"The Lounge it is then. Thanks, Rook." As always, the thanks sounds sincere when it comes from Tain. Eye contact is made, a hint of a smile just barely tugs at the corners of his mouth, the works come with a businesslike nod. "Haven mention what he needed with her?"
Tain, their destination now known to his comrades, lets one of them take the lead on the way across the room. His pace slows, then stops entirely, his voice lowers just a bit. A wry half-grin grin forms on his usually dour features, "We don't want to interrupt anything if it's only been a half hour since he went looking for her, do we?"
Rook's not the youngest and most impressionable Ancient in the room, but Tain knows his own reputation and the respect he's earned from most of the gang. It's the subtle cues, the little things, like the fact he'd stopped walking just to talk to him, or the fact he'd cracked a joke at all, that bought loyalty from the rookie gangers. And depending on how things went upstairs, it might be in their best interest to not have raised a bunch of suspicion by striding like a trio of grim reapers after their lieutenant.
Sometimes Tain can't help but work someone to his side, socially. You could say it's in his blood, blame it on the nature of his magic, or just call it a nobleman's habit.
Full Version: The Ancients
Rook grins No he didn't. Hope it wasn't that though. Vixen'd eat 'em alive. He glances at his chrono. Hehee... probably finished him by now.
Rook grins No he didn't. Hope it wasn't that though. Vixen'd eat 'em alive. He glances at his chrono. Hehee... probably finished him by now.
Casting a quick glance in Tain's direction as the elf falls behind, Claymore dismisses the pleasantries and heads directly for the stairs to the third level.
"Thanks for the heads up. See you," Tain gives the younger Ancient a clap on the shoulder, then strides off to catch up with the gunslinger and mage.
Aero/Claymore/Tain - Tues, April 1st - 22:57 - Tarislar- The Squat/3rd Floor Lounge
Coming to the third floor, the three still dripping Ancients come into a a room filled with talk and games, Ancients whiling away the hours while it's to wet out to "go out and play". A quick look around easily spots Vixen's pink head, who notices them shortly after. She stands as they walk into the lounge, headed their way.
Off to the side, they also spot the hunkered form of Haven the mechanic, leaning over a table and busily punching away at the AR display on his commlink, apparently hard at work.
Knowledge Test - Ancients - post OOC or in Spoiler along with posts
Vixen strides up the the three new arrivals, looking at ease, but very pleased to see them as she swaggers up. She tugs on the folds of Claymore's jacket familiarly, smiling at the taller elf. Glad too see you made it. What took you so long?
Coming to the third floor, the three still dripping Ancients come into a a room filled with talk and games, Ancients whiling away the hours while it's to wet out to "go out and play". A quick look around easily spots Vixen's pink head, who notices them shortly after. She stands as they walk into the lounge, headed their way.
Off to the side, they also spot the hunkered form of Haven the mechanic, leaning over a table and busily punching away at the AR display on his commlink, apparently hard at work.
Knowledge Test - Ancients - post OOC or in Spoiler along with posts
Vixen strides up the the three new arrivals, looking at ease, but very pleased to see them as she swaggers up. She tugs on the folds of Claymore's jacket familiarly, smiling at the taller elf. Glad too see you made it. What took you so long?
"Evening, Vixen." He knows he's not the one she's talking to, but he doesn't particularly care. He was on the list of folks told to wait for her earlier this evening. He was on the list of folks nail-bombed and ambushed by trogs as a result. He's, as such, on the list of folks who'll say hello to her now that they've got eyes-on, if he damned well feels like it, even if Claymore's the one getting the cuddle.
The billion nuyen question, of course, was whether she was being coy and flirtatious to hide the fact she'd tried to get the three of the killed or not. Tain hated billion nuyen questions like that.
The billion nuyen question, of course, was whether she was being coy and flirtatious to hide the fact she'd tried to get the three of the killed or not. Tain hated billion nuyen questions like that.
Vixen turns from Claymore, giving him a pat, looking at Tain.
Tain. There's nothng flirtatious in her voice when she says his name. Her tone is more a one of mutual respect. [/color=salmon]Good to see you.[/color]
Con tests to not give anything away "keeping a straight face" - Tain, Claymore, Aero
It looks like you three have had a busy night. Aero.[/color] She inclines her head to the queit mage as well.
Well since you're all here, no point in standing around. Let's get down to business. Haven!
She turns her attention towards the mechanic who looks up as she calls his name. She gives the head jerk that says "come on" and turns down the hall, looking over her shoulder for the others to follow.
Tain. There's nothng flirtatious in her voice when she says his name. Her tone is more a one of mutual respect. [/color=salmon]Good to see you.[/color]
Con tests to not give anything away "keeping a straight face" - Tain, Claymore, Aero
It looks like you three have had a busy night. Aero.[/color] She inclines her head to the queit mage as well.
Well since you're all here, no point in standing around. Let's get down to business. Haven!
She turns her attention towards the mechanic who looks up as she calls his name. She gives the head jerk that says "come on" and turns down the hall, looking over her shoulder for the others to follow.
Claymore's eyes narrow unconsciously when he first catches sight of Sting's flunky, but he struggles to control himself, managing to succeed just before the pink-haired elf catches sight of him.
He silently watches Vixen approach, and is caught quite by surprise at her overly familiar greeting. Again battling to keep his tumultuous emotions from showing, he hesitates for just a moment in answering her question, only to hear Tain speak up as he is about to offer an explanation. Claymore waits for a second or two, then takes a breath to yet again offer an excuse, only to be cut off once more, this time by Vixen herself.
Shrugging his shoulders, he turns and silently follows the elf down the hall.
He silently watches Vixen approach, and is caught quite by surprise at her overly familiar greeting. Again battling to keep his tumultuous emotions from showing, he hesitates for just a moment in answering her question, only to hear Tain speak up as he is about to offer an explanation. Claymore waits for a second or two, then takes a breath to yet again offer an excuse, only to be cut off once more, this time by Vixen herself.
Shrugging his shoulders, he turns and silently follows the elf down the hall.
[ Spoiler ]
Haven - Tues, April 1st - 22:57 - Tarislar- The Squat/3rd Floor Lounge
Hearing his name yelled across the room, Haven jerks, startled, out of his AR reverie. Frowning slightly at the dispassionate tone after all her friendliness earlier, Haven stands up and follows the four other elves down the hall.
Hearing his name yelled across the room, Haven jerks, startled, out of his AR reverie. Frowning slightly at the dispassionate tone after all her friendliness earlier, Haven stands up and follows the four other elves down the hall.
"'Busy' is one word for it," he says with just a bit of a smile. The flashing of teeth should give him away, but -- distasteful as he finds lying -- he knows how to conceal his emotions. Right that second he's remembering the cold ball that appeared in the pit of his gut when a troll threw a bomb at him, while not many folks besides Vixen knew where he could be found.
Truth be told, the only thing keeping him from drawing steel and accusing her openly has nothing to do with the crowd of Ancients who are just as likely to back her play as his... it's that he likes to think most members of his gang are smarter than she'd have to be to set them up so sloppily, and trust trogs to do her dirty work. None of that shows on his face, though, as he quirks his eyebrows inquisitively towards Haven, pauses a half-tick to let the mechanic catch up to them, then follows Vixen down her chosen hallway.
Someplace quiet would make the coming conversation easier.
Truth be told, the only thing keeping him from drawing steel and accusing her openly has nothing to do with the crowd of Ancients who are just as likely to back her play as his... it's that he likes to think most members of his gang are smarter than she'd have to be to set them up so sloppily, and trust trogs to do her dirty work. None of that shows on his face, though, as he quirks his eyebrows inquisitively towards Haven, pauses a half-tick to let the mechanic catch up to them, then follows Vixen down her chosen hallway.
Someplace quiet would make the coming conversation easier.
[ Spoiler ]
Aero/Claymore/Haven/Tain - Tues, April 1st - 22:57 - Tarislar- The Squat/3rd Floor - Meeting Room
The Room Vixen chooses is a large conference room protected by a high end maglock, uncommon enough in the Squat. The room it's self is enough to impart the seriousness of what ever Vixen has going on, fitting the image of a corp boardroom, or, with the lights lower as they are now, a suitable war room. Vixen walks to the far end of the table turning to the small group assembling around it. She favors Haven with a smile as he sits, then her eyes set on Tain, then Claymore, the quiet Aero seeming to slide in almost unobserved. She waits until everyone is more or less settled, sitting or not, and speaks. Her voice is clear and calm, very sure of her self and what she has to say.
The information we will be discussing does not leave this room or this company, on your honor.
I've asked you together on behalf of Sting, who has a very sensitive task she needs performed. I've chosen each of you for certain reasons, both your talents and personalities. You're all very skilled at what you do, and i believe together, you'll be able to accomplish what the Ancients need done.
She only pauses for a moment, her tone more frank than flattering.
We need a small group to slip passed the Portland border and retrieve an information disc from a decker that's been working for Sting. He's not one of us, but he's skilled, and has been very loyal to us in the past. The information he carries is sensitive, both in it's nature, and in time. Sting needs a small, but very skilled group, because this decker believes that his intrusion into a system on behalf of Sting was detected, and that he is now being actively hunted. It goes without saying that whom ever may be hunting him will be equally skilled, and on their home ground. I can't say whether we're talking Paladins or spirits forbid Ghosts, but both are a possibility.
I know you aren't the type to mince words with. I've watched each of you, and I know what you're capable of. I also know you haven't had much in the ways of responsiblities one way or the other lately, and I believe that I know why. I'm giving you a chance to prove yourselves, and accomplish a task for the Ancients of extreme importance. I know you'll have questions, and I'll answer what I can. What I need to know is, are you up for it?
She looks around the table, looking each of the assembled in the eye. Trust her or not, the blue eyed slitch never flinches when looking in the eyes of cold, hard killers.
The Room Vixen chooses is a large conference room protected by a high end maglock, uncommon enough in the Squat. The room it's self is enough to impart the seriousness of what ever Vixen has going on, fitting the image of a corp boardroom, or, with the lights lower as they are now, a suitable war room. Vixen walks to the far end of the table turning to the small group assembling around it. She favors Haven with a smile as he sits, then her eyes set on Tain, then Claymore, the quiet Aero seeming to slide in almost unobserved. She waits until everyone is more or less settled, sitting or not, and speaks. Her voice is clear and calm, very sure of her self and what she has to say.
The information we will be discussing does not leave this room or this company, on your honor.
I've asked you together on behalf of Sting, who has a very sensitive task she needs performed. I've chosen each of you for certain reasons, both your talents and personalities. You're all very skilled at what you do, and i believe together, you'll be able to accomplish what the Ancients need done.
She only pauses for a moment, her tone more frank than flattering.
We need a small group to slip passed the Portland border and retrieve an information disc from a decker that's been working for Sting. He's not one of us, but he's skilled, and has been very loyal to us in the past. The information he carries is sensitive, both in it's nature, and in time. Sting needs a small, but very skilled group, because this decker believes that his intrusion into a system on behalf of Sting was detected, and that he is now being actively hunted. It goes without saying that whom ever may be hunting him will be equally skilled, and on their home ground. I can't say whether we're talking Paladins or spirits forbid Ghosts, but both are a possibility.
I know you aren't the type to mince words with. I've watched each of you, and I know what you're capable of. I also know you haven't had much in the ways of responsiblities one way or the other lately, and I believe that I know why. I'm giving you a chance to prove yourselves, and accomplish a task for the Ancients of extreme importance. I know you'll have questions, and I'll answer what I can. What I need to know is, are you up for it?
She looks around the table, looking each of the assembled in the eye. Trust her or not, the blue eyed slitch never flinches when looking in the eyes of cold, hard killers.
Claymore stands, his back to the wall right next to the conference room's exit. His eyes never leave the pink-hared elf as she goes through her spiel, his mind struggling to find a some kind of logical connection between this new 'assignment' and the ambush at the coffee shop. Already fed up with the night's events. by the time Vixen asks her question, the elven ganger has reached the end of his patience.
"Ain't speakin' fer anyone else, but the job's chill. I jus' need t' know one thing first, before we get down t' details." The elf pauses for only a moment, quickly glancing at the two other Ancients involved in the Spike's attack, but takes a breath and continues on before anyone has a chance to interrupt. "I need t' know if you had anything t' do with what happened at Lulu's earlier tonight."
The gunslinger, his eyebrows raised inquiringly, body tense and ready for anything despite his seemingly relaxed stance, stares at Sting's lacker, waiting for a response.
"Ain't speakin' fer anyone else, but the job's chill. I jus' need t' know one thing first, before we get down t' details." The elf pauses for only a moment, quickly glancing at the two other Ancients involved in the Spike's attack, but takes a breath and continues on before anyone has a chance to interrupt. "I need t' know if you had anything t' do with what happened at Lulu's earlier tonight."
The gunslinger, his eyebrows raised inquiringly, body tense and ready for anything despite his seemingly relaxed stance, stares at Sting's lacker, waiting for a response.
Tain isn't about to interrupt. Rather, he'd been about to ask the question himself. He stands, apparently as relaxed and comfortable as he ever is, not sitting but rather leaning casually against the wall. His thumbs are tucked in his belt, hands...purely coincidentally, I'm sure... scant inches from either blade or pistol, whichever a wrong answer might require.
Vixen nods. Of course I did. I had to know you were up for it. I'd think you Clay, of all people, would be thanking me for delivering you a half dozen new trophies. I admit that I hadn't considered a pipe bomb, and for that I owe you. But I had my reasons. She's on guard, tense but remaining in casual posture.
Claymore actually flinches when the slitch admits her involvement, his eyes widening momentarily in surprise, his fingers twitching minutely closer to the Warhawk in his belt. At the mention of trophies though, his hand moves unconsciously to reassuringly pat the pocket containing his recently-acquired treasures. Other than that, the elf remains stock still, his emerald eyes sparkling as he silently stares daggers at Vixen.
"Spikes aren't Ghosts or Paladins. It was a stupid, worthless, move. You don't test someone's ability to pull off a stealth-snatch against the Tir by throwing them in a meat grinder full of Trogs, any more than you can tell who'll win a bike race by pitting them against one another in a foot race. It's stupid. Wasteful. Sloppy. Tain's voice is taut with anger, bordering on rage. The insolence of it, handing your comrades to their lessers, simply as a test... "We didn't do anything against those Spikes we haven't all done for the Ancients dozens of times before. All you did was invite our worst enemies to ambush us, needlessly. Innocents -- non-elves, but not hostiles, either -- died for no reason."
"You lied to those who you ask to trust you now, who were supposed to trust you in the past, and who you expect to trust you in the future." Tain isn't leaning against the wall any more, or pretending to be casual about his scorn. His arms are at his sides and it's not hard to see the only thing keeping him from taking a swing is Vixen's rank, which he's not certain she deserves. She does not lead like Gryphon leads. "The next time you want to see if I'm 'up for it,' you can draw steel on me yourself."
"You lied to those who you ask to trust you now, who were supposed to trust you in the past, and who you expect to trust you in the future." Tain isn't leaning against the wall any more, or pretending to be casual about his scorn. His arms are at his sides and it's not hard to see the only thing keeping him from taking a swing is Vixen's rank, which he's not certain she deserves. She does not lead like Gryphon leads. "The next time you want to see if I'm 'up for it,' you can draw steel on me yourself."
Haven was mostly half listening to the conversation up to this point, waiting for new data on the mission having already agreed to move on with the job and so it takes him a moment to realize just what Claymore asked. What exactly happened at Lulu's? Holy freaking hells, a trog ambush? Vixen set this up? What the hell? I've heard of tests but... damn. Haven stands up and backs away from the table, obviously very disturbed by this rift in the family and by this...betrayal.
" Freaking gods, Vixen, what the hell? You sent trogs after brothers? What the fuck were you thinking?!" Haven starts to pace, agitated, and continues "I know there are always frictions, but we have ways of handling things in house. Gods! Not only was this not a challenge, but you didn't even at least use other Ancients. You contracted our enemies! You made a contract with the enemy and freaking gave up your family... I.. I can't even conceive of what you were thinking! What would drive you to this? There are tests, Vixen, and there are tests. Conspiring with our mortal enemies and helping them ambush the family is not a test. It is a betrayal of the worst sort." As he spits out the word, Haven's face twists with a bitterness and loss that is almost heartbreaking to see as memories of his family and their villainous end come swirling to the forefront of his mind. Even though he wasn't technically involved, the Ancients are his family and this just brings all the old grief and fear back in full force for the first time in quite awhile. Haven advances on Vixen slightly and pulls himself to a stop, the old feeling clawing it's way through his brain and body a small, insane, smile working it's way onto his features." How could you, Vixen? HOW?! What do you have to say for yourself?! And don't think we will be put off by some offhand answer about tests."
Having worked his way around to face Vixen with the others at his back, Haven strikes a belligerent stance and is obviously waiting for an answer.
" Freaking gods, Vixen, what the hell? You sent trogs after brothers? What the fuck were you thinking?!" Haven starts to pace, agitated, and continues "I know there are always frictions, but we have ways of handling things in house. Gods! Not only was this not a challenge, but you didn't even at least use other Ancients. You contracted our enemies! You made a contract with the enemy and freaking gave up your family... I.. I can't even conceive of what you were thinking! What would drive you to this? There are tests, Vixen, and there are tests. Conspiring with our mortal enemies and helping them ambush the family is not a test. It is a betrayal of the worst sort." As he spits out the word, Haven's face twists with a bitterness and loss that is almost heartbreaking to see as memories of his family and their villainous end come swirling to the forefront of his mind. Even though he wasn't technically involved, the Ancients are his family and this just brings all the old grief and fear back in full force for the first time in quite awhile. Haven advances on Vixen slightly and pulls himself to a stop, the old feeling clawing it's way through his brain and body a small, insane, smile working it's way onto his features." How could you, Vixen? HOW?! What do you have to say for yourself?! And don't think we will be put off by some offhand answer about tests."
Having worked his way around to face Vixen with the others at his back, Haven strikes a belligerent stance and is obviously waiting for an answer.
Vixen stands her ground, no longer bothering with 'casual' as everyone teeters on the brink of violence. Haven, sit.
I had to see how you reacted to the unexpected. I expected no serious harm to you, and I'm not surprised to see you all here only two hours later with only scrapes to show for your encounter. You've each been chosen for a reason, and you're each also out of practice. Sting needs this mission to succeed. Vixen's tone is level as she speaks, but her eyes no close slightly as she turns a glare towards Haven.
Haven, believe me, if I'd intended actual harm on you, I wouldn't use the trogs. Her eyes trace to Tain. I'm very capable of taking care of things myself.
Calming slightly, glaring less, she continues. No more tests, no deceptions. I'm aware that I set you up, and that I owe each of you. I knew that going in. But the task still remains. Whether or not you like me is irrelivant.
I had to see how you reacted to the unexpected. I expected no serious harm to you, and I'm not surprised to see you all here only two hours later with only scrapes to show for your encounter. You've each been chosen for a reason, and you're each also out of practice. Sting needs this mission to succeed. Vixen's tone is level as she speaks, but her eyes no close slightly as she turns a glare towards Haven.
Haven, believe me, if I'd intended actual harm on you, I wouldn't use the trogs. Her eyes trace to Tain. I'm very capable of taking care of things myself.
Calming slightly, glaring less, she continues. No more tests, no deceptions. I'm aware that I set you up, and that I owe each of you. I knew that going in. But the task still remains. Whether or not you like me is irrelivant.
Nodding and smiling to the gangers as they head through the doss, Aero's thoughts are going a mile a minute in the run up to the meet.
Should I keep this spell up? Sure people'll notice but.... frag there's the chica.... Looking good and unruffled as ever, well if she did set up the hit she's got cahoonas
Nodding, and smiling to Vixen as he sits he listens to her speil taking it in and making quick notes on his 'link, until Claymore speaks and then he face frosts over at her reply and is glad his magic is still making everything move nice and slow for him.
You set a trog hit on us? And now you want our help? Let's get this clear I'll do the job but it's because I'm loyal to this gang, to my brothers and sisters.
Then focusing he growls out Timeframe for the pickup?
Rolls and stuff
Should I keep this spell up? Sure people'll notice but.... frag there's the chica.... Looking good and unruffled as ever, well if she did set up the hit she's got cahoonas
Nodding, and smiling to Vixen as he sits he listens to her speil taking it in and making quick notes on his 'link, until Claymore speaks and then he face frosts over at her reply and is glad his magic is still making everything move nice and slow for him.
You set a trog hit on us? And now you want our help? Let's get this clear I'll do the job but it's because I'm loyal to this gang, to my brothers and sisters.
Then focusing he growls out Timeframe for the pickup?
Rolls and stuff
[ Spoiler ]
Eyes still flashing green sparks of anger, Claymore folds his arms across his chest and clenches his teeth as he nods once to the pink-haired elf.
"I guess I'll let it chill fer now, but I ain't gonna be forgettin'. Be sure that this ain't the end of the matter. Not by a longshot."
The gunslinger takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself in order to concentrate on the situation at hand. His shoulders drop ever so slightly as some of the tension drains from his body.
"So, what's the scan on this mission?"
"I guess I'll let it chill fer now, but I ain't gonna be forgettin'. Be sure that this ain't the end of the matter. Not by a longshot."
The gunslinger takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself in order to concentrate on the situation at hand. His shoulders drop ever so slightly as some of the tension drains from his body.
"So, what's the scan on this mission?"
Vixen waits a moment, giving some time for anyone who cares to to let the tension ease a couple of degrees.
The decker's name is Seamus. He's human, lives in Portland, has been doing 'trix work for the Ancients for years. He's not nova hot, but he's got skill, and he's consistantly come through. We needed him to do a system intrusion yesterday, pull some intel we needed out of someone's personal link. From what we've heard, he got the intel, but he got hit on his way out. We;ve got some friends down there that checked in on him, and from the sound of it, he's suddenly developed an unreasoning fear of the matrix. So now we need to physically pick up his data package.
Sting needs the package within two days. Portland isn't a far drive, but that gives you a little extra time to figure out how you want to get across the border and back. I can also put you in contact with the local Ancients chapter, through a brother named Narse. He's met Seamus in the meat once, and he knows the area.
Part of the problem is that after our contact met with Seamus, he hasn't been seen since. He managed a phone call this morning for about thrity second before he couldn't take it anymore and disconnected, so we know he's still alive. But people are going to be looking for him. We need to find him first.
The decker's name is Seamus. He's human, lives in Portland, has been doing 'trix work for the Ancients for years. He's not nova hot, but he's got skill, and he's consistantly come through. We needed him to do a system intrusion yesterday, pull some intel we needed out of someone's personal link. From what we've heard, he got the intel, but he got hit on his way out. We;ve got some friends down there that checked in on him, and from the sound of it, he's suddenly developed an unreasoning fear of the matrix. So now we need to physically pick up his data package.
Sting needs the package within two days. Portland isn't a far drive, but that gives you a little extra time to figure out how you want to get across the border and back. I can also put you in contact with the local Ancients chapter, through a brother named Narse. He's met Seamus in the meat once, and he knows the area.
Part of the problem is that after our contact met with Seamus, he hasn't been seen since. He managed a phone call this morning for about thrity second before he couldn't take it anymore and disconnected, so we know he's still alive. But people are going to be looking for him. We need to find him first.
As he listens to Vixen's briefing, one question keeps niggling at the back of Claymore's mind. As soon as she pauses, he seizes the opportunity and gives voice to his concern.
"So, why can't some of them local Ancients just bring him out? Why risk the double border crossing when there ain't no need? There's assets already in place t' find the dude out and hand him right to us."
"So, why can't some of them local Ancients just bring him out? Why risk the double border crossing when there ain't no need? There's assets already in place t' find the dude out and hand him right to us."
An onsite pick up and 'trix send sounds much easier than jumping the UCAS-Salish boarder, then the Salish-Tir boarder and back again.... It's doable but a lot trickier.... Any specific reason to do it this way?
Sounds like a hell of a fraggin' risk on our part to get there for a 10 minute 'trix job.... 'Nother hit on us?
Sounds like a hell of a fraggin' risk on our part to get there for a 10 minute 'trix job.... 'Nother hit on us?
By the time she's halfway through what -- apparently -- passes for an apology in Seattle, Tain's arms are crossed. His stance doesn't relax as she drops the ambush entirely and rambles on about some job they're all expected to take seriously now, just because she says so.
She's actually expecting them to take her at her word about a trip back to the Tir -- The Tir, across those fucking borders! -- not five minutes after admitting she'd set them up and fed them to The Spikes, of all people? She talks about some human decker, about how important this job is, about him being in hiding somewhere in Portland, about the local Chapter helping them out... and the whole time, Tain's just standing there, arms crossed and muscles tense, features drawn in angry lines.
The others start to ask questions like they're taking it all seriously, but they can't really be doing that because they're not insane. Tain's cheeks flush red. He breaks.
"No." His voice cuts through the room like a monoknife. He knows how to talk, and raises the volume just enough to exert verbal authority.
"I won't cross those borders, risk that security, for you. I've been there. I've run that border, been on the other side, and laughed while I killed anyone who got too close. Not for you, wench." His tone is matter of fact, his voice still taut with anger but not crazed from it -- mad, but sane. Dead serious. "I'm not going to risk a border crossing, retreive some little human, on your word. Not after tonight. Sting wants it done? Sting can ask us."
He uncrosses his arms, balls his fists again, takes a half-step towards her. Not to attack, but to invade. To press his personal space against hers, exert his dominance, push at her, and speak again. This time, Gryphon screams in his words. "Go away. I'll talk to Sting."
She's actually expecting them to take her at her word about a trip back to the Tir -- The Tir, across those fucking borders! -- not five minutes after admitting she'd set them up and fed them to The Spikes, of all people? She talks about some human decker, about how important this job is, about him being in hiding somewhere in Portland, about the local Chapter helping them out... and the whole time, Tain's just standing there, arms crossed and muscles tense, features drawn in angry lines.
The others start to ask questions like they're taking it all seriously, but they can't really be doing that because they're not insane. Tain's cheeks flush red. He breaks.
"No." His voice cuts through the room like a monoknife. He knows how to talk, and raises the volume just enough to exert verbal authority.
"I won't cross those borders, risk that security, for you. I've been there. I've run that border, been on the other side, and laughed while I killed anyone who got too close. Not for you, wench." His tone is matter of fact, his voice still taut with anger but not crazed from it -- mad, but sane. Dead serious. "I'm not going to risk a border crossing, retreive some little human, on your word. Not after tonight. Sting wants it done? Sting can ask us."
He uncrosses his arms, balls his fists again, takes a half-step towards her. Not to attack, but to invade. To press his personal space against hers, exert his dominance, push at her, and speak again. This time, Gryphon screams in his words. "Go away. I'll talk to Sting."
[ Spoiler ]
Haven stands, madness receding, and feeling slightly foolish. Here he has placed himself on the line, and stood up for his family, and they are just taking it on the chin from this... this.... duplicitous bitch. Are they afraid of her after the ambush? Is that where this is coming from? Do they fear her so much that they are willing to just take this betrayal? I... I don't understand.
Haven starts nearly imperceptibly as Tain steps forward from behind him with an assertive "No". Dar'ian relaxes a little with backup finally here and allows himself to feel a little pride as his brother stands with him against this traitor. Feeling a little more confident now that he has some backing and listening with no little pleasure as Tain berates her, Haven levies a glare of his own at Vixen just as Tain is telling her to leave.
Haven starts nearly imperceptibly as Tain steps forward from behind him with an assertive "No". Dar'ian relaxes a little with backup finally here and allows himself to feel a little pride as his brother stands with him against this traitor. Feeling a little more confident now that he has some backing and listening with no little pleasure as Tain berates her, Haven levies a glare of his own at Vixen just as Tain is telling her to leave.
The scowl on Aero's face lightens a little at Tain's comment and looking up at him, he nods slightly as though in acknowledgement of a good point and then leans back in his chair waiting for Vixen's response.
Glad at least some see the risks, and the ambush potential here, let's see how she plays it there's gonna have to be some serious assurences now
Glad at least some see the risks, and the ambush potential here, let's see how she plays it there's gonna have to be some serious assurences now
Claymore doesn't move from his place near the door as Tain decides to press the point. Let the others think what they like, at least for now, the elven gunslinger doesn't regret his words, nor his decision to put this event on the back burner for the time being. If what the slitch was saying is true, then Sting must really think it's important enough to skip normal channels for this little mission. Of course he wasn't stupid enough to just go blindly into a trap, at least not a second time, and he was fully intending on checking Vixen's story out further as soon as he got the chance.
In the meantime though, decision made, he is content to wait and warily watch the unfolding drama.
In the meantime though, decision made, he is content to wait and warily watch the unfolding drama.
Commanding Voice Leadership + Charisma opposed by Leadership+ Willpower
There's a brief second where Vixen's entire body seems to lock up, then she stalks out towards the door, passing by Tain at his lace at the wall without even a look. She makes it to the dor, reaches for the handle, and stops, turning towards him, her features in a mask of pure rage.
You fragging impudent slitch! On your knees! Her eyes burn as she points imperiously at the floor, her voice carrying the power of command.
Commanding Voice
[ Spoiler ]
There's a brief second where Vixen's entire body seems to lock up, then she stalks out towards the door, passing by Tain at his lace at the wall without even a look. She makes it to the dor, reaches for the handle, and stops, turning towards him, her features in a mask of pure rage.
You fragging impudent slitch! On your knees! Her eyes burn as she points imperiously at the floor, her voice carrying the power of command.
Commanding Voice
[ Spoiler ]
[ Spoiler ]
Tain's angular features sharpen along the jawline; his teeth clench so hard you can almost hear them grinding. A voice tells him to kneel. It rings with false authority. Arrogance. Brittle pride. She's sure of herself, sure that people obey her, but in all the wrong ways and for all the wrong reasons. She is not of Gryphon. She is not of Tain's blood. Her voice, shrill with anger, commands him to kneel. Another voice, that of Tain's father, tells him to stand firm.
He doesn't move.
"Fuck you." It may genuinely be amongst the first times anyone in the room has heard the proud Tain stoop to vulgar language, outside of when he's in the midst of a mana-enhanced rage. When he's properly frothing, flashing teeth in feral grins and waving his sword clean through engine blocks, there's no telling what words he'll be spouting, or in what language. His voice is still harsh with anger, but the rage isn't upon him now. "There are two people in the world I've knelt before, and may again. You aren't either of them."
Warily eyeing the coming confrontation, he shivers slightly at the tone of their voices. He silently applauds Tain for resisting the leutenant's demands.
Frag it, that's gotta be some mind magic. Well at least a pissing contest here should only be seen as a move for gang position.... I hope could get messy if others start getting involved
Concentrating, he re-enforces his mental defences and gets ready to move out of the firing line if this goes south, like it seems to be lining up for.
Frag it, that's gotta be some mind magic. Well at least a pissing contest here should only be seen as a move for gang position.... I hope could get messy if others start getting involved
Concentrating, he re-enforces his mental defences and gets ready to move out of the firing line if this goes south, like it seems to be lining up for.
Cold rage comes over Vixen's features as Tain resists her will. Her voice is low, full of ice and malice. That's always how it is with you Tir born. No matter what you pretend, your loyalties always go back to you Masters. You're just a dog, hoping if you abase yourself enough you can come back and be whipped more some day. I know what you are Tain, even if you don't. You think that you're some noble blood, that you're something special, but you're not. You're just a lowly street dog, a rabid beast that knows nothing but how to kill. You forget that here, I'm the one in charge, and you're just something the Princes kicked over the border. So when I tell you to kneel, you get on your damn knees
Commanding Voice = 11 hits
Commanding Voice = 11 hits
[ Spoiler ]
"You're only...right, you pink-headed tramp, about...me knowing how to kill." Tain takes a step towards her, fighting his knees' urge to buckle, to bend. Locking up, resisting, was hard. Moving, moving his legs, and not obeying her command is murder. Unclenching his jaw to speak is dizzyingly difficult. But submitting would kill him, he suspects. He lifts his other foot, gets another step closer. His right hand is balled in an angry fist, his left clenched on the hilt of his sword -- not so much to draw it as to remind him who gave it to him, and what words came with it -- so hard his knuckles are white. The wave of forced obedience crashes against his will, against his Spirit itself, then the tide recedes. It's not his father's voice that helps him lift the weight this time, but the proud, clarion, call of Gryphon himself. He strides two more steps towards her, motions not so jilted and forced, now. Muscles in his jawline still twitch, but now from rage. His cheeks flush a dangerous red. "You have no idea what blood runs in my veins, goronit, or how I was asked to leave my home."
He stops a half-step outside arm's reach, left hand still idling on his sword's molded rubber-tacky hilt, right hand lifting to jab a finger at her. "Name your weapon, or hold your tongue and get us Sting."
And just like that, with three words, he's ended the foreplay. No more shouted commands, no more words at all. They've both said more than enough. He's moved it up a plane, raised the bar, assured that it will end with violence unless she stops it right now. Only the nobility of his totem keeps him from drawing down and gutting her on the spot; there are rules, though, even here, about how you claw your way up the food chain, how and when you're supposed to do violence against other Ancients.
Tain will follow them, though every man in the room knows Vixen hasn't.
He stops a half-step outside arm's reach, left hand still idling on his sword's molded rubber-tacky hilt, right hand lifting to jab a finger at her. "Name your weapon, or hold your tongue and get us Sting."
And just like that, with three words, he's ended the foreplay. No more shouted commands, no more words at all. They've both said more than enough. He's moved it up a plane, raised the bar, assured that it will end with violence unless she stops it right now. Only the nobility of his totem keeps him from drawing down and gutting her on the spot; there are rules, though, even here, about how you claw your way up the food chain, how and when you're supposed to do violence against other Ancients.
Tain will follow them, though every man in the room knows Vixen hasn't.
[ Spoiler ]
[ Spoiler ]
Watching the battle of words and wills being played out in front of him, some of the tension drains from Claymore's body. Though still alert and on guard, he is in some way relieved that Tain has brought things to a head with the traitorous slitch.
The elf idly wishes for a cigarette, but doesn't dare make the move to pull out his pack and risk interrupting the action.
The elf idly wishes for a cigarette, but doesn't dare make the move to pull out his pack and risk interrupting the action.
Vixen's eyes are nearly bluging from her head, although her expression is set in stone, her lips tight, shock and rage battling each other. Her answer is tight, forced, sharp.
Road Rage. Bikes and blades. Ten minutes.
She turns on a heel, apparently giving enough stock to Tain's honor that he won't impale her while she isn't looking. She flings the door open and storms from the room, down the hall to the Lounge. Silence follows her, then a moment later, a single female voice, Shalamar's, can be heard, calm and controlled.
It's a Challenge. Everyone down stairs. Now. There's no edge, no push of authority behind the shamans words, but everyone follows them. Within moments however, the deadly silence is replaced by whoops and cheers goign down the stair wells as Ancients call to their fellows.
The Challenge; a Tir tradition, wherein two members of equal or near standing contest for position or influence. The gauntlet is thrown down and taken up, and the mediator decides the outcome. Things are less nebulous in the hard edged world of the Ancients. The loser usually being dead is usually in a bad position for contesting the outcome. There rarely need be a judge.
Road Rage; jousting on the freeway. Two jousters face off against each other with any hand held implement they choose. No projectiles, no magic, no rigging. "Head ta' head, 'til your dead." Road Rage.
Road Rage. Bikes and blades. Ten minutes.
She turns on a heel, apparently giving enough stock to Tain's honor that he won't impale her while she isn't looking. She flings the door open and storms from the room, down the hall to the Lounge. Silence follows her, then a moment later, a single female voice, Shalamar's, can be heard, calm and controlled.
It's a Challenge. Everyone down stairs. Now. There's no edge, no push of authority behind the shamans words, but everyone follows them. Within moments however, the deadly silence is replaced by whoops and cheers goign down the stair wells as Ancients call to their fellows.
The Challenge; a Tir tradition, wherein two members of equal or near standing contest for position or influence. The gauntlet is thrown down and taken up, and the mediator decides the outcome. Things are less nebulous in the hard edged world of the Ancients. The loser usually being dead is usually in a bad position for contesting the outcome. There rarely need be a judge.
Road Rage; jousting on the freeway. Two jousters face off against each other with any hand held implement they choose. No projectiles, no magic, no rigging. "Head ta' head, 'til your dead." Road Rage.
Tain puts a hand on the doorway, leaning out into the hall to call out in a clear voice, "Squire, check on Liath Macha. Battery and tires. Thank you."
He knows he's loud enough to cut through the occasional whoops and the now-steady pitter-patter of elven feet. He knows the girl will get the bike as ready for him as it needs to be. He also knows keeping her busy will keep her from saying anything stupid to Vixen or her most loyal followers in the minutes left before the duel. His scowl aims at the floor for a heartbeat, then he looks back up, turning to the other three.
"Haven, sorry to drag you into the middle of this." He doesn't say anything to Aero or Claymore specifically, just catches their gazes for a heartbeat apiece and gives each of them a little nod. He hadn't planned on climbing in rank when he'd gotten out of bed this morning, but he hadn't planned on getting ambushed by Spikes or asked to go back south, either; it would be a busy day by the time all was said and done. "You three might not be anyone's favorites, if things go poorly for me."
He knows he's loud enough to cut through the occasional whoops and the now-steady pitter-patter of elven feet. He knows the girl will get the bike as ready for him as it needs to be. He also knows keeping her busy will keep her from saying anything stupid to Vixen or her most loyal followers in the minutes left before the duel. His scowl aims at the floor for a heartbeat, then he looks back up, turning to the other three.
"Haven, sorry to drag you into the middle of this." He doesn't say anything to Aero or Claymore specifically, just catches their gazes for a heartbeat apiece and gives each of them a little nod. He hadn't planned on climbing in rank when he'd gotten out of bed this morning, but he hadn't planned on getting ambushed by Spikes or asked to go back south, either; it would be a busy day by the time all was said and done. "You three might not be anyone's favorites, if things go poorly for me."
Haven moves over to Tain and puts a hand on his shoulder, turning him slightly towards him and looking directly into his eyes. "One thing you may not know about me, Tain, is that I always, always back up family. That bitch needed to be challenged, and frankly if you hadn't taken over so handily I would have done it myself. Favoritism or not I don't care, and I will back you to the end in this. I am proud of you, my brother, and I will aid you in any way I can. Unless you have any specific needs or wounds that need tending, then I believe the best way I can help is checking your armor, weapons, and ride. If I may say I am something of a genius with these things, though I do not mean to impugn your skill or that of your squire. Let me help, my brother. It is the least you deserve for defending all of us from this insane, power mad traitor. Haven squeezes Tain's shoulder slightly and claps him on the back and then heads off in the direction of the garage.
"I'm fine. I know my blade's fine. Give Squire a hand with my bike, though, maybe? I'm..." He's all thumbs when it comes to repairing things. Period. Patching himself up, patching other people up, telling when a motorcycle is working or not. He's bred for war, not peace. Destruction, not construction. "...not the best at that sort of thing. Oh, and my thanks, Haven. For the sentiment."
He nods to the other Ancient as the mechanic turns and heads towards the garage.
He nods to the other Ancient as the mechanic turns and heads towards the garage.
Silently shrugging off Tain's comment, Claymore siezes upon the opportunity to spark up a cigarette while the ex-noble and the mechanic talk. He can't resist rolling his eyes at Haven's vehement words of outrage, but stops himself from making a smart remark, taking a lungful of smoke instead.
As they leave the conference room, he lightly drops a hand on Tain's shoulder.
"Just don't lose!"
As they leave the conference room, he lightly drops a hand on Tain's shoulder.
"Just don't lose!"
It's almost shocking how fast it moved froma souting match to a challenge on the street, one Aero was banking on Tain winning.
We got your back omae, give your all like I know you will. Brothers in fire before the rest.
And then headed downstairs with Tain to check the proceedings and watch for the slitch cheating.
We got your back omae, give your all like I know you will. Brothers in fire before the rest.
And then headed downstairs with Tain to check the proceedings and watch for the slitch cheating.
When they arrive at the garage, there's already at least two score Ancients 'assembled', talking, checking out the challengers, and betting profusely (so far it looks like Tain'sgot close to even odds). The girl Squire, a young elf close to Tain, with very close cropped blond hair and grease on her hands, is already going over Tain's bike as quickly as she can. On the other side of the garage, another Ancient is looking over Vixen's Harley Diablo as the woman herself slides on fingerless gloves. The garage is full of excitement and eagerness to see the Challenge and blood, until Green Lucifer walks in.
A hush falls over the garage as the tall elf slowly walks in, looking across the space, taking everything in. He stops for a moment and speaks with another elf, a young man named Halo, who quietly relays what's been happening. Green's head nods a couple of times as he listens, then signals Halo to stop with a gesture, walking forward into the open space in the center of the garage that seems to nautrally form as Ancients step back, no one wanting to be the center of attention.
Vixen, Tain, step forward. Lucifer waits for a moment as the crowd moves for the two, Vixen stepping forward confidently.
Tain, you are the Challenger. Explain your grievance.
A hush falls over the garage as the tall elf slowly walks in, looking across the space, taking everything in. He stops for a moment and speaks with another elf, a young man named Halo, who quietly relays what's been happening. Green's head nods a couple of times as he listens, then signals Halo to stop with a gesture, walking forward into the open space in the center of the garage that seems to nautrally form as Ancients step back, no one wanting to be the center of attention.
Vixen, Tain, step forward. Lucifer waits for a moment as the crowd moves for the two, Vixen stepping forward confidently.
Tain, you are the Challenger. Explain your grievance.
Tain leans down to give Squire one last pat on the shoulder and a nod -- Liath Macha's in as fine a shape as it's ever been -- and straightens up, walking forward alongside his newfound rival. He gives Green Lucifer a nod, pauses two heartbeats after his announcement, and replies.
"You all know me. You all know Aero and Claymore." A hand gesture, somewhere between a wave and a point, pulls the two out of the crowd and presents them as props. Tain knows how to talk. He's studied rhetoric, polished his skills through hard work and practice, and has the raw charisma to make it all fall together. "You've fought beside us, seen us bleed and kill for the gang. You know us as brothers in arms. What you don't know is that tonight the three of us were offered, on a silver platter, to the Ancient's worst enemies. We were told to meet. Told to relax and wait. Told someone would see us, speak to us about important Ancient's business. Others were told we'd be there, too, where and when."
"Spikes." He turns with the word, glare taking in the whole crowd, spitting the word like a curse. Everyone in Seattle knows how you get into Torgo's gang. You grow up Troll to get the chance, and you kill an elf to get the colors. He lets the word hang there for several seconds, lets the muttering just barely start up, before he raises his voice over it. "A lieutenant in their filthy pack was called and told where to find us, just earlier this evening. We were set up. Bombed. The three of us carved and shot a half dozen of them before the ambush was over."
It's a long tradition, martial bragging. If you're going to be challenging someone, you've got to present yourself as much as your greivance.
"Vixen made that call." He turns again, wheeling and staring at her as he speaks. "We learned as much through our own investigation, after she 'rescheduled' her conversation with us. Face to face, eye to eye, we asked her to deny it. She did not. She was proud of herself. Thought herself clever. Thought it was fine and wise to throw us to those animals, to see us blooded by our lessers through their animalistic cunning and her deception. She said she was testing us. Us."
Tain wheels, arms out, gesturing to the elven crowd, pulling those hands in to pat his own chest. "Vixen was testing elves by walking them into an ambush by those creatures?!"
He does the gang the favor of not shouting what mission they were being tested for. In truth, it adds to the fire in his belly; that she would make them fight trolls as a test for those who'd later fight elves was insult itself. He can't let himself, though, much as he wants to share the outrage that she'd ever even imply such a comparison. He won't. The Ancient's secrets aren't to be shouted aloud, even to other Ancients.
"She does not appreciate the difference between us and them. She does not appreciate the value of our lives, compared to theirs. She does not value our lives, as Ancients, or yours, as soldiers just as loyal as we three, as trusting in our leaders, as willing to go where they order us, wait where they tell us." His chest heaves, and not from the exertion of raising his voice. Fury boils within him. Outrage. Indignation. Disgust. He's not finished, though. He's got to show that she's not only undeserving of leading them, but unfit. He broke her. He knows it. They should, too.
"And after that, when I expressed my disgust at her treachery -- when we all did, even Haven who was not threatened by her betrayal -- and demanded she leave, and let us speak to Sting instead of her? She did not refuse." He turns from the crowd, from Green Lucifer, from his comrades, to glare straight at her. "Or rather, she did not refuse alone. She refused to grant us access to her superior to air our grievance, yes. But also, for daring to doubt her, she sought to bend my will to hers. Using her magic, she sought to humiliate me in front of my peers. She ordered me kneel. Not once, but twice, she sought to bend my will to hers. She doubted my loyalty to my brothers and sisters. She belittled my heritage. She called me a dog. She told me when she spoke, it was my place to obey. Nothing more."
He lets it hang there, wheeling again, eyes on the crowd, letting each of them feel his gaze. The implication, of course, is that that's how she views them all. He lets the muttering start again, again cuts it off.
"You all know me." Tain states it again simply, matter of factly. He lifts his chin. "I follow Gryphon. I am an Ancient. If commanded by a leader, I obey. But she ordered me to kneel, and I. Would. Not. Gryphon would not let me."
He remembers the books, the memoirs of his father's, that he's got memorized. Remembers the tips therein for public speaking, the paragraphs on reading a crowd that he can recite word for word. He has to remember his audience. He knows he's got them angry. He can smell it. He's got to wrap it up, give them a line to empathize with. He's known for his pride, but let them know it isn't pride alone that's got him drawing steel against a sister. If he's going to take Vixen's place, not merely kill her, he's got to turn the crowd to him, not just away from her.
He's got to remember who he's talking to. He's not in the Star Chamber, he's in a garage.
"Brothers. Sisters. She isn't fit to order you and I on a beer run. I wouldn't trust her not to drive off and leave us behind at a Stuffer Shack, only to think herself clever for 'testing' us by making us walk home in the rain." He shakes his head in disgust, forces a wry smile -- for the crowd -- to twist his mouth. A little shrug of his shoulders wraps up the talk, shows he's simply out of words to express his distaste for her. He has one last query, one last insult, though. Tailored, perfectly, for his audience. "And why did she have this 'Rip' fellow's trid number, anyways?"
"My grievance is that she does not lead, but orders." He looks to Green Lucifer, grin gone, features hard and cold with anger. "And tonight I'll either keep her from ordering any more Ancients to their deaths by ambush, simply for the joy of seeing herself be obeyed, or I'll die trying, simply so I don't need to hear about it happening again."
"You all know me. You all know Aero and Claymore." A hand gesture, somewhere between a wave and a point, pulls the two out of the crowd and presents them as props. Tain knows how to talk. He's studied rhetoric, polished his skills through hard work and practice, and has the raw charisma to make it all fall together. "You've fought beside us, seen us bleed and kill for the gang. You know us as brothers in arms. What you don't know is that tonight the three of us were offered, on a silver platter, to the Ancient's worst enemies. We were told to meet. Told to relax and wait. Told someone would see us, speak to us about important Ancient's business. Others were told we'd be there, too, where and when."
"Spikes." He turns with the word, glare taking in the whole crowd, spitting the word like a curse. Everyone in Seattle knows how you get into Torgo's gang. You grow up Troll to get the chance, and you kill an elf to get the colors. He lets the word hang there for several seconds, lets the muttering just barely start up, before he raises his voice over it. "A lieutenant in their filthy pack was called and told where to find us, just earlier this evening. We were set up. Bombed. The three of us carved and shot a half dozen of them before the ambush was over."
It's a long tradition, martial bragging. If you're going to be challenging someone, you've got to present yourself as much as your greivance.
"Vixen made that call." He turns again, wheeling and staring at her as he speaks. "We learned as much through our own investigation, after she 'rescheduled' her conversation with us. Face to face, eye to eye, we asked her to deny it. She did not. She was proud of herself. Thought herself clever. Thought it was fine and wise to throw us to those animals, to see us blooded by our lessers through their animalistic cunning and her deception. She said she was testing us. Us."
Tain wheels, arms out, gesturing to the elven crowd, pulling those hands in to pat his own chest. "Vixen was testing elves by walking them into an ambush by those creatures?!"
He does the gang the favor of not shouting what mission they were being tested for. In truth, it adds to the fire in his belly; that she would make them fight trolls as a test for those who'd later fight elves was insult itself. He can't let himself, though, much as he wants to share the outrage that she'd ever even imply such a comparison. He won't. The Ancient's secrets aren't to be shouted aloud, even to other Ancients.
"She does not appreciate the difference between us and them. She does not appreciate the value of our lives, compared to theirs. She does not value our lives, as Ancients, or yours, as soldiers just as loyal as we three, as trusting in our leaders, as willing to go where they order us, wait where they tell us." His chest heaves, and not from the exertion of raising his voice. Fury boils within him. Outrage. Indignation. Disgust. He's not finished, though. He's got to show that she's not only undeserving of leading them, but unfit. He broke her. He knows it. They should, too.
"And after that, when I expressed my disgust at her treachery -- when we all did, even Haven who was not threatened by her betrayal -- and demanded she leave, and let us speak to Sting instead of her? She did not refuse." He turns from the crowd, from Green Lucifer, from his comrades, to glare straight at her. "Or rather, she did not refuse alone. She refused to grant us access to her superior to air our grievance, yes. But also, for daring to doubt her, she sought to bend my will to hers. Using her magic, she sought to humiliate me in front of my peers. She ordered me kneel. Not once, but twice, she sought to bend my will to hers. She doubted my loyalty to my brothers and sisters. She belittled my heritage. She called me a dog. She told me when she spoke, it was my place to obey. Nothing more."
He lets it hang there, wheeling again, eyes on the crowd, letting each of them feel his gaze. The implication, of course, is that that's how she views them all. He lets the muttering start again, again cuts it off.
"You all know me." Tain states it again simply, matter of factly. He lifts his chin. "I follow Gryphon. I am an Ancient. If commanded by a leader, I obey. But she ordered me to kneel, and I. Would. Not. Gryphon would not let me."
He remembers the books, the memoirs of his father's, that he's got memorized. Remembers the tips therein for public speaking, the paragraphs on reading a crowd that he can recite word for word. He has to remember his audience. He knows he's got them angry. He can smell it. He's got to wrap it up, give them a line to empathize with. He's known for his pride, but let them know it isn't pride alone that's got him drawing steel against a sister. If he's going to take Vixen's place, not merely kill her, he's got to turn the crowd to him, not just away from her.
He's got to remember who he's talking to. He's not in the Star Chamber, he's in a garage.
"Brothers. Sisters. She isn't fit to order you and I on a beer run. I wouldn't trust her not to drive off and leave us behind at a Stuffer Shack, only to think herself clever for 'testing' us by making us walk home in the rain." He shakes his head in disgust, forces a wry smile -- for the crowd -- to twist his mouth. A little shrug of his shoulders wraps up the talk, shows he's simply out of words to express his distaste for her. He has one last query, one last insult, though. Tailored, perfectly, for his audience. "And why did she have this 'Rip' fellow's trid number, anyways?"
"My grievance is that she does not lead, but orders." He looks to Green Lucifer, grin gone, features hard and cold with anger. "And tonight I'll either keep her from ordering any more Ancients to their deaths by ambush, simply for the joy of seeing herself be obeyed, or I'll die trying, simply so I don't need to hear about it happening again."
[ Spoiler ]
[ Spoiler ]
Roll Leadership +3 Modifierfor RPing, modified by Street Cred +/- Notoriety, -2 for Vixen's Social Rank (pg122)
The crowd of assembled Ancients stands quietly for a few moments, voices slowly rising, many in anger, although the direction is unclear. Many shift, shouts are given, incriminating fingers point, some at Tain, some at Vixen. Into this gathering storm, Vixen takes a few steps forward, her clear voice rising over the crowd.
Some of what Tain says is true, as shocking as it may be. As is the way of his kind, those whose hearts are truely loyal to the Land and Princes we have left behind, he distorts the truth, twists it to his own ends, and makes it something corrupt and self serving.
Over the past few months, I have come to believe that we have a spy within the Ancients. A loyal son of the Tir and it's corrupt leaders, among us to gather our secrets and offer them to up, raising one soul at the cost of all of ours. I shared my concerns with Sting, who instructed me to investigate. My investigations uncovered a number of instances when Ancients operations could have only been compromised by a spy. She pauses for a moment to allow those assembled to take in what's she's said, and the implications it suggests.
After much watching, and discussing the matter quietly with others, I narrowed my list to three. Those three stand before you now. And although I had a very difficult time beliveing Claymore was involved, he did have motive. But I am not here to accuse Claymore. He, I believe is innocent. Over the last few weeks, I have left the three of them out of Ancients operations, and the number of these breaches as subsided. But I had no more to go on. And so, yes, I did contact the Spikes. There is a gasp and shouts of outrage, al directed at Vixen, but her voice clearly carries over the din of the crowd, quickly bringing them back to listening.
A hacker I know was able to get me the information I need. Tain suggests that I might have had prior contact, a clear attempt to link me to these creatures, when he knows full well get something as simple as a comm number barely takes any effort these days. I set my enemies against my enemy, rather than risk a the full confrontation this has become. Claymore I worried nothing for, as he has hunted the Spikes with skill for years. Never once did I worry that the Ancients would not slaughter them, and indeed you see these three standing before you now with hardly a scratch on them. I even made sure that Aero would be with them, able to provide magical healing should it be needed. Does this sound like the actions of someone who is trying to kill!? No! My intention was to force the spy to panic, to contact his superiors when apparently "sold out". In the process, Claymore got more trophies, the reputation of the Ancients is increased, and six spikes are dead. And I am now quite sure that Tain is the spy!
He tells you that I manipulated him, when in truth, he used his powers on me first, and I retaliated. And instead of showing his proper obediance, he swore that the only masters he would ever bowed to were the ones that had supposedly banished him! We know where his loyalties lay now. His true allegiances are revealed. He is the gryphon, he that raises himself above all others and is concerned only with his own glory. He is divisive and ambitious, seeking now my position to give himself even more power. And if this Challenge is what it takes to end this threat to the Ancients, I will meet it with blade in hand!
Vixen- Leadership +StreetCred+ 3 (Obvious Authority Figure +1/Higher Social +2) + Edge Re-Roll = 17 Hits
Rolls - Players, no peeking.
The crowd of assembled Ancients stands quietly for a few moments, voices slowly rising, many in anger, although the direction is unclear. Many shift, shouts are given, incriminating fingers point, some at Tain, some at Vixen. Into this gathering storm, Vixen takes a few steps forward, her clear voice rising over the crowd.
Some of what Tain says is true, as shocking as it may be. As is the way of his kind, those whose hearts are truely loyal to the Land and Princes we have left behind, he distorts the truth, twists it to his own ends, and makes it something corrupt and self serving.
Over the past few months, I have come to believe that we have a spy within the Ancients. A loyal son of the Tir and it's corrupt leaders, among us to gather our secrets and offer them to up, raising one soul at the cost of all of ours. I shared my concerns with Sting, who instructed me to investigate. My investigations uncovered a number of instances when Ancients operations could have only been compromised by a spy. She pauses for a moment to allow those assembled to take in what's she's said, and the implications it suggests.
After much watching, and discussing the matter quietly with others, I narrowed my list to three. Those three stand before you now. And although I had a very difficult time beliveing Claymore was involved, he did have motive. But I am not here to accuse Claymore. He, I believe is innocent. Over the last few weeks, I have left the three of them out of Ancients operations, and the number of these breaches as subsided. But I had no more to go on. And so, yes, I did contact the Spikes. There is a gasp and shouts of outrage, al directed at Vixen, but her voice clearly carries over the din of the crowd, quickly bringing them back to listening.
A hacker I know was able to get me the information I need. Tain suggests that I might have had prior contact, a clear attempt to link me to these creatures, when he knows full well get something as simple as a comm number barely takes any effort these days. I set my enemies against my enemy, rather than risk a the full confrontation this has become. Claymore I worried nothing for, as he has hunted the Spikes with skill for years. Never once did I worry that the Ancients would not slaughter them, and indeed you see these three standing before you now with hardly a scratch on them. I even made sure that Aero would be with them, able to provide magical healing should it be needed. Does this sound like the actions of someone who is trying to kill!? No! My intention was to force the spy to panic, to contact his superiors when apparently "sold out". In the process, Claymore got more trophies, the reputation of the Ancients is increased, and six spikes are dead. And I am now quite sure that Tain is the spy!
He tells you that I manipulated him, when in truth, he used his powers on me first, and I retaliated. And instead of showing his proper obediance, he swore that the only masters he would ever bowed to were the ones that had supposedly banished him! We know where his loyalties lay now. His true allegiances are revealed. He is the gryphon, he that raises himself above all others and is concerned only with his own glory. He is divisive and ambitious, seeking now my position to give himself even more power. And if this Challenge is what it takes to end this threat to the Ancients, I will meet it with blade in hand!
Vixen- Leadership +StreetCred+ 3 (Obvious Authority Figure +1/Higher Social +2) + Edge Re-Roll = 17 Hits
[ Spoiler ]
Rolls - Players, no peeking.
[ Spoiler ]
The arrival of Green Lucifer brings a scowl to the gunslinger's face, and does nothing to allay Claymore's uneasiness. The blond elf stands stock still as Tain makes his speech, only taking a couple of steps forward when it was appropriate.
As Vixen starts to speak, and his name is mentioned in connection with traitorous acts, his face becomes bright red with anger, his fists clenching unconsciously as he struggles to maintain his silence. Teeth clenched, Claymore listens as the slitch goes on, not at all assuaged by her claim that she now believes him innocent, as the slur has been made, the damage already done.
By the end of Vixen's speech, Claymore is even more resolved that, despite the outcome of the imminent challenge, the matter is far from over as far as he is concerned.
As Vixen starts to speak, and his name is mentioned in connection with traitorous acts, his face becomes bright red with anger, his fists clenching unconsciously as he struggles to maintain his silence. Teeth clenched, Claymore listens as the slitch goes on, not at all assuaged by her claim that she now believes him innocent, as the slur has been made, the damage already done.
By the end of Vixen's speech, Claymore is even more resolved that, despite the outcome of the imminent challenge, the matter is far from over as far as he is concerned.
Aero's stance as Green Lucifier arrives starts to relax and then almost immediately tights again, his thoughts distracted until the speeches start. He is mostly still through Tain's although you can see his blood rising as the stirring speech continues to it's cressendo, and then Vixen speaks.
His face reddens and then goes blotchy with rage as her speech talks of one of them as a spy, and that it was reasonable to use Spikes to test them, sure the trogs were no match but anything can happen and anyone can get unlucky when the bullets fly. He looks like he would shout out and storm forward until a firm but stong hand is laid on his shoulder holding him still. Snapping his head round he sees Joey, another mage but older and more level headed, gently shake his head and nod towards the front in a tacturn suggestion to calm himself and pay attention.
Turning back pulls on the half healed wounds in his side and threaten his edge of control as he winces noticably and barely control the arm going to hold his side, stopping it halfway and then returning it to his side, as she says he was sent to prevent injuries. And what of my own, you psycho bitch! No prep, an ambush and you expect me to survive unscratched as the adepts can? Oh this isn't over regardless of the challenge result
Holding himself in check as much as he can and glad Joey is there in case he can't he simply grinds his teeth the fury radiating off him.
His face reddens and then goes blotchy with rage as her speech talks of one of them as a spy, and that it was reasonable to use Spikes to test them, sure the trogs were no match but anything can happen and anyone can get unlucky when the bullets fly. He looks like he would shout out and storm forward until a firm but stong hand is laid on his shoulder holding him still. Snapping his head round he sees Joey, another mage but older and more level headed, gently shake his head and nod towards the front in a tacturn suggestion to calm himself and pay attention.
Turning back pulls on the half healed wounds in his side and threaten his edge of control as he winces noticably and barely control the arm going to hold his side, stopping it halfway and then returning it to his side, as she says he was sent to prevent injuries. And what of my own, you psycho bitch! No prep, an ambush and you expect me to survive unscratched as the adepts can? Oh this isn't over regardless of the challenge result
Holding himself in check as much as he can and glad Joey is there in case he can't he simply grinds his teeth the fury radiating off him.
Haven, still working over Tain's bike, just waves when his name is mentioned and goes back to work. Listening with half an ear to Vixen's speech, he clenches his teeth and tries not to let his rage break his concentration as he goes over all the connections and makes sure all the seals are tight, then syncs with the Agent in the bike and tries to scan it for bugs.
The assembled crowd surges in anger, now directed most certainly at Tain. The speed in which they change focus, the concentration of their anger, is almost unnatural in it's ferocity and unity. Were it not for the Challenge already having been made, there's little doubt that more than a few Ancients would have already moved for Tain. Vixen's speech is so compelling, some even on the wrong side of it's silvered edge can't help but wonder....
Green Lucifer steps forward again, holding one hand out...
Aero,Claymore,Tain - Perception Test (3) No modifiers
The crowd quickly quiets, turning their attention to the lieutenant as he raises his voice only slightly, forcing silence so that he may be heard.
The Challenge is valid. Vixen and Tain will meet, under the eye of those assembled, and settle the issue. Tain is the Challenger, Vixen has accepted, under the Challenge of Road Rage. As both claim grievous wrong, this matter is especially devisive and potentially heinous. Only death will settle the balance.
A murmur passes through the crowd as Green Lucifer pronounces a death sentence for one of the participants. However, no one argues. No one moves however, until a woman's voice comes from the back of the crowd.
Mount up! The Challenge has been given! Let's settle this. Sting pushes past the crowd, which quickly parts for her, giving eye to neither Tain nor Vixen. Sting's Mitsuhama Blaze is already prepped for her as she climbs onto it and hits the ignition. There's no more time for words as Ancients scramble to bikes at their leader's command.
Green Lucifer steps forward again, holding one hand out...
Aero,Claymore,Tain - Perception Test (3) No modifiers
The crowd quickly quiets, turning their attention to the lieutenant as he raises his voice only slightly, forcing silence so that he may be heard.
The Challenge is valid. Vixen and Tain will meet, under the eye of those assembled, and settle the issue. Tain is the Challenger, Vixen has accepted, under the Challenge of Road Rage. As both claim grievous wrong, this matter is especially devisive and potentially heinous. Only death will settle the balance.
A murmur passes through the crowd as Green Lucifer pronounces a death sentence for one of the participants. However, no one argues. No one moves however, until a woman's voice comes from the back of the crowd.
Mount up! The Challenge has been given! Let's settle this. Sting pushes past the crowd, which quickly parts for her, giving eye to neither Tain nor Vixen. Sting's Mitsuhama Blaze is already prepped for her as she climbs onto it and hits the ignition. There's no more time for words as Ancients scramble to bikes at their leader's command.
[ Spoiler ]
Tain clenches his jaw in silent rage at her baseless accusations; baseless and unsubstantiated, no less. All she does is call him traitor, and the horde clamors for his blood. It's all the more frustrating because it's enough, it works. She was born here. She dresses like them. She talks like them and swaggers like them. She has that ridiculous hair, those absurd little horns. She's from here, and he isn't. They trust her enough to simply believe and obey, the poor, blind, barbarian fools. His stoic gaze sweeps the room defiantly, daring any of the loudest to step too close. His eyes soften, eagle-sharp glare turns to quiet acceptance, as he sees Squire and Haven still near his bike, Curly and Jake shoving and cursing, stubbornly keeping their bets on him, Claymore and Aero an island of anger as pure as his own, amidst the riotous crowd.
She doesn't know it, of course, stupid cow that she is...but Vixen is doing his work for him. He hadn't really been paying much attention to the upper ranks, since his arrival in the city. He'd been wary of it. He hadn't allied himself too closely with either major camp, hadn't gotten into bed -- so to speak -- with Green Lucifer or Sting. He'd simply kept his head down, done his job, wiled away the time making up his mind which of them he was closest too, politically, and then given it up and straddled the fence. The time for that was over, though.
The simple fact is, Tain hadn't gotten out of bed this morning and planned on killing his way up the gang ranks any. Here he was, though, and now that he was Challenging Sting's right hand bitch, he'd better start paying attention. She's showing her hand, with her ridiculous claims of him being a traitor. She's riling up her favorites, and telling Tain exactly who they are, saving him the trouble of having to play catch-up and learn his new enemies' faces. They'll be his, before long, but he's got to start soon. Her insolence had rushed things, and he had some work to do. It was nice of her to point them out to him with her unfounded accusations.
They'd turn, in time. He tells himself that, hears it in his father's voice, and believes it as surely as he's believed anything. Anyone can turn to you, given long enough to work on them. He'd kill her like she deserved for her barbaric impudence and deceit, and then get to work warming her crowd to him, as others already had. What followers he had so far had been, largely, instinct and accident. He'd start trying, now. He had to, thrust as he was into the spotlight, now.
When they saw he was true. When her spell of obedience had died, her familiarity had faded over time, they'd turn to him. When he'd been here long enough to prove himself, over and over again, his place would be hers; tonight was a job application. He makes a note of those howling the loudest, knows which enemies he has to turn to allies the fastest.
Lucifer and Sting raise their voices, the shouting stops and the gang -- as one -- surges towards their bikes. Tain gives it a moment, then turns and moves with the crowd, hands at his waist.
By the time he's standing next to Liath Macha, the king of horses has been looked at by the eager-to-please greasemonkey Squire and the gang's best, Haven. Tain couldn't ask for better. He need fear no sabotage, no loose wire or faulty starter, no low battery or wiggling bolt. He would not be denied his victory by rude happenstance or shoddy wiring.
His hands finish their work on the buckle and he holds out his weapon belt. His sword -- the sword -- hangs on one side of the thick black leather, his big wheelgun on the other, his broad-bladed Bowie knife strapped on midway between the two; half the reason for his straight-backed posture was the fat knife constantly resting at the small of his back.
"Squire, I'll trade you." he holds the belt out to her, with a small smile and a nod towards her own sword. A recent gift to her for a touch-up to his bike's paintjob, the monosword wasn't balanced as well -- or thrice-enchanted, of course -- as his usual blade, but it would do for putting down a wild dog. As she takes it, he shoots her his best reassuring wink. "We'll be trading back shortly. Don't go mucking about, dulling the edge, hmm?"
It's not just to reaffirm the trust of his most loyal follower; the gesture will leave no doubt in anyone's head about him breaking the rules of the Challenge. He won't have his true blade's orichalcum cat's-eye seeing the results of the fight doubted, down the road. He won't have it turn to a word-against-word bout between mages friendly to him and loyal to her, and see any more blood spilled over the matter. Squire's blade was as mundane as a lump of cheese. None would accuse him of cheating.
He slings a leg over his bike, straight-backed and peering through the hustle and bustle of the assembled Ancients and their scramble for their own steeds.
"I'll see you outside," he says to those close enough to hear, and near enough to him to bother listening to what he has to say. He kicks Liath Macha to life and hurls himself out into the street.
Emerald eyes sparkling in rage, Claymore silently surveys the reactions of the gathered Ancients, almost daring any that look at him accusingly to actually do something to back up their unspoken claim. His first thought was to speak up in protest of the traitorous slitch's poisoned words, but he quickly realized that it was much too late for words now. After a moment he reluctantly starts to move along with the crowd as they surge toward the parked bikes.
The Scorpion stood in a small puddle of water, its black-into-green sunburst gas tank and gleaming chrome pipes still spotted with droplets of rain, its engine still slightly warm from the race from The Bar Code. It comes as something of a surprise to the elf to realize just how little time has actually passed since the trio pulled into The Squat. And just how much had actually happened in that small stretch of time. As he swings his leg over the big Harley, Vixen's words keep tumbling around in his mind.
Claymore was still somewhat in shock over Vixen's suspicions. He couldn't understand how she, or anyone could have come to think of him as being any kind of a traitor. He'd been a loyal member for more years than he wanted to even think about, and had never even once acted to hurt the gang in any way. Sure he'd had differences with some of the other Ancients, and it was definitely no secret that there was no love lost between the gunslinger and Green Lucifer himself, but to think that he'd betray his brothers was truly way off-base.
Feeling his rage threaten to bubble to the surface once again, the elf tries to clamp it back down while he reviews the entire encounter, mechanically steering his bike out of the garage, and following along among the other members of the gang. While there had been quite a few hidden and not-so-hidden slurs and innuendos slung between Tain and Vixen, the gunslinger would have been lucky to understand more than half of them. Knowing this does nothing to ease his anger and frustration at the whole situation, as in his mind it is only fair that he knows all the details when it comes to his honor and reputation.
As far as Tain is concerned, to be honest Claymore didn't know too much about him at all, but the Tir ex-pat had put his own life on the line earlier this very evening to save him from certain harm, and that counted for a lot. Apart from that, well Tain did start the whole challenge thing in the first place, maybe even for the motives that Vixen asserts. And he does seem to have somewhat of a mysterious and sketchy past, so it was hard for Claymore to be sure of anything at all.
Haven's presence was a surprise at first, but it isn't too much of a puzzle when Claymore thinks about it a little. Despite his overly-dramatic protesting and posturing when hearing about her actions, the tech-rat subsided quickly enough when told to, and is obviously there merely as Vixen's lapdog, a babysitter to watch over the rest of them. That really was a shame, since the few times Claymore had dealings with Haven in the past had left him with a good impression of the mechanical wizard.
Then there is Aero. Where was the mage when the shit hit the fan back at Lulu's? Where was his voice when protests were made in the conference room? Claymore hated to think the worst of any brother, especially one that had given him aid, but if there really was something to what Vixen was spouting, then just maybe Aero is the one to watch.
Blinking the rain from his eyes, the elf shakes his blond head in disgust, no closer to getting a grip on the whole situation, and possibly even more confused than he was when he first got on the bike.
Claymore was still somewhat in shock over Vixen's suspicions. He couldn't understand how she, or anyone could have come to think of him as being any kind of a traitor. He'd been a loyal member for more years than he wanted to even think about, and had never even once acted to hurt the gang in any way. Sure he'd had differences with some of the other Ancients, and it was definitely no secret that there was no love lost between the gunslinger and Green Lucifer himself, but to think that he'd betray his brothers was truly way off-base.
Feeling his rage threaten to bubble to the surface once again, the elf tries to clamp it back down while he reviews the entire encounter, mechanically steering his bike out of the garage, and following along among the other members of the gang. While there had been quite a few hidden and not-so-hidden slurs and innuendos slung between Tain and Vixen, the gunslinger would have been lucky to understand more than half of them. Knowing this does nothing to ease his anger and frustration at the whole situation, as in his mind it is only fair that he knows all the details when it comes to his honor and reputation.
As far as Tain is concerned, to be honest Claymore didn't know too much about him at all, but the Tir ex-pat had put his own life on the line earlier this very evening to save him from certain harm, and that counted for a lot. Apart from that, well Tain did start the whole challenge thing in the first place, maybe even for the motives that Vixen asserts. And he does seem to have somewhat of a mysterious and sketchy past, so it was hard for Claymore to be sure of anything at all.
Haven's presence was a surprise at first, but it isn't too much of a puzzle when Claymore thinks about it a little. Despite his overly-dramatic protesting and posturing when hearing about her actions, the tech-rat subsided quickly enough when told to, and is obviously there merely as Vixen's lapdog, a babysitter to watch over the rest of them. That really was a shame, since the few times Claymore had dealings with Haven in the past had left him with a good impression of the mechanical wizard.
Then there is Aero. Where was the mage when the shit hit the fan back at Lulu's? Where was his voice when protests were made in the conference room? Claymore hated to think the worst of any brother, especially one that had given him aid, but if there really was something to what Vixen was spouting, then just maybe Aero is the one to watch.
Blinking the rain from his eyes, the elf shakes his blond head in disgust, no closer to getting a grip on the whole situation, and possibly even more confused than he was when he first got on the bike.
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