Thread: For Whom the Darkness Parts [Med/Fant roleplay. Accepting]

In one of the seedier parts of Corus, in a dimly-lit tavern, a tall, slender, dark-garbed man slid into a booth opposite a short, slender, dark-garbed man. The flickering candle on the table made their eyes glitter as they gazed silently at each other, faces unreadable. Then the shorter man slowly reached into his vest and withdrew a short, tighty-wrapped cylinder of broad dried leaves. He sniffed along the length of it, his eyes half-closing though he never took them off the other man, and then he held it in front of him. His other hand came up, a small blade somehow now held in it, though he hadn't seemed to draw it. He snipped the end off the cylinder with an efficient, practiced motion, and leaned toward the candle to light it. You'll forgive me for being suspicious, the shorter man said around puffs, his foreign accent thick and relaxed, although his words were clearly fluent. It is rare that someone knows just where to find me. If your information is that good, why would you need to hire me in the first place? Simply knowing things does not mean one has all the other skills needed. Your services are still desired. The shorter man, Salazaar, raised an eyebrow and let the ghost of a sardonic smile show. Why not just ask your God for the favor? Now it was the other man's turn to raise an eyebrow, so Sal felt compelled to explain. My procedures for protecting my identity are proof against normal investigation, which leaves only magic. In that regard, I'm protected against divination of most sorts. The only forms of magical location that can find me are too powerful to block, and that means either an arch-wizard or a deity. You don't have the trappings or the demeanor of an arch-wizard or a trusted servant of same, so that leaves deity. Then the question becomes, what would a God need with little old me? The taller man spread his hands. Why, to hire you, of course! Sal grinned. Certainly, certainly. Why recruit for free from the faithful of all sorts, when you can hire a stranger. You're no stranger to us. And your skills are unique. Meaning I'm the best there is at what I do... in the local area, at least. I don't pretend to think I'm top of the game the world over, but locally, I can lay pretty good odds. Fine. So you need my talents, but who knows me well enough to trust me? Sal leaned back, puffing on his cigar. The taller man regarded him silently. Iosyne? The Muse finally heard some of my poetry? Lanos the Truthseeker has taken notice of my research? Niuri of the Mysteries, for... well, for the same research? Or... oooh!... Mischief-maker Khepri, for obvious reasons! Sal grinned and raised his head, inviting the other man to reveal the truth. Slyphe, the man intoned solemnly, naming the God of the Sea. As Sal blanched, the man couldn't keep a straight face, and broke into a wide grin. Nah, I'm just fucking with ya. It's my Lord Severn, master of Artifice. Ah, Sal's face fell back into an unreadable mask. And what does Severn want with me? There is a task that must be completed... Sal interrupted. The punished God, Twilight, is awakening, and Severn is recruiting agents to stop it. Now it was the taller man's turn to blanch. Oh, come off it. If Severn is running this show, I have no doubt that our conversation is protected from eavesdroppers. The Lord of Artifice wouldn't allow others easy access to His plans. And anybody who has kept an ear to the street knows something is up. Murders that look suspiciously like sacrifices, special ritual materials being smuggled in through underworld channels if you put all that into perspective, the conclusion is inescapable. The tall man leaned forward. I thought you didn't use magic. Sal blew a cloud of smoke in the man's face. I don't use spells. I'm quite familiar with magic. Don't mistake preference for ignorance. Now, how can you possibly expect me to be able to stop Twilight's awakening by myself? Lord Severn is offering you gifts. There was no more dancing around the subject in the tall man's demeanor now all the cards were on the table, and it was negotiation time. What kind of gifts. Powers and abilities to make you more of what you already are. Gifts to make your job easier. Won't be enough, I wouldn't think. Also, knowledge. Knowledge of where to find others who have been gifted and called to the same task. Others, eh? Spell power, muscle, healing support... and me. Am I missing any roles? The man shrugged. Not all the Calls have been returned, as yet. You will receive more information as the situation changes. If Severn is recruiting like that, why not just drag all of us together first? Why hand out bits and pieces of data? Sal raised a finger. Ah. It's not just Severn, is it? Twilight was supposedly put down by a coalition of deities, and now it will take a coalition to do it again. Why work through agents, though? Why not just do it directly, once again? The man looked steadily at the spy. Ours is not to guess the motivations of Gods. Sal snorted. Of course it is. If they didn't want to be second-guessed, they shouldn't have given us free will to do the second-guessing with. Hmmm. I'm guessing they're too weak to handle things directly, but strong enough to enhance the efforts of mortal agents. I suppose it could be worse, depending on what the gifts turn out to be. The man nodded. So you are agreed? Just a moment. What's the catch? You receive gifts and knowledge, to keep, and if you succeed, the Gods will be grateful, and grant you your heart's desire. It is the same offer all the other agents are receiving. Okay, but what's the catch? The catch is, you have to stop Twilight from awakening. That's it? Isn't that enough? Sal thought for a moment. You've got a point. He sighed. Okay. This needs to be done, and if the Gods think I'm one of the people who can do it, I suppose I'll have to try. It seems like a decent deal for a shitty job, anyway. I'm in. So, what do I have to do? The taller man stretched his hand across the table. Shake my hand. Then go and do the job. Sal gazed meditatively at the man's outstretched palm. Then he sighed, gripped his cigar between his teeth, and muttered This may be one of the stupidest things I've done in a long time before he took the hand in his own. A flash of light filled the tavern, but nobody seemed to notice it. A few patrons may have noticed an odd smell, like the air just after a lightning strike, but there were some strange humanoids from out of town in the place, and they chalked it up to them. Sal sat alone in his booth, his hand still outstretched. All the little hairs all over his body were standing up, giving him gooseflesh across his entire skin. Slowly, he let his hand drop to the table. He blinked, then took up his drink. As he took the cigar out of his mouth to down the rest of his mug, he noticed the fine Southern smokeable was now just a stump. Damn! he said, and finished off his ale. He gripped the stub of the cigar in his teeth, and sighed. He was right it was one of the stupidest things he'd done in a long time. Now that he had a glimpse of Severn's information and plans, he knew just how outclassed he and his compatriots would be. It would take cleverness, skill, and luck to win out he hoped they had enough of all. He left a few coins on the table as he left, pulling his cloak tighter around him as he departed from the tavern, blending into the sparse crowd outside. He had to get to the main street, to find a particular inn, and hope that one of it's patrons hadn't finished her meal and turned in for the night. He didn't feel like waiting until morning to get this project underway...