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Mortal Thread - A Roleplay


ZincAboutIt

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Greetings! I've been away for ages but I deeply miss writing and rp so I'm back with an idea that I've been noodling with for over a year. This idea is based off a very interesting dream I had in early 2020, and it hasn't left me alone. I have done most of my writing in the Alleyverse so if you don't know me, I write long posts! You don't have to write long posts if you don't want to, but if you do want to, this is a good place to go deep into your character/s and really build something with a group. I have a rough idea for the plot but I plan on running this largely free-form with plenty of input from all of you, so if you have an idea please let me know! The general summary of the setting, magic system and plot are all below. Feel free to ask questions! I'll be creating a PM for this because constant OOC quoting and planning in-thread is distracting. Tag me if you'd like to be in the PM. Cheers!

Setting:

Spoiler

New Lere: A modern-era, sprawling metropolis of a city. This is the heart of the Atrarian Empire, perched at the confluence of two major rivers and a bastion of trade, politics, and culture. Anything you could ever want, you can get in New Lere. The city now fans out on all banks of the rivers, connected by a criss-cross of bridges, trams, and a subway network called the Jumpway. The city is called New Lere because the original city of Lere sunk into the silt and they had to build the rest of the city on top of it. This under-city is largely the province of the Underground, now.

Magic:

Spoiler

Tailoring. By using something called Mortal Thread, you can effectively stitch other appearances and abilities into yourself and use them at will. A licensed Tailor requires about as much training as a doctor or nurse, and once licensed they can join any number of Houses in order to use their abilities in a sanctioned way. 

  • Tailoring Houses: Many Houses produce men and women for pleasure districts. Others Tailor high-paying customers. Still others manufacture and train spies and covert operatives. Some will train apprentice Tailors. Some Tailor the policing and military forces. The licensed Houses are all affiliates of the Sanctioned Tailors Association, or STA. The STA controls all distribution and procurement of Mortal Thread. Without Mortal Thread, there is no Tailoring. Being an affiliate is one of the key reasons to keep your activities legal (or legal enough). The Underground has sparing access to any reliable sources of Mortal Thread.
  • “The Underground”: A broad term to indicate those who Tailor outside of the STA, effectively illegally. A few belong to a more established gang or loose group with better access to Thread, but most work on the fringes, stealing what they can get, working with inferior supplies and in worse conditions. If you want something that the Sanctions won’t give you, you go to the Underground. Cross-species Tailoring, excessive modifications, drastic age Tailoring, in addition to purchasing Tailored people without indenture (aka slavery). The Underground also tends to work with other black market supplies, smugglers, those selling drugs or armaments, etc. A few key gangs have a hand in every illegal industry, including below-board Tailoring. 
  • Splitting: There is also a process known as Splitting, which allows you to effectively clone yourself. Your Split has all your Tailored abilities and all your memories and knowledge, but it has no soul. So Splits are incredibly dangerous and very, very illegal to make. The knowledge of Splitting is incredibly repressed, and finding someone - even in the Underground - who will help you learn how is very difficult. No one wants to mess with Splits.

Backstory:

Spoiler

Over the last six months, New Lere has been plagued by a serial killer/thief known as the Wraith. He (it is assumed to be a male, due to height and build) has killed several high-profile figures in New Lere society, politics, and the STA. He is also likely responsible for the theft of a significant amount of Mortal Thread from two reputable Houses, most notably the covert operative Tailoring House of Lattice and Lattice. Authorities assume that it is someone in the Underground, but the Underground has been hit as well. It is believed that the Wraith is also responsible for the recent murder of Neil Blackwater himself, the infamous leader of the Blackwater Gang - New Lere’s most formidable organized crime ring.

Tensions run high in the city, with each of the Tailoring Houses eager to protect their interests while capitalizing on their competitors’ anxieties. The Houses that have been targeted seek to regain their good name and find out who has been stealing from them. And the Underground has been thrown into a power vacuum as the Blackwater Gang dissolves in infighting, and rivals circle the corpse, snapping for scraps.

As all this happens at home, the Atrarian Empire continues to push its borders in the Far Corners. Refugees and new citizens flood the capitol, only adding to the chaos. New Lere is wrapped in suspicion and tension as no one knows where the Wraith will strike next, who he is working for, and what he wants with so much Mortal Thread.

Characters/ Sample Character Sheet:

Spoiler

Blank Character Sheet: 

Spoiler

Name: 

Age: 

Height: 

Gender (if applicable):

Appearance:

Tailored? Yes/No

Modifications: 

Describe alt appearance (if applicable):

Other Tailored aspects:

House Affiliation: 

Backstory:

@AmazingGoob: Czokla "Fennec" Ahlstrom

Spoiler

Name: Czokla "Fennec" Ahlstrom 

Age: 38

Height: 6'0"

Gender: Male

Appearance:

   Hair: Blonde and cut short, parted to the right

   Eyes: Dark hazel

   Skin: Heavily tanned

Tailored? No

House Affiliation: Reports to the Underground Organizational Programme (UOP), a secret police organization run by a small coalition of various houses with interests in the Underground. The program is, for obvious reasons, mostly hidden to the STA.

Backstory: Czokla was born in the heartlands of the empire, deeply ingrained into Imperial culture but still distant from the dramas of New Lere. He lived in the moderately sized city of Krawza with his parents until he volunteered into the marines at the age of 20. Czokla then spent the next twelve years fighting in the wars of the Far Corners as part of an elite ops team. He in particular found excellence in the deserts of the east, where he won both his nickname and various military honors for excellence in the field. After a mild injury at the age of 32 had him down and out for a couple weeks Czokla decided to resign from military service and move to New Lere, where his reputation as an effective and loyal soldier (and reports of some darker parts of his service) quickly got him recruited by a the newly-founded UOP, eager to expand their interests in the Underground. Since then, he's reliably, diligently, and sometimes brutally followed the orders of his bosses, who have in turn given him a rather hefty paycheck and blind eyes to his personal activities in the underground

@Channelknight Fadran: Kleisha

Spoiler

Name: Kleisha (pronounced Kligh - shuh)

Age: Somewhere between 20s and 30s

Height: Exactly 5'5.5" (for no reason whatsoever) 

Gender: Female

Appearance: To picrew or not to picrew... eh, I'll draw her. Eventually.

  • Skin: Whiteish, but all scuffed up and generally dirty.
  • Eyes: Naturally brown
  • Hair: Naturally salt-and-pepper, short and choppy

Tailored? Yes/No

Modifications: After a short fascination with shrimp, Kleisha gave herself two brand-new, super-epic seafish powers: the ability to snap her fingers to create loads of heat (like a pistol shrimp), and the ability to swing her arm backwards so fast that she creates a temporary vacuum, sucking anything too close in (like... idk what it's called but it's scary).

Alt appearance: They have been given an octopus's ability to change color based on their emotion. This ability generally only extends to her hair color, but if she gets really emotional then it can bleed into her eyes and even patches of skin as well.

Other Tailored aspects: She also underwent an experimental Tailoring surgery to give her electric organs like an electric eel, but that ended up mostly not working (sometimes, however, her hair will jump up at random, and if you're unlucky, touching her can deliver as nasty shock). She can also control the flow of fluids in her body (mostly blood) to a surprising accuracy, using the same techniques as jet propulsion.

House Affiliation: None, currently.

Backstory: Her family was incredibly interested in marine biology; enough to have her take on more and more aquatic abilities. Her first graft was from an octopus, which allowed her to change hair color (they'd wanted to give her the cephalapod's ability to change shape, too [S P L A T O O N], but that wouldn't exactly work with bones). Her father grafted into her several other minor features (bioluminscent blood that you can barely see at night, a very weak regenerative ability [basically small cuts heal faster], and sweat that's ever so slightly more toxic than most other kinds), but mostly didn't give her anything too crazy since the octopus color-changing.

When she turned twenty, Kleisha finally left home to go live her own life. Her mother died while she was away, but her father's been faithfully working as always. She'd always return to him if she wanted a new modification (such as the shrimp powers) or just for some time to catch up.

Currently she's working as a mercenary, doing jobs as an armed guard and the like. Kleisha avoids the Underground whenever possible, but fears that she'll get roped into its problems sooner or later.

@Fallapede: Thalise Zesh

Spoiler

Name: Thalise Zesh

Age: 30

Height: 5'5

Gender (if applicable): Female

Appearance: Blonde hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, hands and upper arms covered in scar tissue. Typically wears dark full length shirts and gloves to cover up her scars along with a long skirt.

Tailored? Yes

Modifications:

Describe alt appearance (if applicable): No full changes in appearance, but has access to darker hair and a few different eye colors.

Other Tailored aspects: A number of both sanctioned and unsactioned ones, most notably venom glands taken from a taipan and vocal chords and ears modified for echolocation, as well as reinforcing the bones in her hands and wrists.

House Affiliation: None officially, but has at least tacit connections within several houses.

Backstory: Thalise works as a spy and assassin for both the STA and Underground, operating exclusively for the highest bidder. Originally studying medicine and Tailoring at the New Lere Medical Institute, the death of her parents and the desire to continue her education left her in sever debt to a major crime lord, and she was forced to get involved in Underground dirty work, which she found she had a taste for. After several years work clearing her debt, she began to build enough of a name for herself in certain circles that she attracted clientele of a higher caliber. Leaving her former employer with  notice of her departure and a cup of tea laced with snake venom, she began running her own small operation out of a disused bookstore.

@Invocation: Alec King

Spoiler

Name: Alec King

Age: 21

Height: 6'3" 

Gender (if applicable): Male

Appearance: Alec is a tall man with just-past-shoulder-length red hair and a penchant for black-and-purple gradient clothing and sunglasses in similar colors.

Tailored? Yes 

Modifications: Enhanced vital functions (strength, speed, endurance, just generally hardier and better at recovering) plus turning his eyes purple for purely dramatic purposes

Other Tailored aspects: None

House Affiliation: Inspector for the STA itself.

Backstory: Alec's mother and father were killed in a botched Tailoring, seeking to make themselves younger any way possible. He was just old enough to comprehend the fact of what killed them, but not old enough to blame them. Instead, he grew bitter against those practicing unlicensed Tailoring, leading him to march to the nearest STA facility and make a nuisance of himself until they agreed he could be an inspector. Given that he was small and twiggy at the time, though, clearly they couldn't let him go out on his own. He was only recently trusted to go out on his own instead of being looped under the wing of a mentor, and is determined to keep unlicensed Tailoring out of the hands of as many people as possible by reducing the amount of Thread given out in general. 
With an iron fist if necessary.
Or by enlisting elements of the underground itself to locate leaks.t

@Rushu42: Teresa Klydorin

Spoiler

Name: Teresa Klydorin

Age: 25

Height: 5'2"

Gender (if applicable): Female

Appearance: Medium-dark skin, frizzy black hair, faint freckles, and a perpetual grin. Looks younger than she is. 

Tailored? No

Skills: Highly trained in Tailoring and conventional medicine

House Affiliation: Currently applying for a job with the STA.

Backstory: 

Spoiler

Teresa is from Reneland, a small country to the south that was recently assimilated into the Empire. She's the oldest of 5 children - 3 sisters and one brother. A bright student, she was accepted into a prestigious medical program at Reneland's best university. However, she was rejected for the scholarship she applied for - leaving her with no way to pay tuition.

With all the wisdom of a desperate 18 year old, she decided not to tell her parents that she'd lost the scholarship. Instead, she tracked down a member of the local underground who she'd heard was willing to grant loans to just about anyone, a woman named Zywin Channing. Channing agreed to extend a loan, to be paid back with significant interest once Teresa had started her career. 

Deal struck, Teresa proceeded to excel at her studies, specializing in the use of Tailoring for medical procedures, especially in attempts to cure long-term illnesses. She was at the top of her class, and looking forward to an exciting career. That is, until Channing came to collect - far earlier than Teresa had anticipated. 

She was just out of grad school, and had no way to pay off the huge sum that the crime boss required. It was then that she began to realize just how out of her depth she was, as Channing's threats made it clear that she was far more powerful in the underground than just a simple loan shark. Teresa had no choice but to agree to Channing's demands, which were the following:

Teresa would work for Channing until it was determined that her debt was paid off (a worryingly unspecified amount of time). The assignment she was given was to gain a job at the STA, and use it to gain access to the head of the organization. She would then find a way to corner them and create a Split, which would be captured and taken to Channing. Until then, she'd have to covertly gather what information she could that would assist the crime lord in avoiding law enforcement. This was all given despite Teresa's protestations that she had no idea how to make a Split - or, for that matter, no idea how to kidnap someone or spy on an organization. Channing curtly told her that if she had no way to be useful, she'd have no reason to keep Teresa or her family alive.

So she moved to the city and began her application to the STA, terrifyingly aware of how in over her head she was.

 

@Sorana: Bree

Spoiler

Name: Bree (Brianna Walters)

Age: 32

Height: 5'4"

Hair: long and curly, blonde

Eyes: light green

Skin: while, with tatoos covering most of her body

Tailored: No

Skills: Tailoring, knows how to create a split

House Affiliation: Underground

Backstory: Brianna leaned back against the wall, listened to the water slowly dripping down. It made a funny noise every now and then, when the drop hit the stones next to her at a slightly different angle than the ones before him. It was always the fith or the sixth drop and she found herself counting along, waited for that slittle splash that indicated that the drop had been swallowed by a little puddle on the ground. Moving her arms slightly she winced when the heavy manacles moved over the raw flesh on her arms, her chains clinking in the silence. Apart from the drops. The drops. They drove her crazy, never once stopped, always dripping, always splashing when they hit the stinking liquid on the ground. She screamed, but only a hoarse croak left her mouth, her voice rusty from missing use. Brianna moved again, tried to strech her back, to ease the pain that came from remaining too long in one position. One. Two. Three. Splash. One, two, she moved again, drowned out the endless dropping for a moment. Splash. One, two...

She perked up at the sound of a key, and with a groan slowly pushed herself to her feet. She wouldn't face her sitting on the ground like a discarded doll. She was barely standing, more kneeling, one hand trying to push herself farther up when the door opened and a woman stepped inside. Brianna's stomach recoiled at the sight of her, at the beautiful hair and body. She knew that she had never been a woman to turn heads whereever she went, but here, in this place she seemed to be the most beautiful being she'd ever seen.

"Brianna." The woman greeted her and twisted her nose in disgust. "You should clean up. It stinks." Brianna ignored her, continued to try to get to her feet and finally managing to place one foot on the ground. "And your cloths, I would never have thought you would neglect yourself like that. Just look at your nails." Gritting her teeth in anger Brianna finally pushed herself up completely, stared into that beautiful face. "You are always welcome to take my place and stay here for a week or two." She replied, the tiredness in her voice taking the edge away from her words.

"Or I don't." She smiled at her and set down a basket with water and food, just out of Brianna's reach. "You serve me better here, little Brianna." Smiling she opened the basket and lifted a loaf of bread, looked at it, and with a shrug threw it down at Brianna's feet. Brianna winced, hastily bent down to pick it up before it soaked up the stenchy liquid she tried very hard to convince herself was nothing but water. Stinking water, but only water. Strange how she still was disgusted by something, even after all this time.

By the time she was looking up again, she found herself looking again at that face, at the hair and body that once had been hers. Hers and hers alone. Her body, her life. Until it had been stolen. Until she had stolen it from herself.

"Let me go." she whispered, throat aching. "Bree, please." Using the name, her own name was followed by the usual twinge of digust burried, but she had long learned that lesson.

"Or maybe I don't." Bree smiled, a wonderful, bright smile that Brianna had always been proud of. And then she pushed the basket over and left her alone. Brianna screamed and this time it was a real scream, she screamed and screamed, despite the pain that it brought. It would be months till she saw her again, months until she had another chance to convince her to let her go.

@The Unknown Order: Tainor Bask

Spoiler

Name: Tainor Bask

Age: 28

Height: 6, 1

Gender (if applicable): Male 

Appearance: Tall, with blond hair and blue-green eyes. He is handsome, with a strong jaw and skillfully styled hair. Fairly muscled, he is visibly Tailored to have four arms.

Tailored? Yes

Modifications: Two extra non-dominant arms, doubled up muscles

Describe alt appearance (if applicable): 5, 10 and a half, has dark skin and dreadlocks, but still looks quite sophisticated. 

Other Tailored aspects: Don't really understand this one.

House Affiliation: None, but he deals with the Blackwater and Shadowcastle gangs.

Backstory: Tainor Bask was born in one of the many clans outside of the civilizing influence of the Atrarian Empire. His family relocated to New Lere as the nation expanded outward, pushing their once important clan, town, and position of trader became obsolete. Tainor's mom died of sickness not long after their move, which caused his father to bury himself in his work. During this time, Tainor's brother got involved in some shady underground business and was killed. One of Tainor's sisters started learning to be a Tailor and broke all family ties. Tainor's other sister got married several years later and moved to a town outside of New Lere. She continued contact for a few years, but she stopped six years later for reasons unknown to Tainor. Tainor, who still wasn't quite old enough to work, began investigating his brother's murder. Tainor ended up killing them after becoming enraged when he revealed that he knew what the murderer had done. Tainor was then caught and taken to jail, where they then broke out. After some time, an underground Tailor captured Tainor and sold him to a wealthy member of the aristocracy. Tainor later became an errand boy for that man's daughter. It was during that time that Tainor gained their extra limbs in addition to the enhancements received from the rogue Tailor.  Taskis van Burough pulled some strings to clear Tainor's record so that no shade would be cast on him for having a servant with a record. The noble's daughter would later go on to learn to become a Tailor. She kept Tainor with her as essentially her manservant. While Saris learned how to Tailor, Tainor realized they had a natural talent for it. After learning a decent amount, they used it to disguise themselves as Saris' boyfriend, but when Tainor exited the building, Taskis forced him to return to his daughter's rooms to apologize for what he did. Thinking that he had been discovered, Tainor ran but was caught by the noble's bodyguard, who took him to Saris' rooms to apologize. He then realized that the man actually believed he were Saris' boyfriend. Tainor then apologized for some generic wrong before being allowed to leave. After leaving, Tainor went to look for his father only to find that the man had died of a combination of overwork and grief. He then lived in the underground for some time slowly moving up the ranks. Eventually, Tainor started smuggling goods using his knowledge of both trade and the underground as well as his enhancements to thrive. He is now at the top of the social ladder for smugglers because he was skilled at smuggling Mortal Thread. He supplied both the Blackwater gang and the Shadowcastle gang with Mortal Thread. Tainor is both concerned and happy because of the assasination plus theft because Blackwater gang hunting people down is good for Thread use, but he also heard that the Shadowcastle gang had made a new deal for Mortal Thread that he believes was with the assassin/thief.

@Voidus: Logain Hezrat

Spoiler

Name: Logain Hezrat

Age: 22

Height: Very average height, Zinc knows how tall that is.

Gender: Male

Hair: Incredibly coarse, short-cropped black hair.

Eyes: Murky brown

Skin: Olive-skinned, small scars across his arms.

Tailored? Yes

One underground-conducted trans-species modification. Pit-viper thermoception (Infra-red vision).

House Affiliation: Underground, but wishes to gain ties to the STA.

Backstory: A child of the streets, Logain is very familiar with the Underground and the Undercity of New Lere. Logain's father was a member of one of the many gangs of the Underground, but got himself killed in a gang fight before Logain could even remember him. His mother kept Logain for as long as she could, trying to support them both but in the end decided that the only way both of them would survive is if she sold him. Unable to bring himself to blame her, Logain resigned himself to a life of slavery. He was used for the practice of Underground Tailor's to learn trans-species modifications, many of which never took and left him with horrific scars which he still bears. His only partial-success was a retinal modification that involved the iris' of a pit-viper, but even this success came at a cost, his eyes now burn when in direct sunlight, relegating Logain even further into the darkness of the underground.
The gang he was sold to was eventually taken over in a turf-war, and Logain's existence went unnoticed long enough for him to escape his quarters and make it out onto the streets. Here he managed to pick up enough survival and fighting skills to keep from being killed, floated from one group to the next but has never been able to settle. He counts every free breath a blessing and is determined to try to see what positives he can find in life now, but he despises the lawlessness of the underground and wishes to be able to enter the surface society of New Lere. 
The recent news of the Wraith has Logain on edge, worried that the Underground is doomed to collapse into an even more chaotic and violent mess than it already has, but also hopes for an opportunity to find the Wraith and in so doing manage to gain the appreciation of the STA.

@ZincAboutIt: Stasia Errons 

Spoiler

Name: Stasia Errons (Agent C-86)

Age: 25

Height: Average. 5’5”

Gender: Female

Hair: Dark brown, straight, long

Eyes: Amber

Skin: Tan, freckles

Tailored? Yes

Modifications: One alternate appearance. Age and height remain roughly constant.  One STA-approved trans-species aural modification, licensed and registered:  Canine-level hearing

Describe alt appearance:

Hair: Light brown, tightly curled, cut at shoulders

Eyes: Hazel

Skin: Dark tan (Indian/Middle Eastern for reference)

House Affiliation: Lattice & Lattice operative, mostly surveillance and intelligence

Backstory: Stasia was indentured to Lattice & Lattice when she was 8, after her parents fell on hard times and couldn’t afford to feed all their children. They received a small stipend from Lattice & Lattice until she reached legal maturity (age 17), at which point Stasia now receives the stipend and can do with it as she likes. Stasia was gradually Tailored over the course of five years, beginning at age 10. During the time before, as well as during the process, Stasia trained with her cohort learning a typical school curriculum as well as some more unorthodox subjects like basic firearms training, rudimentary hand-to-hand, surveillance, data gathering, and more. Stasia proved talented in intelligence and surveillance, as well as possessing an aptitude for stealth. She was selected to receive a fully alternate Tailoring, as well as a licensed trans-species mod. 

Stasia is close with her supervisor and handler, 30-year-old Kurt Vadinsky, who runs logistics for Stasia along with several other agents that Stasia doesn’t know. She rarely ever visits Lattice & Lattice now that she’s out on regular missions, except to debrief after a long stint somewhere or another. Stasia lives alone in a small flat with a cat named Cabbage, who comes and goes as he pleases. She loves dance clubs, strong coffee, noodles, and walking along high places

.

 

It was an ugly night, even as nights in the Underground went. One of late summer's storms had hit New Lere the day before, and all the muck running off the city's glass towers and trickling through its gutters made its way down here, raining filth onto the undercity. There's a metaphor in there, somewhere. Stasia wove her way through the hot, murky streets, hood up despite the muggy air to assail the worst of the drizzle. She did her best not to think about what was slicking her shoulders as she passed through a cloud of steam that billowed out from a vendor's food cart; the stench of urine and garbage was briefly overpowered by the scent of steamed buns. Stasia stopped, peered at the vendor's offerings, and slipped the older man half a credit for two of the pale, fluffy pastries. He grinned at her with a mouth of largely-intact teeth, and she nodded back.

She ate the buns hurriedly and with little ceremony, careful to duck her head to avoid eating New Lere's gutter leavings in addition to her meal. There was no telling what would be on offer once she arrived at the meeting point, but she somehow doubted that there would be steamed buns. It was best to eat when one found the chance.

Stasia crammed the last third of her second bun into her mouth when she caught sight of the little "C" scratched into the old stone wall that lead down an unremarkable-looking alley. She finished chewing, swallowed, and ducked down the passage without ceremony. The first rule of sneaking was to avoid looking sneaky. No one gave you a second glance if you moved as though you were meant to be there. And I am meant to be here, she thought with a tiny, wry smile. It had been a while since she'd been given a job that required this type of covert observation. Stasia half-suspected that Kurt was feeling guilty for the six months she'd spent in an accounting firm this past year. Being sent down here was dangerous, but at least it was exciting. 

Her eyes quickly adjusted to the deeper gloom as she walked, and soon the shape of a man resolved itself from the dark, leaning against the wall.

"Evening, love," he said, his voice easy. His posture was calm, but ready for trouble. Stasia didn't look like much of a threat, but that didn't mean much in New Lere. Anyone could look like anything.

Stasia held up twenty credits between her middle and index finger. "Here for the latest vintage," she said. The man took her twenty cred and raised one dark eyebrow.

"A bottle, or a glass?"

"We'll see which one breaks first," she replied, completing the passphrase. The man pocketed the credits, then knocked three times against an old, overflowing dumpster that appeared to take up the entire back portion of the alley. 

Stasia nodded and walked around the dumpster to the opposite side to find another man heaving up a thick, iron door that had been set flush into the brick floor of the alley. A set of ancient-looking stone stairs descended into darkness broken by flickers of neon light that played against the rough stone walls. The growl of a heavy base line pulsed up into the night.

She descended without a word, trailing one hand against the wall as the door was lowered back into place above her. Then, in the dark, Stasia began to Change. Her skin bled from a rich brown to golden tan, and a dusting of freckles appeared on her nose and cheeks. Her eyes shifted from hazel to bright amber, narrowing and tilting up at the edges. As she continued down the steps, she stripped off her coat and turned it inside-out, swapping the dingy grey for the far nicer deep blue that had previously hidden as her lining. When she stepped down into the Cellar, she was a totally different person.

Or rather, she was herself. Her real self. Possibly the most infallible disguise she had at her disposal. She smiled as she wove her way through the press of bodies, the makeup that had blended into her darker skin now standing out deep and smokey on her lighter complexion. She'd be meeting her contact at half-past ten, which meant she had nearly half an hour to case the place, have a drink, and maybe even dance. The prospect made her smile a little wider, and she slid up towards the bar.

It was cool down here despite the press of people and the summer weather, and Stasia was glad she'd kept her coat on, though she left it open. She was dressed well enough to avoid looking like a pauper but not so well as to be mistaken for a noble - a good middle ground. Her pants were sensible, black and tight enough for vanity but not much beyond. She'd allowed herself a little more leeway with her top, a slightly brighter blue than her coat and cut in some unorthodox places. Stasia grinned openly as she imagined what Kurt's face might look like if he could see her now. You send me to a club,Vadinsky, and I'll dress for one.

She watched the crowd, letting her smile slip away into a more bored expression, eyes moving over the Cellar with practiced ease. If everything went according to plan, in thirty minutes she'd meet this other agent that Kurt had been talking about. And then, they'd watch some people try and kill each other.

Edited by ZincAboutIt
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@ZincAboutIt

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We already talked about it, but I'll reuse Bree from over a year so. Here's her sheet for you to look over - an introduction post will come afterwards. Also please add me to the PM.

And thanks for restarting this. I really missed writing.

Spoiler

Name: Bree (Brianna Walters)

Age: 32

Height: 5'4"

Hair: long and curly, blonde

Eyes: light green

Skin: while, with tatoos covering most of her body

Tailored: No

Skills: Tailoring, knows how to create a split

House Affiliation: Underground

Backstory: Brianna leaned back against the wall, listened to the water slowly dripping down. It made a funny noise every now and then, when the drop hit the stones next to her at a slightly different angle than the ones before him. It was always the fith or the sixth drop and she found herself counting along, waited for that slittle splash that indicated that the drop had been swallowed by a little puddle on the ground. Moving her arms slightly she winced when the heavy manacles moved over the raw flesh on her arms, her chains clinking in the silence. Apart from the drops. The drops. They drove her crazy, never once stopped, always dripping, always splashing when they hit the stinking liquid on the ground. She screamed, but only a hoarse croak left her mouth, her voice rusty from missing use. Brianna moved again, tried to strech her back, to ease the pain that came from remaining too long in one position. One. Two. Three. Splash. One, two, she moved again, drowned out the endless dropping for a moment. Splash. One, two...

She perked up at the sound of a key, and with a groan slowly pushed herself to her feet. She wouldn't face her sitting on the ground like a discarded doll. She was barely standing, more kneeling, one hand trying to push herself farther up when the door opened and a woman stepped inside. Brianna's stomach recoiled at the sight of her, at the beautiful hair and body. She knew that she had never been a woman to turn heads whereever she went, but here, in this place she seemed to be the most beautiful being she'd ever seen.

"Brianna." The woman greeted her and twisted her nose in disgust. "You should clean up. It stinks." Brianna ignored her, continued to try to get to her feet and finally managing to place one foot on the ground. "And your cloths, I would never have thought you would neglect yourself like that. Just look at your nails." Gritting her teeth in anger Brianna finally pushed herself up completely, stared into that beautiful face. "You are always welcome to take my place and stay here for a week or two." She replied, the tiredness in her voice taking the edge away from her words.

"Or I don't." She smiled at her and set down a basket with water and food, just out of Brianna's reach. "You serve me better here, little Brianna." Smiling she opened the basket and lifted a loaf of bread, looked at it, and with a shrug threw it down at Brianna's feet. Brianna winced, hastily bent down to pick it up before it soaked up the stenchy liquid she tried very hard to convince herself was nothing but water. Stinking water, but only water. Strange how she still was disgusted by something, even after all this time.

By the time she was looking up again, she found herself looking again at that face, at the hair and body that once had been hers. Hers and hers alone. Her body, her life. Until it had been stolen. Until she had stolen it from herself.

"Let me go." she whispered, throat aching. "Bree, please." Using the name, her own name was followed by the usual twinge of digust burried, but she had long learned that lesson.

"Or maybe I don't." Bree smiled, a wonderful, bright smile that Brianna had always been proud of. And then she pushed the basket over and left her alone. Brianna screamed and this time it was a real scream, she screamed and screamed, despite the pain that it brought. It would be months till she saw her again, months until she had another chance to convince her to let her go.

 

 

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Goodness gracious, neither Zinc or Sorana are dead???

Aight I'm joining.

Spoiler

Name: Kleisha (pronounced Kligh - shuh)

Age: Somewhere between 20s and 30s

Height: Exactly 5'5.5" (for no reason whatsoever) 

Gender: Female

Appearance: To picrew or not to picrew... eh, I'll draw her. Eventually.

  • Skin: Whiteish, but all scuffed up and generally dirty.
  • Eyes: Naturally brown
  • Hair: Naturally salt-and-pepper, short and choppy

Tailored? Yes/No

Modifications: After a short fascination with shrimp, Kleisha gave herself two brand-new, super-epic seafish powers: the ability to snap her fingers to create loads of heat (like a pistol shrimp), and the ability to swing her arm backwards so fast that she creates a temporary vacuum, sucking anything too close in (like... idk what it's called but it's scary).

Alt appearance: They have been given an octopus's ability to change color based on their emotion. This ability generally only extends to her hair color, but if she gets really emotional then it can bleed into her eyes and even patches of skin as well.

Other Tailored aspects: She also underwent an experimental Tailoring surgery to give her electric organs like an electric eel, but that ended up mostly not working (sometimes, however, her hair will jump up at random, and if you're unlucky, touching her can deliver as nasty shock). She can also control the flow of fluids in her body (mostly blood) to a surprising accuracy, using the same techniques as jet propulsion.

House Affiliation: None, currently.

Backstory: Her family was incredibly interested in marine biology; enough to have her take on more and more aquatic abilities. Her first graft was from an octopus, which allowed her to change hair color (they'd wanted to give her the cephalapod's ability to change shape, too [S P L A T O O N], but that wouldn't exactly work with bones). Her father grafted into her several other minor features (bioluminscent blood that you can barely see at night, a very weak regenerative ability [basically small cuts heal faster], and sweat that's ever so slightly more toxic than most other kinds), but mostly didn't give her anything too crazy since the octopus color-changing.

When she turned twenty, Kleisha finally left home to go live her own life. Her mother died while she was away, but her father's been faithfully working as always. She'd always return to him if she wanted a new modification (such as the shrimp powers) or just for some time to catch up.

Currently she's working as a mercenary, doing jobs as an armed guard and the like. Kleisha avoids the Underground whenever possible, but fears that she'll get roped into its problems sooner or later.

 

 

Edited by Channelknight Fadran
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Old character sheet from last time, may make some changes later depending on what everyone else goes with but for now:

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Name: Logain Hezrat

Age: 22

Height: Very average height, Zinc knows how tall that is.

Gender: Male

Hair: Incredibly coarse, short-cropped black hair.

Eyes: Murky brown

Skin: Olive-skinned, small scars across his arms.

Tailored? Yes

One underground-conducted trans-species modification. Pit-viper thermoception (Infra-red vision).

House Affiliation: Underground, but wishes to gain ties to the STA.

Backstory: A child of the streets, Logain is very familiar with the Underground and the Undercity of New Lere. Logain's father was a member of one of the many gangs of the Underground, but got himself killed in a gang fight before Logain could even remember him. His mother kept Logain for as long as she could, trying to support them both but in the end decided that the only way both of them would survive is if she sold him. Unable to bring himself to blame her, Logain resigned himself to a life of slavery. He was used for the practice of Underground Tailor's to learn trans-species modifications, many of which never took and left him with horrific scars which he still bears. His only partial-success was a retinal modification that involved the iris' of a pit-viper, but even this success came at a cost, his eyes now burn when in direct sunlight, relegating Logain even further into the darkness of the underground.
The gang he was sold to was eventually taken over in a turf-war, and Logain's existence went unnoticed long enough for him to escape his quarters and make it out onto the streets. Here he managed to pick up enough survival and fighting skills to keep from being killed, floated from one group to the next but has never been able to settle. He counts every free breath a blessing and is determined to try to see what positives he can find in life now, but he despises the lawlessness of the underground and wishes to be able to enter the surface society of New Lere. 
The recent news of the Wraith has Logain on edge, worried that the Underground is doomed to collapse into an even more chaotic and violent mess than it already has, but also hopes for an opportunity to find the Wraith and in so doing manage to gain the appreciation of the STA.

 

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Name: Alec King

Age: 21

Height: 6'3" 

Gender (if applicable): Male

Appearance: Alec is a tall man with just-past-shoulder-length red hair and a penchant for black-and-purple gradient clothing and sunglasses in similar colors.

Tailored? Yes 

Modifications: Enhanced vital functions (strength, speed, endurance, just generally hardier and better at recovering) plus turning his eyes purple for purely dramatic purposes

Other Tailored aspects: None

House Affiliation: Inspector for the STA itself.

Backstory: Alec's mother and father were killed in a botched Tailoring, seeking to make themselves younger any way possible. He was just old enough to comprehend the fact of what killed them, but not old enough to blame them. Instead, he grew bitter against those practicing unlicensed Tailoring, leading him to march to the nearest STA facility and make a nuisance of himself until they agreed he could be an inspector. Given that he was small and twiggy at the time, though, clearly they couldn't let him go out on his own. He was only recently trusted to go out on his own instead of being looped under the wing of a mentor, and is determined to keep unlicensed Tailoring out of the hands of as many people as possible by reducing the amount of Thread given out in general. 
With an iron fist if necessary.
Or by enlisting elements of the underground itself to locate leaks.

 

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Character. Rather happy about this one came out

Spoiler

Name: Czokla "Fennec" Ahlstrom 

Age: 38

Height: 6'0"

Gender: Male

Appearance:

   Hair: Blonde and cut short, parted to the right

   Eyes: Dark hazel

   Skin: Heavily tanned

Tailored? No

House Affiliation: Reports to the Underground Organizational Programme (UOP), a secret police organization run by a small coalition of various houses with interests in the Underground. The program is, for obvious reasons, mostly hidden to the STA.

Backstory: Czokla was born in the heartlands of the empire, deeply ingrained into Imperial culture but still distant from the dramas of New Lere. He lived in the moderately sized city of Krawza with his parents until he volunteered into the marines at the age of 20. Czokla then spent the next twelve years fighting in the wars of the Far Corners as part of an elite ops team. He in particular found excellence in the deserts of the east, where he won both his nickname and various military honors for excellence in the field. After a mild injury at the age of 32 had him down and out for a couple weeks Czokla decided to resign from military service and move to New Lere, where his reputation as an effective and loyal soldier (and reports of some darker parts of his service) quickly got him recruited by a the newly-founded UOP, eager to expand their interests in the Underground. Since then, he's reliably, diligently, and sometimes brutally followed the orders of his bosses, who have in turn given him a rather hefty paycheck and blind eyes to his personal activities in the underground.

 

Edited by AmazingGoob
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Thank you so much for the kind words! It feels so good to be back!

@Channelknight Fadran @AmazingGoob

Anyway, I figured I could start with some ic introduction of Bree, as I've got a spare minute right now and I'm really, really excited for this. And to rp in free form again. And to be back. And all of it :D

 

"Thank you." Bree shot the young man behind the bar a bright, sweet smile before she reached out for her drink. The green liquid moved in the glass when she lifted it off the counter and with a last, tiny wave to the barkeep she turned around and observed the room. It was filling slowly, with more and more people arriving every minute. She looked for someone interesting enough to venture over and start a conversation to bridge the time until some rich guy appeared - but for now nobody caught her eye. It was the usual mixture these fights attracted. The poor ones that came for the spectacle, the discreet ones whose eyes rarely left the pockets of those attending, the desperate ones who would end up in the middle of it, those that would fight for a few credits, those that would die for nothing. And then there were those like herself. Those that came because they were looking for associates, for people willing to conduct business. There was rarely a better opportunity for a few meetings.

Taking a sip of her drink she suppressed a grimace at its strong, harsh taste, the alcohol bitter and fierce in her mouth. As cute as that man was - he obviously had no idea how to mix a decent drink. Looking back she let her eyes glide over his face, wondering whether he had been tailored or not. Probably. His looks were too good, too clean to be natural. And they were boring. There was no real challenge in altering the looks of a person. The eyes, yes, bones were interesting, especially if you added arms. But the skin? That was boring.

Turning her attention away from him she walked through the room, looking for a nice spot to wait and observe for a while. Passing a mirror she smiled at herself, carefully corrected the way the edges of her mouth lifted. Smiling was difficult, she rarely got it really right. But she looked amazing today. The smile vanished while she studied her apperance.

Sleeveless, the bright green fabric of her shirt hugged her chest and waist in just the right way, without showing too much. She was here to sell her skills, but skills and skills were too different pairs of shoes. Better to make sure nobody got the wrong impression in the first place. Getting rid of drunk individuals usually ended with dirty cloths and she absolutely hated only a few things more than washing her cloths. Especially when you had to hand wash them until the stains had been taken care of.

Leaning against a wall she shifted her weight to her left leg, her dark grey, nearly black pants a nice contrast to her bright shirt and the lighter grey of her coat. Most wore a coat down here and so did she, although it wasn't exactly neccessary. Simply better to blend in and be normal. Or at least as normal as everybody else here was.

The fighting area had been marked hours ago, separated from the gathering crowd bysome low fences and security personal. She scanned their faces, tried to discern if she knew some of them, then pursed her lips in disappointment. The boy Jake, Jaune, or maybe his name was Jack, was here tonight. He was a soft guy, too soft for her liking. Here it was, the one chance to watch some fun, and he always gave the combatants his "be nice to each other, don't torture, fight honestly" talk. More often than not, nobody listened, but if they did, then they were in for some boring fighting, with only a few nice screams at the end of it.

Turning away from the pit she slowly moved through the room, now looking for customers earnestly. Better make use of the time until the battle begun. She had had a few ideas, she would like to try out, especially now with the rumors driving everybody crazy. It was the perfect situation to look for some profit. And she was sure, that there would be some interesting individuals down here tonight.

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Here's my character, backstory to be edited in shortly. 

Spoiler

Name: Tainor Bask

Age: 28

Height: 6, 1

Gender (if applicable): Male 

Appearance: Tall, with blond hair and blue-green eyes. He is handsome, with a strong jaw and skillfully styled hair. Fairly muscled, he is visibly Tailored to have four arms.

Tailored? Yes

Modifications: Two extra non-dominant arms, doubled up muscles

Describe alt appearance (if applicable): 5, 10 and a half, has dark skin and dreadlocks, but still looks quite sophisticated. 

Other Tailored aspects: Don't really understand this one.

House Affiliation: None, but he deals with the Blackwater and Shadowcastle gangs.

Backstory: Tainor Bask was born in one of the many clans outside of the civilizing influence of the Atrarian Empire. His family relocated to New Lere as the nation expanded outward, pushing their once important clan, town, and position of trader became obsolete. Tainor's mom died of sickness not long after their move, which caused his father to bury himself in his work. During this time, Tainor's brother got involved in some shady underground business and was killed. One of Tainor's sisters started learning to be a Tailor and broke all family ties. Tainor's other sister got married several years later and moved to a town outside of New Lere. She continued contact for a few years, but she stopped six years later for reasons unknown to Tainor. Tainor, who still wasn't quite old enough to work, began investigating his brother's murder. Tainor ended up killing them after becoming enraged when he revealed that he knew what the murderer had done. Tainor was then caught and taken to jail, where they then broke out. After some time, an underground Tailor captured Tainor and sold him to a wealthy member of the aristocracy. Tainor later became an errand boy for that man's daughter. It was during that time that Tainor gained their extra limbs in addition to the enhancements received from the rogue Tailor.  Taskis van Burough pulled some strings to clear Tainor's record so that no shade would be cast on him for having a servant with a record. The noble's daughter would later go on to learn to become a Tailor. She kept Tainor with her as essentially her manservant. While Saris learned how to Tailor, Tainor realized they had a natural talent for it. After learning a decent amount, they used it to disguise themselves as Saris' boyfriend, but when Tainor exited the building, Taskis forced him to return to his daughter's rooms to apologize for what he did. Thinking that he had been discovered, Tainor ran but was caught by the noble's bodyguard, who took him to Saris' rooms to apologize. He then realized that the man actually believed he were Saris' boyfriend. Tainor then apologized for some generic wrong before being allowed to leave. After leaving, Tainor went to look for his father only to find that the man had died of a combination of overwork and grief. He then lived in the underground for some time slowly moving up the ranks. Eventually, Tainor started smuggling goods using his knowledge of both trade and the underground as well as his enhancements to thrive. He is now at the top of the social ladder for smugglers because he was skilled at smuggling Mortal Thread. He supplied both the Blackwater gang and the Shadowcastle gang with Mortal Thread. Tainor is both concerned and happy because of the assasination plus theft because Blackwater gang hunting people down is good for Thread use, but he also heard that the Shadowcastle gang had made a new deal for Mortal Thread that he believes was with the assassin/thief.

Notes about Backstory:

The noble that Tainor worked for was one of the squeamish type and used synthetic arms on Tainor so both arms are slightly weaker and are essentially both non dominant arms.

Tainor's married sister is dead from a sickness that spread through her town.

Tainor's Tailor sister is very talented and has a pretty high position that will somehow be relevant to the plot.

Saris sen Borough and her boyfriend, who is also a Tailor, made up (mostly due to Tainor's apology) and are now one of the most influential couples in the city

 

 

Edited by The Unknown Order
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My character!

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Name: Teresa Klydorin

Age: 25

Height: 5'2"

Gender (if applicable): Female

Appearance: Medium-dark skin, frizzy black hair, faint freckles, and a perpetual grin. Looks younger than she is. 

Tailored? No

Skills: Highly trained in Tailoring and conventional medicine

House Affiliation: Currently applying for a job with the STA.

Backstory: 

Spoiler

Teresa is from Reneland, a small country to the south that was recently assimilated into the Empire. She's the oldest of 5 children - 3 sisters and one brother. A bright student, she was accepted into a prestigious medical program at Reneland's best university. However, she was rejected for the scholarship she applied for - leaving her with no way to pay tuition.

With all the wisdom of a desperate 18 year old, she decided not to tell her parents that she'd lost the scholarship. Instead, she tracked down a member of the local underground who she'd heard was willing to grant loans to just about anyone, a woman named Zywin Channing. Channing agreed to extend a loan, to be paid back with significant interest once Teresa had started her career. 

Deal struck, Teresa proceeded to excel at her studies, specializing in the use of Tailoring for medical procedures, especially in attempts to cure long-term illnesses. She was at the top of her class, and looking forward to an exciting career. That is, until Channing came to collect - far earlier than Teresa had anticipated. 

She was just out of grad school, and had no way to pay off the huge sum that the crime boss required. It was then that she began to realize just how out of her depth she was, as Channing's threats made it clear that she was far more powerful in the underground than just a simple loan shark. Teresa had no choice but to agree to Channing's demands, which were the following:

Teresa would work for Channing until it was determined that her debt was paid off (a worryingly unspecified amount of time). The assignment she was given was to gain a job at the STA, and use it to gain access to the head of the organization. She would then find a way to corner them and create a Split, which would be captured and taken to Channing. Until then, she'd have to covertly gather what information she could that would assist the crime lord in avoiding law enforcement. This was all given despite Teresa's protestations that she had no idea how to make a Split - or, for that matter, no idea how to kidnap someone or spy on an organization. Channing curtly told her that if she had no way to be useful, she'd have no reason to keep Teresa or her family alive.

So she moved to the city and began her application to the STA, terrifyingly aware of how in over her head she was.

 

 

Edited by Rushu42
Fixing the formatting
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Spoiler

Name: Thalise Zesh

Age: 30

Height: 5'5

Gender (if applicable): Female

Appearance: Blonde hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, hands and upper arms covered in scar tissue. Typically wears dark full length shirts and gloves to cover up her scars along with a long skirt.

Tailored? Yes

Modifications:

Describe alt appearance (if applicable): No full changes in appearance, but has access to darker hair and a few different eye colors.

Other Tailored aspects: A number of both sanctioned and unsactioned ones, most notably venom glands taken from a taipan and vocal chords and ears modified for echolocation, as well as reinforcing the bones in her hands and wrists.

House Affiliation: None officially, but has at least tacit connections within several houses.

Backstory: Thalise works as a spy and assassin for both the STA and Underground, operating exclusively for the highest bidder. Originally studying medicine and Tailoring at the New Lere Medical Institute, the death of her parents and the desire to continue her education left her in sever debt to a major crime lord, and she was forced to get involved in Underground dirty work, which she found she had a taste for. After several years work clearing her debt, she began to build enough of a name for herself in certain circles that she attracted clientele of a higher caliber. Leaving her former employer with  notice of her departure and a cup of tea laced with snake venom, she began running her own small operation out of a disused bookstore.

 

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Tainor looked around the room. Plenty of people here, pickpockets, nobles, healers, traders, and of course, gang members. The ring had a rather interesting fight going on, but the leader of Shadowcastle was already here, so enjoying the show was out of the question for now. He approached the bar to grab some drinks before going to the private booth that had been reserved by Ava Blaknic. With one hand Tainor reached into his jacket for money, with two more arms he pulled out a stool and with his final arm he signaled the bartender. He quickly ordered three drinks, paid, and pushed his stool back in before leaving the bar, pausing only to softly pet the sloth on his shoulder. When Tainor arrived at the booth, he closed the curtain and gently set the sloth on the table in front of Ava. "I know about the other deal." Throw a hard ball at her, see how she reacted. She raised her eyebrow, "What other deal, hm?" Tainor leaned back. "I'm going to say this straight. I get my Thread with words, not stealth, not arms, words. I talk to politicians and people like you every day, so I always look forward to interacting with Shadowcastle because you have the decency to be blunt, so cut to the chase. Why are you going through someone else?" 

"Honey-" 

"Cut. To. The. Chase."

Her demeanor changed in an instant. "Fine. I'm going through someone else for the same reason you are. Money."

"Finally caught on did you? Don't respond. I offer a better deal than any other smuggler in the city, and no smuggler outside can compete with us inner-city smugglers."

"That is doubly wrong. Our new one is both from outside the city and charges less. And as an added bonus, he doesn't deal with our biggest competitor."

"I've only given you business in the past out of respect to your father. I'm sorry to see it end like this." With that, Tainor left just in time to see the spectacular knockout punch.

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Thalise sat at a table near the center of the room, drumming her fingers against the table and checking her watch every few minutes as she waited for the agreed upon time. She'd found her contact already, of course, but it simply wasn't polite to begin before the proper time. She tried for what felt like the thousandth time to ignore the prickling at the back of her neck. Something felt oddly tense, more so than usual. This kind of job was usually a simple affair, but that didn't mean there wasn't danger involved. Eventually the watch's hand crept past the hour mark, and Thalise stood, moving quietly over to the designated meeting point. "I'm starting to get tired of this Wraith business," She murmured to herself. "Good for whoever's getting the Thread, but much more of this and it's going to start cutting into profit."

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Aight. Let's get posting...

"Something soft, please." Kleisha said, pressing a couple bills onto the counter.

The bartender turned around from polishing a glass (even though it looked perfectly fine to her), eyes widening for just a second out of surprise. His expression quickly melted away into a small grin, though. "Well, if it isn't the little gunslinger. Haven't seen you in awhile."

"Life's been busy as ever," She replied, matching his grin. "Was on a super dangerous mission."

"Were you now?" He filled her mug with a weak gin.

Kleisha took the drink. "Yeah. Walked around for two weeks straight and even shot a deer."

"Hear ya loud and clear, kiddo." The bartender set his elbows to the counter across from her. "You still looking for a big-time?"

Kleisha shrugged and swished her drink, eyes on the counter. "Can't say I am. Work's just work, I guess."

"Gotcha." He stood straight up again. "Well, if ya need anything... I'm right here. Serving drinks. As per the usual."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"And make sure you don't call Callen instead of me; that guy likes you too much."

Kleisha chuckled, then turned around to watch the fight. Looked like a couple newcomers; she didn't recognize either. They became background noise for her thoughts; the usual, really--deconstruction of reality and attempted (although failed) understanding of the meaning of life. She didn't get anywhere with that, so instead Kleisha kept thinking about sea creatures, contemplating the possibility of grafting herself with a bit of sea cucumber to grant her the ability to explode her guts out when startled.

Probably wouldn't be the healthiest decision. She concluded.

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          The open sky felt an infinity away as Czokla strode through the muck of the Underground. That was the way he preferred it- the sky was far too large, for his tastes. Who knew how many enemies could be hiding in it's endless horizon? No, he preferred down here, in the dredges of New Lere, where the furthest you could run was either to the end of dark alleyway or to your boss's hideout- two endpoints that were often not all that different, and yet one was usually far safer. The alternative, of course, was likely full of criminals. 
Czokla kept his eyes forward and back straight as he walked. On his feet he wore a set of army boots, a reasonable piece of attire with the small river of filthy water running down the narrow road. Above his ankles, however, he was clad in far less conventional clothing- a pair of dress pants coupled with a full business suit. Certainly, an odd sight down below, and likely to get one mugged in one of the aforementioned dark alleyways. Czokla, however, seemed just as unconcerned at this possibility as he did the liquid leaking from the ceiling, his fine clothing untouched due to the umbrella he was holding over his head.
          At this point anyone trailing Czokla would've lost him as he turned into the narrow crack between two houses and began to weave through these tiny backroads, barely large enough to give him a foot's space between the walls and his shoulders, and the tips of his umbrella scraped on the grimy stone leaving thin scars through the dirt. These spaces between spaces made for handy and mostly safe shortcuts, as they cut between roads and were uninhabited save for the occasional rat or beggar. Still, in the corpse of Old Lere, you had to be alert, even in these isolated crevices. You never knew what sort of bottom feeders roamed where they weren't supposed to, consuming the detritus from the rich city above, whether that be money, people, or worse. 
          Recently, however, those bottom feeders had been hunting something larger. One of their own had risen from the depths and taken multiple massive bites out of the sharks up above in their realm of light and sky, and now everyone, bottom feeder and shark alike, hunted for this impossibility of a man. The Wraith.
          Czokla found his way back to a street, if you could call it that. He turned left, where the path tilted downhill slightly bringing the flow of putrid water with it, down into the deeper parts of Old Lere. Fortunately, Czokla didn't have to follow the water far as he spotted his destination: stuck between an abandoned housing complex and a canal was a tiny, lit stone building, only slightly cleaner than the surrounding street. The large metal sign above the door read: OLD JOE'S COFFEE. He strode across the street, water splashing at his heels as he stepped up the pair of steps to the new wooden door, stark in contrast compared to the surrounding brickwork of the old city. He swept the door open, folded up his umbrella, and took a couple steps inside. The café was empty this late at night save for it's owner, an old, disheveled man, assumedly Old Joe himself. He was hunched over one of the tables, cleaning it as he closed for the night. As he hear the door open he stood straight and announced "We're closed." in a rough, scratchy voice before turning around to face Czokla. When he got a full look at the man, he stared suspiciously. Old Joe wasn't the brightest man around, but he could certainly tell this fancily dressed stranger was trouble.
"Look, stranger, if you're here to arrest me, just know you won't be able to pin anything on me. I own a legal, respectable business, and-"
"I have no interest in your crimes. I am Czkola Ahlstrom, and I am here to hire you." Czkola's voice was smooth, unwavering, yet still felt like a commander's- authoritative, unwilling to take any other response than "Yes, sir."
"Hire me for what? If you want a personal barista, look elsew"
"I am not here to play games, Mr. Jehrad. Your file states you're involved in half the fight clubs in the city. I require entrance to one of them, and do not have the time to trifle around with beggars and petty criminals to find out how to gain entrance to a specific one."
"My file, eh? Who are you, some sort of imperial crony?"
"That is unimportant. I will pay you fifty buttons to escort me to a specific club and give me entrance." He had walked closer to Joe, towering over him as he placed five blue buttons on the table in front of the man.
Joe raises an eyebrow. "How easily do you think I'm bought?
"One hundred buttons." He places another five blue buttons down.
"You really think I'm going to-"
"Two hundred buttons." This time a gold button is added to the pile of coinage.
Joe hesitates for a moment staring at the money, but just before he opens his mouth Czokla slams down another gold button.
"Three hundred buttons."
"Alright, alright, you've convinced me. Where is this club?"

Approximately ten minutes and another trip through the streets later, they reached a rather normal looking alleyway in the northwest side of the city. Joe confidently walked up to the man lurking in the darkness- presumably the doorkeep- and said some fray about wine and bottles to him. The pair then walked around the dumpster, past a large iron door and down a staircase before revealing it's true nature- a packed and rowdy bar, filled to the brim with the brightest, most polished scum Czokla had ever seen. 

What a perfect place for hunting.

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Stasia paid the bartender and took a tentative sip of her drink, hissing slightly at the hard bite of the liquor that burned her throat despite the seltzer water and lime. 
Hell’s teeth, she thought, grudgingly tipping the barkeep before weaving her way toward the little table near the far wall. This was veritae, unsanctioned hooch, far from the refined grain liquors common in the pleasure districts of the upper city. She’d developed a taste for it a few years back when she did a stint informing on a minor antique-smuggling ring down here, but it seemed that the last six months at that milquetoast accounting racket had softened her. 

Too many sweet drinks bought by sweet boys in kafta coats and silver cufflunks.  Her taste would just have to harden up again. Stasia took another sip, grimaced, and slid into the seat opposite Kurt’s contact.

The woman was as described: blonde, average-looking enough to be forgettable if it weren’t for her long gloves. Kurt’s instructions had advised Stasia to “buy her own drink”, which was sound, as Thalise Zesh had quite a penchant for spiking a drink with more than alcohol.

”White-eye sent me,” Stasia said, using Kurt‘s least-favorite and most-interesting epithet, which referred to a botched Tailoring that had left his right eye milky white and blind to all but rudimentary shapes. 

“Typical information channels are being watched and everyone’s buttoned up tight as a lord’s vault. No one wants to be caught out in a possible STA Inquiry, but it’s starting to look that way if the Wraith isn’t brought in soon. Heard anything that might have slipped past the usual nets?” 

@Fallapede

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"I obviously don't have as much information as I normally would, but I do have a few leads that you should find helpful. Before we get to that, however, there is another matter we need to discuss: payment. I'm willing to negotiate on the exact price, but you know the deal for working with me: half upfront, and at least a quarter of it in Thread."

Edited by Fallapede
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Stasia suppressed a sigh and nodded, slipping a stack out of one of her boots and setting it on the table.

Negotiate. Stasia rolled her eyes inwardly, though kept her face carefully blank. These independent types were all so bloody mercenary, and it showed. Lattice and Lattice didn’t need to haggle like some rug seller. That was the whole point of a Sanctioned House.

“Based on our most recent records, this is half of your going rate,” she tapped the money with one fingernail. “Plus extra for your discretion.” 

Discretion was implied - after all, it was bad for business if you became known as a snitch. But it never hurt to sweeten the deal.

”You’ll get the other half - including your Thread count - in twenty-four hours at the typical drop point. If your leads prove sound, we may consider putting you on contract - if that’s of interest.”

No one was moronic enough to walk around actually carrying Thread, especially in a place like this. Kurt had already arranged it at a small post box office in a residential district up in New Lere proper. 

Stasia settled back in her chair and took another sip of her drink. Already, the acid bite of the veritae tasted sweeter in her mouth. Somewhere behind her in the fighting pit, a man screamed as onlookers jeered and exchanged bets.

“Now that’s out of the way, shall we get down to it?”

@Fallapede

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