious?"
"No, and that be the quare ting. I never 'eard nothin'. I was damn surprised when you shades showed up. Explosion? Ballocks. I've been 'ere the whole time. Who reported it?"