Open Chronicles The Lost Children

[Shiloh]

Maybe it was his history of heavy drinking, or maybe it was just a high metabolism, but Shiloh was back up early in the morning. He was taking his new role as a tavern owner seriously.

There weren't too many patrons early in the morning, but it was clear from the few that were there that they were the resident barfly's. Standard drunkards stayed there and thought they owned the place. Of course, Shiloh owned the place and that would not do now.

All it took was one fight in which he nearly killed the guy and order was restored.

However, the best part about owning a tavern in the morning. He had a cook and that cook was making him and his friends breakfast.

Shiloh joyfully knocked on his friend's doors.

"C'mon, you lot. Seize the day and get some grub."

Osha Sybille Osbert

 

[Osha]

"Rawuffff...wuffff!"

Bes barked as Shiloh knocked on her door. Her black, spooky companion clearly excited about the idea of breakfast. And the nose picking up the sizzling smell of fresh bacon. Osha groaned with one pale eye cracking open as Bes' front paws clawed at the door. A low whine coming out of her muzzle.

"Traitor," she whispered and huffed, rolling back over.

More howls and whines and an impatient thump of her tail against the room's floorboards. A scurry of claws and feet on wood followed by a boop of a very wet nose against her hand.

"Okayokay OKAY. I'm getting up."

 

[Osbert]

Os managed to sleep through the sunrise sounds of the docks. Copious amounts of wine had helped his brain ignore that particular alarm that had forced Sybille up.

What the wine didn't help with though was the pounding on his door. And if that dreadful sound wasn't bad enough, Shiloh's shouts of breakfast were like nails on a chalkboard as Osbert tried to steal the last few moments of slumber. It was futile though, his stomach already grumbling at the promise of a hot meal.

He found himself downstairs before long, giving Bes a scratch behind the black dog's ears, before taking in the mountain of eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast that Shiloh had managed to whip up.

"I knew you'd be a good manager but I didn't expect a proper breakfast so quickly," in taverns like this having a breakfast made sense he supposed. Some of the men from last night were still here, they'd line their stomachs with food before picking up the bottle again.

Clapping his hands together and scooping some of the breakfast onto a plate, Os spoke up, "so, anyone got any ideas for their day of leisure today?"

 

[Sybille]

Sybille was practically the last one to join them for breakfast, having attempted to fall back asleep for no less than two hours after she'd been awoken. It was an attempt that had ended in unfortunate failure, but at least the feather bed had been comfortable.

"Clothes." The girl answered quickly.

"I need new clothes." Most of hers she had either burned holes through or were little more than rags. She and Os had been on the road for months now, and the scraps she had remaining weren't going to do her much good. "But I think I'll need some coin first."

Sybille wanted something nicer than the trodden uniforms and small clothes she'd been given at the Academy. She had a few silvers stashed away, but those were for emergencies. While laying in bed she had formulated a simply enough plan though. Figuring it would be easy enough for her to go to their new...partners and earn a quick buck.

There was always something that needed doing.

 

[Shiloh]

Shiloh had long since had his fill, so he had his feet kicked up on a table and was enjoying a drink. He pointed to the back behind the counter where someone was working.

"That's the best part of this shit. You can just tell them to do it, and they handle it."

He looked down at his own clothes and had to admit that they looked a little shabby. Cuts, burns, and dirt lined the entire thing and even his boots felt like they were close to being walked through.

"I guess I could use some new clothes. You know, got to look the part and all."

 

[Osha]

"I need more supplies for rituals," she muttered between a mouthful of eggs as she offered a piece of toast to Bes beneath the table. "And...some information." She finished without expounding more on it. But like Sybille, she too needed coin.

"Money would be nice," she agreed with the redhead, light eyes briefly settling on the girl's gaze.

"Aramis still owes us a cut," she reminded them as she munched some more.

 

[Osbert]

"So," Os scooped another hefty serving of eggs into his mouth, "we're getting clothes," his speech slightly distorted as he spoke between bites of his breakfast. "And I guess we can find a shop that sells ritual... stuff."

He had no idea what sort of information the girl who'd joined them could possibly need and he didn't bother asking. Right now his main focus was on the meal. It'd been awhile since they'd had a proper breakfast. His teeth crunched into a particularly thick slice of bacon and this time he fully finished swallowing before speaking again.

"Coin will be easy," he tilted his head out towards the door, whilst jamming his fork into a link of sausage, "we either go ask the kivren for our cut today or we go see Aramis, as Osha suggested."

He stuffed the sausage into his mouth and started chewing. "Either one is fine by me." Or, if they wanted some particularly extravagant threads, they could hit up both.

 

[Sybille]

Clothes for herself and Shiloh, materials for rituals for Osha. Easy enough as far as considerations went, though Sybille wasn’t entirely sure they would be able to find a store that sold things for ‘rituals’.

Not that it was any real problem.”Oh.”

Sybille said with a slight frown.

”What about you Os?” She asked, noting that he had not added anything to the list for himself. ”Don’t you want anything?”

It had been a long while since they’d gotten to do enjoy much of anything. If she was going to get some new clothes, and Osha was going to get to do all her rituals, then all of them should get something. Shiloh got a whole bar for Kress’ sake!

Though she’d been the one to instigate that particular…reward. Not that she regretted it even for half a heart beat. Last night was the best she’d slept since she’d left home. Even the Academy, with its tall walls and promise of safety had never managed to compare, but anyone having spent time within those walls knew exactly why.

 

[Shiloh]

"We should go get funds from both of 'em. The more the merrier you know...besides, I've always wanted to dress up all fancy like."

He offered with a big grin as he finished up his own drink. Looking down at the glass, disappointed, he reached behind the bar and grabbed his own bottle. There that was better.

"We can get Os something nice. How about a nice hat, like the pointy ones they wear in Elbion? Os would look good in that."

Man, that would be hilarious.

 

[Osha]

A curious, quiet glance to the one that looked so much like her brother. Another bite of eggs. And french toast that was nearly floating in the pool of sticky-syrup she'd put on her plate. This beat any kind of food at the Academy.

The Weiroons actually had french toast very close to this what that white powedery sugar on top.

Pre-revolution things she still missed.

"I agree with Shiloh," she said quietly and stabbed the toast to bring the dripping mess up to her mouth. They were owed money and both parties better give them their dues.

 

[Osbert]

"I'm never, ever, going to want a hat." He said in a monotone voice towards Shi.

The thing that Os really wanted was to run this entire place with his friends. But that was a pretty tall ask for a single day. For now settling for the cash would be a nice start, and then... "a nice coat would be good. Especially if we're going clothes shopping anyway."

Oxygen manipulation had a tendency to rip the warmth right out of your bones. A weird little defect of his magic that he'd just simply dealt with for most of his life. The Banicks had gifted him a nice, fur-lined, jacket but he'd gotten the damn thing destroyed when he and Sybille had gone on that rotten excursion with Ceja.

"Let's go see Aramis first, the kivren after we score some new clothes," it wasn't just about making proper appearances though. He figured the fish-folk's coffers would be more full by the end of the day.

 

[Sybille]

Sybille nodded earnestly as Os mentioned a coat. Trying to remember if they had passed any good tailors on their way into town but coming up short just a few seconds later. "We'll find one."

She assured her companion, apparently more than happy to ensure they did.

The former Dreadlord had presumed that her little shopping venture would be a solo trip, though she was more than glad for the company. At least with the others she wouldn't have to be as worried about having a meltdown somewhere and turning half the city into a pile of slag.

"Okay." Sybille said with a small smile as Os directed them back towards the Lost Boys estate.

The four of them quickly made their way out of the tavern and into town proper. Reaching the Estate where Aramis and the others were staying not soon after they had left, finding their new business venture was only a short few blocks away from the main home of the others.

Convenient, she supposed.

As they arrived, a man stood talking to one of the others that shed seen here on their first visit. He was older than most Sybille had seen at the Manor, probably in his thirties at least, his clothes well maintained and clean. Oddly enough, he still wore the Dreadlords patch on his shoulder, but an old one. They caught part of the conversation as they walked by. "Thanks Duncan, we appreciate it. We'll try and get him settled here with the others, it's not been easy on some of the-"

The conversation died out and Sybille and the others continued, asking one of the former Dreadlords splayed on a large couch where they might find Aramis.

Aramis

 

[Shiloh]

"Fine, maybe I'll get a hat...and a coat."

But first, that sweet sweet money. Their trip back to Aramis' place was quick, and now that he was getting a look at it during the daytime, it looked a lot more busy.

"Hey, can someone hurry up and get Aramis out here? We need some funds for more fun."

Shiloh threw himself onto a couch before propping his feet up onto a coffee table. His eyes landed on the older gentleman and just stared at him, not saying a thing. It was the patch that irritated him. It was old, but still a patch for a Dreadlord. They were done with that, those people had forgotten about them. They had screwed them over.

 

[Aramis]

The older gentleman stared back. From the slight curve of his lips he seemed to be hoping the young upstart attempted to throw his weight around enough that he could be excused for mopping the floor with him. It would not take much for the First Level to erase the whole group of brats from existence. As the air began to hum with that slumbering power being stirred to life, one of his fellow card players shot him a scowl and punched him on the arm. He succeeded in drawing the older Dreadlord's attention away from the group only to turn around and give them all a glower himself.

"He's in the basement, now fuck off," he waved them off and turned back to the game. Nobody else paid them any mind.

It would be easy enough to find the basement. An iron doorway stood at the end of the corridor and once open a cold wind blew up from the darkness below. A faint torchlight in the distance was the only hint that someone was below. The Dreadlords who had taken over the manor had quickly repurposed the old pantry into a dungeon. Shelves had been cleared away and built in its stead were cramped cages that acted as a morbid corridor towards an open space where Aramis was currently sat in front of a canvas. Before him hung a woman by her wrists, her head lolled against her chest. Various cuts littered her body and both legs appeared to be twisted in unnatural ways. Her hoarse breathing couldn't be heard over the soft, lilting music coming from the little box Aramis had propped up on a nearby table amongst various nasty looking blades.

Aramis barely seemed to be aware of who approached as he painted, brows furrowed in concentration, and a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

 

[Osha]

If anything, Osha seemed more at home amongst the dark, cold dungeon. When she’d been younger, the Academy had used her in these places often. To see what she could do with the spirits of those they’d just killed. Of prisoners. Of runaways. Other initiates.

The pale moon glow of Bes’ preternatural eyes coming out more in the wane light.

Hackles were raised among her black fur. Osha brushed her fingertips along Bes’ back. Hard to say if it was for her comfort or her own. Silently, she reached out for sprits of the dead amongst this place, looking for her own information. Bes’ growl would alert Aramis to their return. As surely as Shiloh’s complaining or levity.

Pale eyes shifted to Osbert and Sybille. Osha had many gifts but negotiation and amiable conversation weren’t among them. Her brother had always been better at that. Much like Os was.

 

[Osbert]

"Best not poke bears," Osbert whispered to the others as they descended the steps into the basement, referring to the First Level they just passed by.

As they stood in the cold basement he did his best to ignore the woman hung by her wrists. They were ex-Dreadlords, they'd seen far more grisly sights than this, and for now he just had to pretend like the woman had done something to earn the ire of the other exiles.

Os cleared his throat gently before speaking up. "I'm sure you've already heard of the going-ons down by the dock? We kept the management structure of the kivren in place and they'll be paying the clubhouse a cut of earnings." He wobbled back-and-forth on the balls of his feet, staring at the canvas Aramis toiled at but not comprehend whatever the man was painting.

"Procured a nice little office space of us too," he added as his tone shifted and he got to the point, "but we've got one little snag. Need a bit of coin, bribes and such," a hand ran through his dusty brown hair as he did his best to seem as disinterested as Aramis was.

"So, you're busy, we're busy, a few hundred drakes should do it and we'll be out of your hair." His smile was bright, warm, and most importantly as nonthreatening as he could muster.

 

[Sybille]

Sybille took up a small flanking position behind Osbert, leaning herself against the door as he negotiated the pay out from Aramis. "Also."

She added, deciding to grab hold of the reigns of bravery, and glancing Aramis up and down.

"If you know any good Boutiques." Despite the anxiety in her chest, and despite the slight lie that Osbert had told, Sybille figured slipping in this bit of truth wouldn't hurt. They were all supposed to be friends anyway, and they'd need money for bribes too. "That would be nice too."

He did have a good sense of dress, and had been nice enough to hold the umbrella for her.

That at least had bought him some points. Despite her lingering distrust.

 

[Shiloh]

For once Shiloh made the correct choice and did not push the situation upstairs. Instead, he just offered a smile before descending the stairs.

As he got a feel for the vibe of the basement, even he would admit that the place was giving him the creeps. He subconsciously rested his hand on his wand holster, more to comfort him more than anything else.

When they finally came to Aramis, the scene before them was certainly disturbing, but he spoke without even thinking.

"Damn, I knew you were into some kinky shit."

Ok, that joke might have been in poor taste.

"Yeah, we just need to bribe some people and then they give us stuff. Some people call it capitalism."

Osha Osbert Sybille Aramis

 

[Aramis]

The woman stirred in her chains at the sound of voices and lifted her head to look at the Dreadlords gathered, pleadingly.

"What did I say about moving, mon chéri?" Aramis' voice was better suited to a bedroom than a dungeon but the woman shuddered at it with nothing but fear. Her eyes squeezed shut and after a brief hesitation she returned to her original position. The ink Dreadlord merely smiled and added a little more to his portrait before finally deigning to glance at the bunch of Lost Children who had finally stumbled back into his den.

"From my report you hardly need my money, not with your little taverne, non?" He removed the cigarette from his mouth and flicked the dying embers into a tray. Then he turned towards them, draping one arm casually over the back of his chair and hooking one leg over the other.

"And I assume, you hoped to keep the 10% of your profits with our watery friends?"