“Of course. Just don’t kill anyone. We don’t want to become murderers on top of thieves. I take it you like the plan now? You were very critical at first. Now, we’re all going anyone who’s in here, please come with us. This is a group endeavor.”
"Not necessarily like, just don’t think it as a prideful display of terrible organization." the Game-Carver sounds quite disappointed by their inability to work mostly on their own.
“Cheer up my friend, any good confidence game is played by a team.”
“You may be right, but an inability to spread out one’s theoretical wings and give it their best can be quite distressing.”
“Then be resolved that we shall give it our best. You must know I shall, I quite enjoy this sort of trickery and deception though I traditionally only practice it on Mr. Feducci, and if he ever deigns to apologize for his wrongs to me I shall cease stealing his secrets then.”
“If anyone deserves to be touched by a thief’s hand, it is Feducci, in for naught else, then for bearing the endless rotten corpse of antique mysteries that attracts Londoners like flies. But, I digress. There are confidences to be acquired.”
“Do you mistrust me Vavakx? Nonetheless, this is an enticing case, is it not?” He takes his cane and place his top hat upon his hair.
Dirae Erinyes nods to the captain. “We can get some if you wish for this job. If just for pleasure, I have a card for a lovely shop for all kinds of accessories. I’m going to step out for a moment - we will met you at the warehouse.”
"No need Dirae, I have a pair of my own. Taking them off Sinning Jenny was possibly one of the most exciting afternoons I’ve spent. I’d highly recommend trying it yourself, if you weren’t married. Though I’ll take that card if you don’t mind."
The Captain departs and returns to their home. Not long after they leave Warwick House and walk down Wolfstack Docks to a very particular warehouse. They have changed out of their uniform and are dressed in the most au courant of gowns. It is the same dark irrigo, near-black, as the uniform but is embroidered throughout with threads the color of zee-foam under Neathy Stars. They wear fine white gloves instead of gauntlets, though again, the fingertips are removed to allow fingernails filed to points to show. Their tiger, Dawon, pads quietly besides them.
As the Captain walks past Dirae and Evensong, loitering suspiciously on the Docks, they swing their hips just enough to swish their skirts up revealing a pair of scarlet stocking-clad ankles. They wink at the pair, forgetting that behind their spectacles no one can see it, but continue on without other indication they know them.
At the warehouse the Captain enters, with Dawon. Within they answer several questions from the Devils, "No, I am not here to see Catalina, and please inform her how much I regret our parting, but I will not see her, ever again. Yes, my threat against the Affectionate Devil is genuine, if ever I get him alone I shall pull him behind mirrors, and you will lose one of your finest agents. Consider the risks to your capital before you try for my soul again. Ahhhh, yes, well, this doesn’t involve either of those, I’m here on business. A simple transaction."
The Devils seem skeptical, but when the Captain pulls out a box filled with fresh solace-fruit they agree to listen.
"My associate, the Gleaming Marauder, has asked me to bring you this sample of the product for the next shipment. We have some concerns however, regarding previous shipments and payments. I shall require access to your books to satisfy his concerns. If all is in order we may proceed to settling the details for that next shipment."
All hangs in the balance on the Devils’ answers.
.
edited by absimiliard on 5/28/2016
"The case is interesting, yes, but doesn’t it seem strange how convenient all of this is? Compromising documents and extraordinary bribes all for the taking of a proxy, or for ours."
The Well-connected Game-Carver calls up a Silent Accomplice, and gives out commands as to what to bring and where. Sun-leaking boxes and small portions of Honey, lead Plaques and compact bribes are assigned to rooms and, occasionally, cups, weaving an elaborate veil of confusion, soon to be lowered upon the unsuspecting clergy.
edited by Vavakx Nonexus on 5/28/2016
“Dirae, Evensong, I believe it is your turn. Professor, when the coast is clear, we have to get into the warehouse.”
Koldun looks behind him and see no one. The actual Hell…? He could believe that the darned woman was silently lurking behind him just a few instants ago.
A bat drops a note wrapped on a small pebble on Koldun’s head and keep circling him. The note reads: “I heard you, I am just out of sight. Forgive me if I do not take breaking and entering lightly, but I do have a reputation as a law abiding citizen to hold, and I have to be very careful with the places I am seen by people. I will cover for you because I am not heartless, but consider yourself fortunate if I keep ‘invisible’ in this predicament. Wave to this bat if you absolutely need me next to you, but be warned that there will be noise if the devils as much as sniff my scent. And they will.”
Writes on a piece of paper, "Alright keep yourself hidden. I have written the section of the warehouse where I believe the bribe and Wyrm’s other cargo was stored. Make sure to look for anything strange." Writes the number of the warehouse section and crumples up the piece of paper into a ball and tosses it to bat, but in such a motion as to not be seen by any clerks.
edited by Koldun on 5/30/2016
Changed Stryx to Wyrm
edited by Koldun on 5/30/2016
(Sorry, when I was trying to post here last night, I kept getting interrupted.)
Evensong enters the building. Her modest clothing was swapped for an irrigo suit and a devilsh fedora set a rakish angle. With a confident swagger, she marches to the desk.
“Ms. Faust here,” she announces as she slaps her papers on the table. The devil eyes her and eyes the good Captain. Evensong fingers the fine pistol sitting at her hip. The devil gives an apologetic nod and rushes over to Evensong.
“Ms. Faust, we weren’t expecting you at this establishment.”
“Well according to these papers, my shipment is here.”
“There must be a mix-up.”
“Are you telling that there was a “mix-up”?
“It must be an honest mistake-“
“Are you telling the bazaar that you made “an honest mistake?” The devil keeps a deep sigh. This is clearly going to be a difficult customer.
Sitting on the roof, Morkan examines the little ornate box in his hand. The box itself was exquisitely made, a delicate little thing smaller than a bottle of wine. Inside is a little stone-fruit, now pulsating with an amber light.
"Guh, so this innit? A happy fruit that can’t kill? I wonder why they want this gone… Would’tha be a great party snack instead of the good old killer berries."
He furrows his brows as angry shouts from below come through the ceiling to his ear. Time, it seems, is running out.
"What’s that word they use for it? Nautralize? Nu-tralize? Guh, I am not much of a chemist…"
The Boastful Captain looks around. The view is excellent; the air is clear and the weather is fine today; but there is nothing that can help him. He could just use his gun to blow the special fruit apart, but the client did mention a bonus for subtle tampering.
"Time for the good old Morkan’s concoction, then!" He unbuttons his trousers.
The glowing stone-fruit withers and blacken under the shower.
"Curses!" The bearded man mutters briefly before descending from the roof via a rope. He,most certainly buttoned his trouser somewhere along the way. He still need to get the little special fruit back where it was.
edited by Morkan Kassington on 5/31/2016
The sudden appearance does not go unnoticed, as the Game-Carver calls up other members of the association “Partners, I do not think…” they release a sigh “such interactions were part of our plan. One of us is to chase this man. Strix, you have not been assigned a part in our ‘visit’, so could you kindly catch that specimen of questionable humanity and procure a beating worthy of his misdeeds?”
If you have never felt that someone just said your name, well, it happens. It is a nagging feeling burning at the tips of your ears and nose, and you may even sneeze if the name was said with too much emotion.
In her advantage point, almost a block away from the warehouse, the Inescapable Professor has exactly this feeling. Was it possible that literally no one had noticed that she was not following the group at close quarters? Nah, that is probably just her nerves. Her bigger, meaner and faster bat would follow Koldun in his infiltrating efforts and alert her if her presence, or more direct interference was needed. There were other bats patrolling the place, and some of them had special deliveries.
Suddenly, one of them appears, squeaking and chittering in a way that has to be disgust. When she understands what he is reporting, the Professor is equally disgusted. "He did what to WHAT?"
Frankly annoyed at this point, she clenches her teeth and decides to sort out this nonsense. She climbs the warehouse quickly and efficiently: it is one of her specialties. Once in the top, the short woman get a sandalwood club out of her coat, with a vake tooth on it. It was not useful in the confrontation with the beast, but it is still a good club. Plus, the sandalwood would get the stench of urine out of her nose.
When the zee Captain puts his head out of the hole in the roof, the Professor hits him with gusto, like she would have hit a mole getting out of its lair. His body is heard falling down there again. With a final roll of her eyes, the academic detective goes back to her observation point, grumbling and praying that no devil caught her scent. She doesn’t need another burned lodgings.
[quote=Professor Strix]
When the zee Captain puts his head out of the hole in the roof, the Professor hits him with gusto, like she would have hit a mole getting out of its lair. His body is heard falling down there again.[/quote]
"Gugh!"
The blow sent Morkan reeling back right into the second floor as he was descending. Luckily, he was built to last. And he caught sight of the assailant’s face.
He is not best pleased. His employer did brief him on interference, but they should have been neutral parties instead of hostiles. Especially semi-respectable academic old ladies that claims to be vehemently against devils.
He glances about. He has landed in what seems to be a sitting room. He could take out his flare gun and land the house in chaos, but his employer won’t be pleased. Looking out the window, his suspicions are confirmed. There are enough visitors today that "subtle tampering" is not an option anymore. The place will go down; he will have to turn in the fruit to his employer instead of leaving it here. He has to get out.
He can’t have that d__nable woman showing up to keep hitting him, though. And he’d rather not ambush her, or whatever conspirators she have.
Then an idea sprang to mind.
Very slowly, a makeshift white flag made from a wine bottle and a notebook pokes out from the window.
Inside the warehouse ‘Ms. Faust’ and the Curious Captain both wait. There isn’t a particular plan, but each knows they must stay in character. The Captain approaches, attempting to flirt with ‘Ms. Faust’, to do less might alert the Devils something is up.
But they can not. Evensong looks at their face, and even with eyes hidden behind glasses she can see distress – a buried wound hampering the act.
The Devils begin to look suspicious.
Screams of hate and, not surprisingly, jealousy rise from the back of the warehouse as the Definitive Demonic Deciphering Department of clerks, bound by an unstoppable love of alliteration - the last refuge of the scoundrel - investigate a sudden disappearance of one of their own.
At first, there are attempts to figure out the reasoning for this unusual situation, but soon it becomes clear that a drop of Prisoner’s Honey in the Hedonistic Accountant’s cup is to blame, and the bickering begins.
The high-pitched voices detail the many varied sins accrued by the Accountant, revealed to the demonic clergy during lunch breaks and acceptable ventures for personal freedom under the think smoke of cigars. Soon, the devils target the still present members of the Department, shifting blame between the more ambitiously mischievious clerks.
The frankly unamused shouts at the offices provide a suitable distraction for what might be considered the ‘frontline’ of this operation from the attention of demonic presences in the reception room.
edited by Vavakx Nonexus on 6/2/2016