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<Stripe> ::the small shop could easily be missed, and in fact, probably often is. Tucked away with its door on the side near the back of an alley, between one of the city's more famous gambling houses and a restaurant of dubious quality - but guaranteed quantity, the shop could be mistaken for a cook's entrance. Only the tiny, carved domino mask set just above the doorknob - not visible to someone not looking marks the shop as anything worth possible investigation.:: * Dawn checks the dark streets for passers-by, then listens at the door for a moment before pulling a leather roll of lockpicks from his grungy cloak. <Dusk> {Don't flub it.} <Dawn> ::casually:: {Fuck you. Do your thing.} ::As Dusk shimmers and disappears, Dawn goes to work on the door:: <Stripe> ::the lock gives way to Dawn's tinkering relatively easily. Too easily, one might be inclined to think.:: * Dawn puts his picks away and considers the opened lock. {He's changed the traps and telltales. Turd.} Dawn leans close to examine the door's frame in the dark. Dusk does not bother to reply. <Stripe> ::without warning, the door swings open slightly, revealing a darkened interior lit by a single candle which has the disconcerting habit of glowing a pale, sickly green.:: Whatchoo want, mon? ::the voice seems to come from all corners of the room at once:: * Dawn straightens without seeming disturbed by being caught out. "I want you to stop fucking around with your traps. I could've fucking hurt myself on that one." He gestures toward a near-invisible tripwire on the threshold, then steps into the room. "Come out where I can see you. We gotta talk." <Stripe> ::a patch of darkness separates itself from the rest of the darkness. The figure is cloaked and hunched so much that long arms nearly drag the ground. Stripe turns his face to the greenish light, revealing features that hover on the verge of not being human at all. Large, protruding teeth and the sloped brow of an orc reveals parentage better left unimagined:: That be the day, mon, choo hurtin'... <Dawn> You think I'm made of piss and fire? ::grin:: Not altogether wrong. Still, I'm hurt. You didn't tell me about your cousin's... affiliations. <Stripe> ::shrugs one massive shoulder:: She be... gettin' de fiel' work, she say. Bes' to learn from d' inside, mon. * Dawn raises his eyebrows. "Wolf in sheep's clothing?" <Stripe> They t'ink she be jus' a kid. Eager to learn, mon, and dumb 'nuff t' take the trash job. <Dawn> I thought she was a sheep. She wants to grow teeth? And you didn't *tell* me? ::shakes his head sadly:: Stripes... You knew we were looking for an inside man. Why didn't you tell me?" <Stripe> ::impossibly, the half-orc looks hurt:: She be fambly, mon. On'y one I gots. I wants to be shoor. <Dawn> The Guild's your family too, Stripes. Didn't I help you out of that mess, during the war, and keep you hidden and safe? But it's okay. I understand. I'm sure you were going to tell me soon, right? So I won't even add the cost of learning about her to your account. But in return - you bring her in. I want to meet her. Tonight, tomorrow - as soon as it can happen. <Stripe> ::reluctantly, Stripes nods:: Truth, mon. ::he putters around his shop, moving with amazing grace for a creature so large and clumsy-seeming until he locates a dull black crystal:: I call her, mon. Choo sit, wait a bit. * Stripe clears a space off his counter with one sweep of his arm, heedless of the clutter he sends spinning to the floor - some of which grow glittering eyes and stare at him with flat irritation before slithering off. * Dawn flops into a nearby rickety chair and folds his arms so that his scarred left arm and hand are on top. He looks idly around the shop, watching the other denizens only long enough to be certain they don't plan to take exception to him. * Stripe places the crystal on the cleared space and the cold that emanates from the sudden whip of working magic is bone-deep, spiritually freezing. As Stripe works his spell it becomes more and more clear what he does - and the deep need for concealment. Half-orc or human, those who work closely with voodoo magics are rarely given welcome. "Father's sister's chile... choo is needed." He whispers to the crystal. * Stripe finishes his spell, then puts the crystal up. "She be 'long in a while. Choo wait." * Dawn nods shortly. "Aye. She dance with your brand of magic, too?" <Stripe> She be knowin' it, some. She be knowin' choo way s'well. She be havin' the load o' smart. * Dawn gives Stripe a look that conveys his skepticism over the idea of anyone being willing to deal in voodoo as being "smart," but all he says is, "We'll see." <Stripe> ::As they wait for the woman to show, Stripe offers Dawn a bowl of something glistening brown and crumbly that smells strongly of molasses:: * Dawn picks up a piece and pops it into his mouth without looking at it. "Not bad. What is it?" <Stripe> ::shrugs one massive shoulder:: Candy. Choo want kaffe? <Dawn> ::considers, then nods:: Yeah. Gonna be a long night, looks like. * Stripe pours liquid into a small cup that looks like it might have been cleaned in the last month or so. The half-orc's coffee is thick with sugar and as dark as the corners of the room. * Dawn takes a swig from the cup. "Gah. Next cup, I'll need a knife." <Jinali> ::Some time passes, perhaps no more than half an hour, before a quick flutter of raps sounds on the door, which then opens to admit a woman as small and impossibly thin as her cousin is bulky and tall. She greets him in orcish, the snarling language coming out of her mouth with amazing facility. She then turns to eye Dawn.:: * Dawn grins, unfazed. "You know, I think I can see the family resemblance." <Jinali> ::the woman gives him a quick bow:: Jinali, at your service, master wizard. <Dawn> ::chuckles:: Save that crap for the ones who care about it. You can call me Dawn. <Jinali> ::nods:: Dawn, then. Yrch- er, Stripes, says you had need of my services? <Dawn> Quite. I understand you're sitting guard duty on third level. <Jinali> ::nods to herself:: I'd wondered. He smells of import... and herself wondering things best forgotten. <Dawn> Well, what I need is for him to *export*. Preferably before he dances. What can you do? <Jinali> ::considers the matter:: If revealing myself, much. Spending all my coin on one effort. Not efficient, but as last resort, I'd think. <Dawn> It might come to that, but I'd rather not. It'd be convenient to have someone of your talents on the inside who's friendly to us. <Jinali> To do the same softly... ::she peers at Dawn:: Is he strong? Heart and blood and lungs. Does he sicken much? <Dawn> He's strong, though I know he was injured in the arrest. What do you have in mind? <Jinali> Shebli - the spirit dance, in your tongue. A poison. He goes deep into the trance. Heart slows to nothing. A dead man is not guarded. Must be quick though. More than the sun's travel from dose to cure and he dies real. <Dawn> ::sighs:: I'm familiar with some similar poisons. Will they dispose of the body, or do I need to come in and claim it? <Jinali> ::shakes her head:: There is a small plot of land where such things are disposed of... you should be prepared for digging. <Jinali> Is only one thing, I can see, to be a problem. Does she know yet. He knows. It is my thinking she does not. But should she learn it, she might claim the body. * Dawn slants a look at Jinali. "Knows what?" <Jinali> I have listened, I have heard. ::she narrows her eyes:: They be of the same mother. The rogue and the captain. <Dawn> ::eyebrows raising:: Well, now... *That's* interesting. But you think she doesn't know? <Jinali> ::spreads her fingers:: She plays her cards close, and it is hard to tell. But he... has done something to himself. I know not what. But in his delirium - from the wound in his head - he saw her as his mother. And the idea held to his waking mind. She may know. Or she may think him fever-ill. <Dawn> ::frowns, considering, then shrugs:: I want him out, one way or the other. If she claims him... ::shrugs:: If she takes him out of the prison, I can get him back. There are just too many fucking wards on the prison. <Jinali> ::nods again, slowly:: Morning meal's best then... he'll be taken out by noon to the plot. You can dig him up - pardon the pun - before dawn. ::she gives Dawn a quick, almost impish grin:: * Dawn quirks a tired half-smile, then nods. "All right. Do it. You will be well-paid for your trouble." He gives her a quick, hard look. "Don't even think of crossing me." <Jinali> ::shakes her head firmly:: I shan't. Mix em up this night, bring you the antidote, here, tomorrow mid-day. Any change in procedures, I call cousin for to get you the news. ::her mouth tightens:: I want sponsored. After. <Dawn> ::considers her:: For inside work? <Jinali> ::nods:: I am... considered stupid. Slow. But pretty. Archmage Dimitri has been playing me up. It can be profitable. <Dawn> It would have to be, to put up with the likes of him, wouldn't it? Old codger almost makes *me* look appetizing. ::he grins, then nods:: Aye, you do this for us, and you're in. <Jinali> ::smiles wickedly:: You be fairer than he, yes. Not as delicious as your shadow. ::her eyes flicker to the place where Dusk "isn't":: * Dawn doesn't look surprised, but that's probably from long practice at controlling his facial expressions. He leans close until his nose is almost touching hers, and says, "We'll want to talk about that, sometime." <Jinali> One thing, more. What he says, when you wake him. Take note, careful. Shebli is used to speak to the spirits. It is prophecy. Note it well. <Dawn> Prophecy? ::he looks dubious, but shrugs:: I'll listen. <Jinali> Much work, then, this night. I will go, then. ::she nods, then turns to her cousin and bids him fare well in orcish:: * Jinali turns and leaves the building without a look behind. * Dawn watches Jinali go thoughtfully, then looks at Stripes. "Finder's fee, if it works out." <Stripes> Choo know it, mon. ::he gives his careful close-mouthed smile, aware that his features are not made for that expression:: Choo use her safe, now. Don' be aiming to lose her. <Dawn> ::grins:: Oh, no. She's far too valuable to squander carelessly. We'll be going now. I'll see you on the regular night. Disarm the fucking traps this time, would you? <Stripes> Keep choo sharp, it do. But I be rememberin'. * Dawn snorts, flips a wave, then leaves (stepping carefully over the tripwire). * Stripes shuts the door behind the mages, then returns to whatever activities he was about before they arrived. |
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