Open Chronicles Iniquitous Inquiries

The one person he was not expecting this den of vices was Natasha. She was one of the few creatures in the world who knew his true self. Much like he knew what she truly was. Was she the one who...? No, because when she greeted him it was with surprise.

"Ah, dearest." He drawled as he settled back and watched them all join his table. Suddenly the corner of the room seemed awfully crowded.

"I believe one of our acquaintances made contact with me, practically demanded me to be here." Eamon pushed the small parchment over to the woman and allowed her to read the cryptic message. Come alone. The Blind Luck. Blessed Pagiano's Eve. It wasn't much to go by but perhaps Natasha could recognize the handwriting.

While she was doing it he looked to Meliant and Cosimo Imiliane.

"Charmed. Both of you know Natasha? Then you must truly be good company."

Meliant seemed dangerous. Cosimo seemed... present.

His attention shifted back to his old friend at the table. "And what are you doing here? Are you here for a drink or something... more involved?" In other words, was she planning on eating either of these two gentlemen or was that just a coincidence.

Just put a bit more civilized.

"Brandy...ale...I'm sure you'll wish you could afford to never go back to either after you finish your Chernova Reserve." She mused as they approached and sat down.

Meliant remained standing. Of course he did. His armor rustled with that wary tension he always held, eyes scanning the gambling hall as though someone might sprout fangs and lunge for her throat. Natasha had long since accepted that his watchfulness was more stubborn than it was useful, but it was still endearing in its own way.

Still, she preferred him seated. Her lips never moved, yet her voice slithered into his mind- smooth like silk ribbons threading through his thoughts. Come now, Meliant. Do sit. You're making the others nervous. We are among friends, old and new. There is no danger here. There was a pause, then the barest whisper of amusement- cooing even. In a way she knew unsettled him.

Unless, of course, you suspect I am the danger.

She did not expect an answer. Most often, she was met with quiet. And yet, she could feel the slow coil of his discomfort, fingers flexing at his sides before stilling. A dog who knew his leash would never break.

Satisfied, she turned her attention back to Eamon. Finding him here was truly a surprise. It had been...years? Longer, perhaps. And yet, he remained unchanged in that peculiar way of his like a man who had learned to bend the world around him rather than let it shape who he should have become by now.

I believe one of our acquaintances made contact with me.

Her interest sharpened, leaning in slightly where the dull hum of the gambling hall faded into irrelevance. "Did they now?" She murmured, tilting her head, a gleam of curiosity sparked behind her dull eyes. "And who, pray tell, had the audacity to demand such a meeting?"

Are you here for a drink or something more involved?

She noticed the way he acknowledged both Meliant and Cosimo, a soft grin breaking her uncomfortably blank expression. "My, everyone is curious about my intentions tonight, aren't they? Can a woman not pay her favorite establishment a visit during the holiday?"

Natasha Meliant Cosimo Imiliane

"I have no earthly idea." He murmured softly as he watched Meliant oscillate between frightening the serving wench to causing his chair to creak under the weight of his armor. That one was dangerous and Eamon decided to keep an eye on that one, certainly.

"There are only a few left alive here on Alliria. At least the ones that remember our escapades." It meant that the list of people was very small indeed.

"Even less that would be willing to call me out and make me wait in a place like this." His attention shifting back to Natasha. "When I saw you I thought it might have been you, actually. But by your expression I can see that's not the case."

Perhaps it would have to remain a mystery. Whoever pulled him to this place had abandoned him just as promptly.

"A woman can do anything she like." Eamon said in response. To those around them they'd only hear a flirting notion at most. Just a suggesting tease. But between Natasha and Eamon another knowing message was passed around.

You are not a woman and so you have to be careful with what you do.

But Eamon had always been the careful one of them both.

"What have you been up to?" Attention flicking once more towards Meliant and Cosimo. Wondering what exactly their role was, since she pointedly had not explained her intentions just yet.

Lorenzo Vitale said:

“You have my apologies and gratitude. I was not aware this was a private game.” Lorenzo said to the woman. He then affirmed Zeevir’s comment.

“The Ranger presence is not what it once was. There are certainly less lives and coin flowing from the Reach.”

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Tipping her brows up at the man in a silent acceptance of his appology, Lorelei said nothing further on the matter. Instead she straightened herself in her seat once more, idly thumbing through her cards while taking the first starting pull on her cigarette.

Aristeia Darke said:

"Do not stray far from our interests, Zeviir."

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He will not, she said to her sister's mind, I am paying him too well. Here, and her hand lifted the cigarette which was not a cigarette from her lips to offer it to her sister. The cloud she exhaled from her lips was purpleish in hue and held a faint minty aroma. She was content amidst the crowd, so the Sten did little for her. For Aristeia, it would be the soothing balm she needed to make it through the evening.

We don't have much left, she reminded her. Savor it.

Zeviir, to his credit, tipped a hand to the white-haired sister and offered her a wink, "Not to worry, m'lady. The sharing of news is customary at the gambling table."

Afanas said:

"A pity, truly. It is a beautiful city. A man learns to appreciate the trappings of civilization when he spends most of his days either on the battlefield or hunting things and creatures in places where most wouldn't venture to set a foot on even if threatened at sword point."

"But, there's an opportunity in it all. The city ought to be protected better, and I heard, although I cannot verify the veracity of the rumor, that the merchant council intends to recruit a large contingent of mercenaries for that exact reason. Not your run-of-the-mill cutthroat bastards, but rather... professionals. People with a pinch of creed and a splash of fidelity to their character."

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To this man Lorelei allowed her attention to wander, giving his a slow look from his midsection to his top. This took some time, given the man's stature. Handsome fellow, too. She'd not come across a man of such height in... well, she wasn't going to age herself.

If he was speaking truth and not simply gloating falsehoods to garner clout, he would be one to keep tabs on.

"The rumors are true," Zeviir accepted new cards from the dealer and gave them a cursory glance, though his own attention remain beyond the game, "but the merchant council cannot agree on how to pay for such a force. Given the city's poor record of payment for such forces... they will be hard pressed to find such quality men at arms that have not already been burned before."

Lorelei Darke said:

To this man Lorelei allowed her attention to wander, giving his a slow look from his midsection to his top. This took some time, given the man's stature. Handsome fellow, too. She'd not come across a man of such height in... well, she wasn't going to age herself.

If he was speaking truth and not simply gloating falsehoods to garner clout, he would be one to keep tabs on.

"The rumors are true," Zeviir accepted new cards from the dealer and gave them a cursory glance, though his own attention remain beyond the game, "but the merchant council cannot agree on how to pay for such a force. Given the city's poor record of payment for such forces... they will be hard pressed to find such quality men at arms that have not already been burned before."

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Afanas wasn't so naïve as to ignore the red-haired beauty measuring him up. His eyes went to her, taking in her features. She was classically attractive, with high cheekbones and healthy, blemish-free skin that gleamed with a gentle, almost imperceptible shine.

He gave her an awkward, almost apologetic smile, displaying stygian gums that were smooth and shining like polished latex.

His teeth were perfect, almost human-like, with the exception of four dagger-like fangs jutting from his mucosa, two in each jaw.

They glinted viciously, their whiteness emphasized by the dark backdrop of Afanas' maw.

Before he could disgrace himself by uttering an uncouth remark, Afanas coughed and rerouted his focus to the komodi.


"Ah-hah. That is where I come in, my horn-headed friend. I've kept in touch, so to say, with King Jürgen Kaiser for a while now. If all goes as planned, Alliria will have at its disposal cream-of-the-crop soldiers, veterans of bygone wars and aspiring knights, among others.

A small, knowing expression crossed his chalky countenance before perishing with all the swiftness of a mayfly on its second day of adulthood.


"From what I've gathered, King Jürgen doesn't seek coin to replenish his coffers, as he already enjoys opulent wealth. For that matter, I'll let you imagine what the king of the forgotten city might want in recompense."

Lorelei Darke said:

He will not, she said to her sister's mind, I am paying him too well. Here, and her hand lifted the cigarette which was not a cigarette from her lips to offer it to her sister. The cloud she exhaled from her lips was purpleish in hue and held a faint minty aroma. She was content amidst the crowd, so the Sten did little for her. For Aristeia, it would be the soothing balm she needed to make it through the evening.

We don't have much left, she reminded her. Savor it.

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Aristeia stiffened only a fraction as her sister offered her the Sten.

She loathed taking it in this form. A prepared tea would be been much preferred, but an establishment like this did not look as if they kept the good porcelain out back, or even knew how to brew a nice tea.

Then I will save it for later. She told her sister, shaking her head as if Lorelei could see her. I can manage without it...

And that is what she would tell herself.

To Zeviir, Aristeia managed a small smile before lowering herself into the seat beside her sister, the one occupied by her brilliant crimson robes folded neatly. She let it rest on her lap, clearing her throat and taking on a more quieter approach to being at the table.

She was Lorelei's voice tonight.

Why is it the moths always find your flame, sister? The amusement came through her thoughts, and yet her expression gave nothing away.

Dominic sits silently in his seat, listening to the other patrons speak about the various goings-on in the city. For any self-respecting businessman it was important to know when to shut up and listen. He had known about the supposed security force, but had not yet been notified just where these guards would be coming from.

The news caused Dom to take a long drag from his cigarette. He looked down at his own cards, absentmindedly shuffling them in his hand.

By now, it was clear to Dominic that he was sitting at the table with some strange folk. The tall one was basically yelling on a box that he was a vampire, and the two women...well, he wasn't sure of their game but whatever they were smoking had a strange smell to it.

"Doesn't matter who they get. The merchant council is corrupt, so so will the guards be."

When Meliant finally sat, Natasha rewarded him with a close-lipped smile- one of her quiet approval, though they both knew she was far too pleased with herself. Her voice filtered into his mind once more, like silk slipping through, curling in the shadows of his thoughts. Good boy. Delicate, purring. A master to her favored hound.

But her attention didn't linger on him, no. Her focus settled back on Eamon. It had been years, but time had done little to dull their particular brand of conversation. Words spun, light and unassuming, but underneath curled and licked at the edges of something sharper.

"You thought I had sent the letter?" The devourer was amused as she swirled her wine, watching the bloody liquid catch the dim candlelight. "I fear you'd be correct in your realization that I sent no such thing. But," She paused, her gaze flickering upward through her dark lashes, lips curving ever so slightly. "I would like to see it. I may recognize the handwriting."

Their exchange carried the air of mild flirtation, though words were nothing more than idle indulgences, rather than a careful game of veiled truths. Still, a flicker of annoyance slipped through her mental tether to him, threading into his mind like breath at the nape of one's neck.

You should know better than anyone. I am always careful.

Out loud, she exhaled something like a sigh, stretching the moment between them before providing an answer to his next inquiry. "Oh, you know." She mused, "Enjoying the celebrations. A drink. A game or two. I happened to step inside this gambling hall, and, well..." She gestured lightly, as though the rest was easily self-explanatory.

I did not intend on catching a stray. Her gaze flickered toward Cosimo. But he approached me, and there was something peculiar about him. I was considering a taste. Unless you have any objections.

A sip of wine. The faintest hum of amusement in her throat.

As for the bodyguard...he is simply my favorite hire. It has been years, Eamon. You will have to forgive me. My last guard, you see, met his unfortunate end when he no longer served me.

Another sip. A delicate smile while the other two chatted. She had missed these conversations.

The unknown man to her right with his perfect teeth and open display of a predator's grin had bought him intrigue, but only insomuch as her interrupted evening would allow. Both the conversation and the game, having meant to be private affairs, were now fully and irreparably broken. She fixed her komodi contact with a look that said as much for her displeasure on the matter and he afforded her an apologetic smile and a losing shrug.

There was nothing to be done for it without making an unnecessary scene. Given the attention they'd garnered without any effort at all, she was loathe to think what causing any further fervor at the table would do.

Perhaps it was best to fold for the night.

It is a natural byproduct of minding one's own business, dearest...

Lorelei placed her hand down on the table, face-down, and moved to stand from her seat. The height of her put her over the heads of everyone in attendance aside from the otternali and the handsome face with fangs to her right, "The hour has slipped past our notice. Gentlemen, I concede my game and broker to your devices for the evening."

"So soon, my Lady?" Zeviir pleaded as he stood from his chair in a show of propriety to her.

"I'll be in touch again, Zeviir. My sister and I have had a long journey and must attend to our... what do the ladies here call it? Beauty sleep?"