Seeking Bittertongue

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Shad
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Seeking Bittertongue

Postby Shad » Mon Oct 31, 2011 11:24 pm

Carla hadn't seen him for three weeks. Jimmy saw him two weeks ago, but he was just passing by. And Sean, unclear on the question, had happily discussed seeing Mrs. Bittertongue with Naiara three days ago (but maybe it was five because it was a day they had pumpkin soup so it could have been Friday or Sunday, he wasn't sure but the pumpkin soup was his favorite...). But not a single child in the masses of the Stormwind Orphanage had seen Bricu Bittertongue or knew anything relating to his mysterious disappearance.

Ah well. It'd been a long shot anyway; just the Boss casting a wide net and giving the poor druid something to do, right? Someone else would find something out, someone else would kick someone's ass, and he would patch up the heroes. That was how it always went. That was okay; at least something was still as it should be. The docks were quiet as he approached through the alley, the widening path between building and half-wall that kept the lake from seeping into City Hall's foundations. Yes, he was supposed to be walking home empty-handed with Felicia dreaming up a meaningless ditty on his shoulders. Even if he was returning to an empty house, at least--

The figure that emerged from the shadows probably meant to lurch out in front of him sooner; any later, in fact, and the elf would have fallen over him in his efforts to stop. But from the mildly glazed look in the assailant's eyes, Shad could only assume that he'd put forth his best reflexive efforts for the moment. "Cute kid," the human drawled as he unfurled himself between the druid and the dock. "Be a damned shame if she got hurt, wouldn' it, Tev?"

Scraping footsteps behind him indicated the location of an accomplice--Tev, presumably. Why hadn't he been more alert, noticed he was being followed? At least he was alert now, enough to hear the click of a blade leaving its sheath. "Sure would. Figger we can see she gets home safe, though."

"For a fee, 'course." The human blockade spread wide a show of corn-colored teeth and offered forth the hand that wasn't holding a weapon. "Fine gentleman like yourself can surely spare fifty gold for a little girl's life?"

Yes. He could have. And Shad reached for his pouch to do just that; where Felicia was concerned, cost was no issue, and his pride wasn't worth it. But there was a gasp and a most satisfying cracking noise before he realized that his other hand and the panther controlling it had very different plans. "You fuckers," Era growled as he stepped rapidly back into the corner, into the darkness, "picked the wrong fucking week for this."

The attacker-turned-victim whimpered, dropping his knife in favor of cradling his damaged hand; it was limp, the fingers splayed awkwardly above his twisted wrist. Tev gawked at it, stunned, before turning furious attention to the retreating druid. This would be the point at which a wiser, more tempered man would have realized that he'd made a grave mistake and potentially put a child in danger. Era was too busy glancing about to survey his surroundings. Felicia, who had begun to whimper in concert with the injured man, was swept from his shoulders and tucked away behind the low wall that guarded the stairs to Sandra Michelson's storehouse. "Stay right there sweetie, okay?" He offered a smile, but didn't reassure her that everything was going to be okay. For one, he didn't have the time, what with Tev's snarling approach. For two, it was bullshit, and he hated lying to the kids.

Tev came in fast--too fast for Era to get the nameless bear spirit to cooperate before he had to sweep his body out of the way of an outstretched dagger, and therefore plenty fast to have his own momentum used to slam himself into the wall. It dazed him, sure, but there was probably enough trace lotus in his bloodstream to keep him from feeling the pain for days; Era smelled it on his breath as he heaved on past. The same must have been true of the other man--Ralph, as the panther had mentally dubbed him--because no sooner had Tev squeaked against the stone than his companion was rising from the ground, blade in hand once more to charge like an angry bull elekk.

An ursine maw caught the rot-mouthed wonder about the knees and brought him down, though not without a bit of collateral damage that sent blood dripping down white fur. In a normal situation, the panther wouldn't have risked it; he'd've just taken his own form and dodged about while worrying the men to scraps of flesh. But Felicia's presence weighted him; he couldn't afford to let these assholes get to her, because he didn't doubt they'd cut her up and walk home grinning. He couldn't even afford, then, to sit on Ralph's face and properly suffocate him, not with Tev turning about and seeking his softer target.

Knees. Knees were such precious and fragile things, and they gave way so easily when caught from behind with a massive paw. Tev tumbled, and his knife reached out for purchase in the animal's side. It worked; his body didn't hit the ground. His head, on the other hand, was forced into it at high speed a moment later to the accompaniment of a very unhappy roar. "YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!" Era screamed, sweeping both men together for better handling. "DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH? I'M A WILDFIRE FUCKING RIDER! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

"HALT IN THE NAME OF THE KING!" Of course. Of course that would be the minute that the patrol sauntered up. Yet another thing that was still as it should be. He wondered briefly if this was the sort of thing that had happened to Bricu. Fucking conspiracy.

Era climbed slowly off of his apparent victims, paws turning to hands in the air despite the marked uptick in pain from his wounds. He flashed a winning grimace as he stood upright. "Everything's fine, officer," he managed. "I was just--"

"You're all coming with me!"

Golden eyes glanced aside to meet water-rimmed green. Felicia sniffled and whimpered. "Dada?"

Did two-year-olds get criminal records?

Fuck.
I don't know if you know this, but baby bears are precious and soft. --Mylune

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Re: Seeking Bittertongue

Postby Zve » Mon Oct 31, 2011 11:39 pm

Marrik Wilson rubbed his eyes as a heavy iron gate closed shut behind him. This was the third shift in a row his commander had "requested" that he work thanks to the lotus trade in Stormwind City. How many of these junkies had they processed today? A half dozen? Ten? At this rate they'd have to convert part of the Keep into extra holding space for these lowlifes.

On the note of lowlifes, Zevedron Bosch walked through the small door to the Stockade processing station. The station was large enough to accommodate perhaps three guards and whoever was being dragged to the holding cells--the newly arrived Zeve was hard to miss. Why he was well-dressed and strapped with a small boy to either side of his chest was a mystery Wilson didn't feel like trying to solve just now. The direct approach then: "What is it?"

Zeve flashed the guard a winning smile. "Oi, mate. Here to see a couple fellas."

"What, relatives? Family reunion, is it?" The guard eyed the two boys, then frowned at Zeve--Zeve who was still smiling.

"Nice, nice. No, rightly, m'here to advise a couple of my clients." Lotus-eaters who'd been taken in after brawling with Bricu Bittertongue. It had taken a while and some questions to a few friendly guards who appreciated a drink or three on the house courtesy of the Pig and Whistle, but he'd gotten two names: Lenny Mason and Collin Collinson.

"Clients." Despite having too little sleep and being stiff from sitting around in uniform too long, Wilson wasn't buying the lie.

"Aye. Zevedron Bosch, legal advocate."

"Got papers, Mr. Bosch?" This would be good, Wilson thought. He idly wondered if he had enough energy to throw this loon in prison with the lotus-heads for impersonating an officer of the court.

"Wouldn' be much of an advocate if'n I didn' carry papers with me, would I?" With that, he produced a set of hastily prepared forgeries. Besides the exceptional health benefits, Rider-ship also came with the advantage of access to scribes who could provide access to just about anywhere on the fly. Zevedron S. Bosch, they declared, Pro Bono Publico Legal Counsel and Attorney at Law.

Wilson looked over the papers, then directed a long, considering look at Zeve. "Why is it you've got children with you, Mr. Bosch?"

"Know? When you work for free, s'hard findin' a nanny what'll watch your boys as a regular."

"So you brought them to a prison."

"Captain, m'not at all worried with you an' your fellas here." Zeve gestured at the other two guards stationed in the room with a nod and a grin.

"Lieutenant."

"Right? Sorry 'bout that. Looked all captain-like, figure." Wilson folded the papers and returned them, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Zeve's grin widened.

"Who're your clients, Mr. Bosch?"

"Mason and Collinson."

Wilson consulted a heavy ledger, tapping it when he found the names. He muttered, "Eastern wing, second cell," then turned to call back to the control room: "Open it up. Escort to E-two." The heavy iron gate protested as it slid open again. Victory. And here Zeve had been prepared to list off a number of recent clients and cases and various bits of legal jargon. ‘Supero omnia’ would have to wait for another day, apparently.



Zeve was led to a large cell containing a number of prisoners, most of them in various states of twitchiness or huddled together. The last time Zeve had been here he'd been on the other side of these bars. The smells and sounds were familiar. He regretted having Heth and Junior with him, but lately he needed to be with them as much as possible if not for their sake than for his own. Besides, he wasn't worried about any of the Stockade population—if they'd been taken by the Guard, they wouldn't be much problem for a Rider.

"Mason! Collinson! Lawyer's here." Two men started and stumbled forward at the guard's call. Confused and shifty-eyed, the pair approached cautiously as Zeve grinned wolfishly in at them.

"Oi, fellas. Zevedron Bosch. Pleasure to meet you." He turned, nodding at the guard. "Mind givin' me an' my clients a bit of privacy, mate? Easier to talk openly with 'em when they're not feelin' pressed, eh?"

The guard eyed the lotus-heads and Zeve, but nodded and moved several paces off.

"Who're you?" Black teeth, bad breath, greasy hair--Zeve was reminded of his years on the Black Card. He’d known pirates with better hygiene than these two and made a personal note to never try lotus. If nothing else, he couldn’t afford to let his appearance go like that.

"Gave you my name a'ready, mate. Zeve Bosch. You Mason or Collinson?"

"Mason. Don' know you--what're you here for?" Collinson, smaller and more nervous looking than his companion, stayed back a few steps and kept his eyes down.

"Legal counsel. Understand you fellas got into a bit of trouble as a recent."

Mason sneered at him. "What gave it 'way? Us bein' here?"

Zeve's smile faded a bit and he nodded. "Aye, that was a part of it. Heard tell that you an' your friend Collinson here had a run in with a fella by the name of Bricu Bittertongue."

Collinson flinched at the name as if he’d been struck and Mason swallowed, scratching nervously at his black gums.
"What of it?"

"Recognize that name, Collin?" Zeve rubbed his nose, doing a poor job of hiding a grin. "Know who Bittertongue runs with? C'mere, mate, won' bite you."
Collinson approached. Two large bruises marked his face and dried blood still caked his nose and lower lip. This had been the one that had actually fought with Bittertongue, then. "A-aye. K-know who he is--I didn' know! I didn' know who 'e was, I swear it!"

Zeve lowered his voice, leaning forward toward the bars. "Know we don' rightly care for folks messin' with ours too, don' you?" As if to emphasize Zeve’s point, Heth chose that moment to practice his growling.

Mason groaned softly and Collinson shuddered. "Y-you're…"

"Aye. An’ one word of it’ll mean you’ll rather stay locked in here the rest of your addled lives than take two steps in the city." A Rider. And if a Rider could get to them here, where couldn't they get to them. "So, Collin. Lenny. Feel as your legal counsel, I ought to know everythin' what happened 'tween you an' this fella what you're 'lleged to have attacked. An' I'd be truthful if'n I was you."



About twenty minutes later Zeve signaled the guard. Bittertongue had been taken, but hadn't made it to the Stocks. If not the Stocks, then where? The lotus-heads had been no help there. "Think I got what I need, mate. 'Preciate the watch." He turned back to Mason and Collinson. "Fellas? M’not bein’ paid ‘nough for this. Good lu—mm. No such thing. Sorry ‘bout that." With that he followed his escort back to the processing station, a growling Heth and a drooling Junior getting his full attention.

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Illithias
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Re: Seeking Bittertongue

Postby Illithias » Tue Nov 01, 2011 6:35 am

Gulls wheeled high in the autumn air; this far from the Mage District they had the sky to themselves from the talking pigeons. Old Town murmured with the activity of the early afternoon, people in the street. The streets sloped down to the canals from the warren of alleyways in the heart of Old Town; streets widened, there was more activity. This was the part of Old Town Illithias called home.

She walked North Canal Laneway, leaving a wake of recognition behind her. The Riders were well known in this part of Stormwind, and the Half-Faced elf was especially memorable. She nodded to people as she passed by; street hawkers, housekeepers, the occasional Guard. Raised noise up ahead guided her, the sound of children yelling and playing, creating trouble. There were a lot of street kids in Old Town, some proper urchins, some just wayward latchkey kids. Most ran together in groups and gangs, most were known to Illi.

The kal'dorei recognised a few as she approached. It was a smaller gang, a handful led by a few older younglings. Illithias knew the older ones; she'd spent some time teaching them how to use a cosh to protect themselves from bigger people who might've seen them as an easy target. Yancy, the eldest, she'd started showing how to hold a knife without hurting himself. She figured he was the one in charge of this little coterie.

"Hoy, Yancy!" the elf called down the street.

The children spun at the sound. A good half of the eight or nine of them recognised the figure approaching them as the Half-Faced elf. Two of the youngest children ran.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Illithias raised her arms in the air as she neared. Yancy and the other children eyed her warily.

"What do you want, Half-Face?" Yancy got straight to the point. Illithias has come up close to the remaining street kids by this point; she rocked back on her heels and grinned lopsidedly with the good side of her face.

"Why, Yancy, I'd just like a little help. After all the help I've given you. Wouldn't you like to help the Riders?" Illithias looked amongst the children, meeting their eyes.

Dropping the named of the Riders had the desired effect. The Wildfires represented the apogee of achievement to an Old Town street urchin; realising that the tall, scarred elf talking to them was one of the Riders changed their reception to her immediately. They clamored for attention.

"Are you one of the Riders miss?"
"You're a night elf, right, aren't you?"
"Did you kill anyone?"
"You know the old dwarf right?"
"I like pie!"

Illithias raised her hands in the air again, the children's questioning dwindled down. Yancy pursed his lips and met her eyes.

"I'm here for a reason, younglings, I need some help. You know Bittertongue? Tall, red haired northron?"

The children nodded uniformly.

"He got in some trouble. Here in Old Town. Was wondering if you lot had heard or seen anything?"

The children exploded as each one tried to answer her question at once.

"I saw, I saw!"
"He was down this way, just over there!"
"They attacked him, there were seven of them!"
"With knives!"
"Swords!"
"One looked like a drayneye!"
"Then the Guard came!"
"ALL THE GUARDS!"
"And they took them away."
"ALL AWAY!"

Illithias forced herself to smile as she pinched the bridge of her nose. It was the exact same story, plus copious fantasy, as she had been hearing all day.

Sitting in the chair she favoured in the corner of the Pig and Whistle, Illithias evaluated what she had found out. Exactly Nether-damned nothing. Bitt- Bricu had ended up in a street fight with... someones. And then the Guard had come, and taken everyone away. Nothing especially illuminating. Illithias considered her next step, as she heard someone approach from behind. She looked over her shoulder; she didn't recognise the cadence of steps. The human walked past her to the chair opposite; tall, dark haired, smooth movement. She looked him up and down.

"Hnhhh. Swiftblade."
I am become Illithias, Destroyer of Worlds.

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Threnn
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Re: Seeking Bittertongue

Postby Threnn » Tue Nov 01, 2011 9:49 am

It was happening again.

Three times now -- and was three a magic number? Threnn could have sworn she’d heard Anna mention that power came in threes.

But there was no magic in this. Not the first two times, and not now.

The sinking feeling started around dinnertime, when she hadn’t heard his heavy tread on the stair, hadn’t heard the timbre of his voice as he called helloes to Kara and the others on his way through the common room. Hailing his buzzbox yielded only the static of a switched-off line.

Even Naiara seemed to notice that something was wrong. She tottered over to the window and peered out into the street, as though she might see Bricu making his way home through the swarm of Hallow’s End revelers. “Da?” she’d ask now and then, but it never was.

When the Cathedral bells rang nine and he still wasn’t home, Threnn scooped up her daughter and headed out in seach of answers.

She didn’t have to go very far at all. The Gilded Rose’s common room hushed as they Bittertongue women descended, twenty pairs of eyes trying simultaneously not to stare and to get a good gander. It was Kara who finally overcame her paralysis and rushed to Threnn’s side.

“Oh, Threnn! It’s so awful!”

At least I know he’s not dead. The sparkle in Kara’s eye was one born of good gossip, not tragedy. The serving girl liked Bricu enough that, if something terrible truly had befallen him, she’d be fainting or wailing as though it were her own husband come to harm. “What’s so awful?”

“They say Bricu’s been arrested! That--” her voice dropped to a hush “--that he got drunk and started a brawl.”

The words hit like a slap. He wouldn’t. There’s no reason for it.

But when did addiction ever care about reason?

A new shadow filled the doorway. What few murmurs had started up again fell back into their hush as Officer Pomeroy stepped into the light.

“Excuse me, Kara,” said Threnn. As she strode past Pomeroy, she snapped, “Outside.”

He followed her, left out of the Rose and along the cobbled street, but if he thought they were going to find a quiet place to chat, he was sorely mistaken. Threnn kept moving; Naiara rode silently on her hip, thumb in mouth, eyes wide. It was only when they turned the corner into the tunnel that joined the Trade District to the Mage Quarter that he twigged to Threnn’s intended destination. “He’s not there, Threnn.”

That stopped her. “He’s not in the Stocks?”

Pomeroy caught up to her. “We were taking him there, but we were... waylaid.”

“Who took him?”

“We don’t know.”

“Bawks,” whispered Naiara.

“‘s what I’m thinking, too.” Threnn met Pomeroy’s gaze and... waited. It was the look she gave to recruits who’d fucked up, to street urchins who knew they’d done something bad. Having a three-year-old had only made her all the more proficient at wielding it.

The Guardsman broke after ten seconds. “I swear to the Light, Threnn, I don’t know them. But the seals on their papers were official.”

“I seem to remember you being fooled by a fake badge Bricu was carrying a while back.”

He glared at her. She’d made that badge; she’d used his as the template. “These were real.”

“But you won’t say which part of His Majesty’s law they were enforcing. Which makes it Seven, then.” She about-faced, pointing her steps towards Old Town. Before she could stalk off, Pomeroy caught her by the shoulder.

“He wasn’t drinking,” he said quietly. “I know that’s the rumor, but I promise you he was stone sober.”

Threnn nodded, swallowing the lump that rose in her throat. “Thank you.”

He seemed to be on the brink of saying more, but in the end he merely nodded and let her go.

Relief and frustration battled within her as she made her way through the Trade District and into Old Town. The first time had been Maunt and the elf-bitch, working in concert. The second time, there’d been no trail to follow. Today, at least, there’d been witnesses. It gave her somewhere to start.

Shaw would have to grant her an audience. She’d sit in his tower and make a nuisance of himself until he let her husband free.

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Re: Seeking Bittertongue

Postby Bricu » Tue Nov 01, 2011 6:35 pm

(So much awesome)

"All this time you've played chess with me, you never once told me about these card games you and your lot were playing. Didn't you even think to ask me?" Braxton asked with a sneer. He sat across from Bricu. The two were separated by a series of wrought iron bars.

"Government Salary, squire. I didn't think yeh could afford the blinds," Bricu replied, "But if yeh want, we can play a hand now."

"That, sir, would be unseemly." Braxton shook his head. "I just have a few questions..."

"Same as yesterday?"

"Same vein." Braxton said. "Then we can discuss your obligations to the crown."

Bricu rubbed the back of his neck. "Questions? Terms? I didn't do a bloody thing but defend meself this time."

Braxton stared at Bricu, smiling all the while, "Then we shouldn't have to keep you that long, should we?"

Bricu said nothing. He pulled his deck of cards from his shirt pocket and started shuffling.
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Aelflaed
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Re: Seeking Bittertongue

Postby Aelflaed » Sat Nov 05, 2011 11:04 pm

Aelflaed sat across from Elizabeth Cross at the little breakfast table, in the tiny kitchen behind the Silver Shield. Her old landlady hadn't changed outward appearances in the last year, but everyone in Old Town was more cautious now, and the windows had better shutters with locks. After the cultists had been the elementals - and after the elementals things had gotten pretty tough with the proliferation of lotus-addicted thugs.

Tea steamed.

"It's good to see you, Aely - you look well. Brian said you'd stopped in looking for me, and I heard about the kerfluffle with Bricu, what's the trouble?"

"Well..." Aely grinned a little. "I ken ye've a pin on everythin' wha' happens in this place, e'en down to knowin' if Sevens involved, so I figure if anyone's got news, it'd be ye."

Bess smiled. "Well, I do seem to be easy for folks to talk at, if that's what you mean."

"Yeh, exactly. I'm still tryin' t' figure what's goin' on wi' Bricu an' Haemon endin' up... well, missin'. I ken it's Sevens, but I dinna ken why, unless it's th' Riders tryin' t' look out fir Old Town against th' druggies?"

"Well, you've got about all the news I do on that front - they don't like people messing in their business, especially with the one they call the Angel."

Aely grimaced. "Aye, that's a title 's been bandied 'bout. Ken anyone's got connections to it tha's tryin' t' do business as well, air is th' whole mess underground?"

"Not outright." She set down her tea. "Madeleine Hunter still takes the Purple stuff as a tincture to help with her back, but she's done that for years and isn't likely to stop, nor is she likely to be selling it - she needs it too badly and she gets it as upfront as you can get it, from an herbalist who also does poisons. The garden variety lotus heads are after that weird distillate of Black that's been the hot new thing in brain destroying chemicals for the last year or so. I don't push too close though, for the same reason as Bricu and Shad are discovering. Those folks ain't nice."

Aely dug in her pocket and produced her reading glasses and a notebook, opening it to jot down a few notes about the different types of recreational lotus.

"Reading glasses?" Bess nudged at the glasses gently. "That's not something I remember."

"'S new, an' bugger all annyoing. Crusade's got me workin' paper pushin', an' after a long day I canna see th' end ay my nose. So I wear specs."

"Seems a waste, putting you on clerical duty."

Aely huffed into her tea, fogging up the lenses. "Aye... aye it does."
[5.OOC] Beltar: Hammer of What The Fuck Were You Thinking

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Shaurria
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Re: Seeking Bittertongue

Postby Shaurria » Sat Nov 05, 2011 11:53 pm

The scent trail led to a grate set low in the Mage District wall. Pitch sniffed long and hard at the ground, making certain of where the trail led, before he finally went to examine the grate. He barely heard Bricu's motorbike start up again and move off, as the paladin headed for his home.

He had to go elf in order to move the grate, then he slipped through, pulling it shut again behind him, just in case. He returned to his cat form, picked up the thread of Bricu's scent, and padded down the tunnel. Kal'dorei night vision combined with his cat eyes allowed him to see in the darkness easily. The tunnel smelled musty, but had a "used" feel. It ran ahead of him for several hundred feet before he came to the first intersection.

Pitch paused and stared down each of the new tunnels for a moment, sniffing the air. The faint scent of humans reached him from one, and he wanted to explore them both, but on the other hand... Bricu's scent trail still went straight ahead, so after a brief debate Pitch continued on his way. He had a job to do, and he could always backtrack later.

He passed two more intersections, but Bricu's trail never left the main tunnel, so neither did Pitch. The tang of magic in the trail was getting stronger, however, and he wondered where exactly he was going to end up. Then he came to the door.

It was fairly unassuming, as doors went, but Pitch felt the faint crackle of warding magic in his whiskers as he approached. He stopped a safe distance away and studied the door, faintly regretting his own inability with magic. The tunnel was swept clear; there wasn't even a piece of trash to toss at the door, to try and trigger the ward that way. Finally Pitch left his cat form, then took a deep breath, sent a silent apology to Lark in case things went wrong, and touched the door.

Nothing happened, which was perhaps more worrying than if there'd been an explosion. The ward simply flared slightly, then faded, leaving the door free to open. Pitch wasted no time in searching for the latch, but the door didn't seem to have one. He muttered a curse under his breath, then started feeling around the edges for anything that would open the door. Seconds ticked by, and Pitch's imagination supplied him with various scenes of guards coming down on him, alerted by the ward. "Oh, by Ursol's left-"

Snick. Something gave under his questing fingers, and the door swung toward him, opening about an inch. Pitch let out his breath as quietly as he could, then shifted back to cat and warily poked his nose out. He was greeted by the scent of magic so strong it felt like a slap in his nostrils, and when he peered out he was confronted by a wall of pulsing green.

It took him a moment to realize he was behind the portal in the Mage Tower. A cautious sniff proved there was no one else in the room, so he eased out of the hole in the wall to look around. The teachers and portal masters all appeared to have gone to bed, and there was no trace of anyone else, so after a brief inspection Pitch slipped back into the tunnel.

He now knew where the Sevens had brought Bricu from, so it seemed like a good time to go back and explore those side tunnels. He trotted back down into the darkness.

* * * * *

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Pitch watched warily from the shadows as a pair of guards squinted down the tunnel. Their voices echoed faintly down to his ears.

"Are you certain you saw something? It might've just been a rat."

"Pfah. Rats aren't three feet tall with glowy eyes. I'm telling you there's something there."

Three feet tall? Pitch didn't know whether to laugh or growl, but knew better than to do either. He held his tongue and waited for their next move.

"Well, I don't see it." The first guard spat, then turned back to his post. "If you're so frightened of being down here, why don't you go up to Gallina's and help yourself to the wine?" He gestured toward the door they guarded with his hand crossbow.

Gallina's? Well, at least he had a rough idea where he was now. As the second guard returned to his post and the two continued their bickering, he turned and slipped back down the way he had come.

The next door he came to was also guarded, so he didn't even try to get close. The one beyond that looked promising, however, with the tunnel ending at an unguarded, tiny stairwell. The rickety steps- more ladder, really- led up to another hidden door, which led to...

Cool night air hit his nose, although his view was blocked by a stack of crates. No matter. Pitch marked the place in his mind and continued on.

The next tunnel he found was a long one, ending at a stout wooden door guarded by no less than five men. Pitch gave a frustrated huff and turned to go back.

"What was that?"

He froze as the voice rang out, then heavy footsteps started heading in his direction. Without looking back, Pitch quickly slunk down the tunnel toward the nearest branch-off, but the persistent guard stayed on his heels, followed by at least one of the others. He reached the crossing tunnel just ahead of their torchlight and ducked in, his black fur melting into the shadows. He shut his eyes to hide their glow, tracking the guards by scent and sound.

"It was probably nothing. We would have found something by now." Yes, listen to your buddy, Pitch thought, but the leading pair of boots kept coming closer, bringing the torchlight with them.

"You know what Shaw will do if anything gets into the Keep," the first guard replied harshly. "I'm not going back til I'm sure." The Keep! No wonder they were jumpy. Pitch held his breath, his muscles tensing involuntarily as the footsteps came closer; five yards, then three. Then they were right on top of him, and Pitch waited for the shout of discovery, preparing to dash out and try for that door he had found earlier...

Then the boots were retreating back down the tunnel, the other guard cracking jokes to the first about "dedication to duty," and Pitch slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. He waited until he heard nothing from the guards, then cautiously made his way back to the unguarded door.

It exited out into an alcove, the door hidden from the outside by the stack of crates. Pitch made sure to replace the crates exactly the way they had been once he was outside, then took a moment to get his bearings. He quickly recognized the Cathedral looming up nearby, and fixed the door's location in his memory, in case any of the Riders wanted to see where it was. Then he shifted to a bird and made his tired way home. Maybe Lark would still be up, waiting for him.
Will you carry me down the aisle that final day
With your tears and cold hands shaking from the weight
When you lower me down beneath that sky of gray
Let the rain fall down and wash away your pain

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Loreli
Posts: 374
Joined: Wed Jan 20, 2010 1:35 pm
Location: Tacoma, WA
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Re: Seeking Bittertongue

Postby Loreli » Tue Nov 22, 2011 2:09 am

((Better late than never I hope.. my addition to this is now up here! http://www.aodstudios.com/motives/ ))
"A little extra DPS never killed anyon... Oh wait."
"Still alive, I see. Clearly you're not trying hard enough."


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