Sigil: T.C.o.D - [Walk-In][Modern Fantasy: Cycle 32][O/A]

[Betty Beelzeboop]

Guildhall Ward: The Dark Swan <<<

Athrien's message was picked up by a passing prostitute who carried the message to Lovi in her personal office.

"Madame," she spoke with a youthful inflection, though her complexion suggested she carried more years than she would care to admit, "There is someone to see you in the entrance hall.."

Dammit. She exhaled for an extent of time and closed her book gently. And just when she had gotten to a good part... Best see to whatever the matter was before it took away the better part of her down time. If it was a client she would simply have to turn him down for the evening and remind him that she did, in fact, work by scheduled appointments.

Her remarkably short hair had dried in the warm glow of the fire and sat in scuffled mess atop her head. She adjusted her robe for modesty, but it was yet quite clear that she didn't wear much else beneath it. Her profession notwithstanding, the guild was her home and she was not about to abandon the small comforts a home warranted.

She recognized Athrien by his attire when she came to meet him. She was admittedly a little surprised to find him back so soon. And alone.

"Welcome," she greeted him, "I take it you come to me with inf- what happened to you?" The inquiry switched gears as she came close enough to observe that this man was not quite the same as when she had met him prior. He looked as though he'd been through hell.

[Athrien Gothril]

arrow The Dark Swan -- A Funny Thing Happened To Me On The Way..

What polite service! A small cough puffed out of Athrien after he gave an invisible smile to the woman that fetched her guild leader. On the bright side, he was getting better -- or perhaps he was merely used to the pain at this point, it was hard to tell. The fact that his skin wasn't peeling off was (possibly falsely) attributed to his "healing factor" fighting off this Papa Nurgle thing.

When Lovi had come to meet him, he greeted her with a slow half-bow and a nod, addressing her question with a soft chuckle.
"What happened to me is part of the story, actually.."
The man gave a small cough, then stopped to catch his breath for a few moments. So as not to scare off anyone, Athrien would also shuffle off to the side and attempt to give the pair more privacy. Such matters were not for public ears.
"And yes, I hope that what I have to tell is worth your time. To begin with, I went to the Lady's Ward to find this "Chuck" fellow, splitting up from Terry and hoping to find out more that way."
A pause. He stopped to breathe for a few moments, on the off chance speaking too much at once would cause an unpleasant fit of coughing, wheezing, and agony.
"Fortunately, I managed to find Charles Helman's estate rather quickly. He was very polite when I came to him, and was very concerned about Crystal as well. He told me that he had sent out a detective of his own to get any information on the girl and that--"

A small series of coughs, followed by heaving breaths, interrupted the exposition. Fortunately, the medical mask stood stalwartly and refused to let any of his potentially-noxious breath through.
"-- My apologies. That she was last seen at a church in the Hive. He also gave away that this place recently acquired a name change, but that's for me to figure out for myself. Anyway."
Another small breather. The less violent breathing he had to do, the better.
"I went to this church -- and I still have the address in memory, if that's of any--"
The man reached into his pocket and procured the piece of paper that held the church's address -- and Charles' handwriting, if that was of any importance to a lady like Lovi. He went ahead and offered it to the guild leader.
"--Forgot I still had that for a moment. In that church, I found Terrance. He was being mutilated by what appeared to be a manic priest, and I had arrived to find the priest on the verge of cutting off the lad's nose straight off. I'm guessing a similar fate took poor Crystal in."
A small chuckle preceded a small cough. Not that death was a particularly fun topic for the man, but the memory of pinning the priest to the wall was enough to lighten Athrien's mood just a little.
"I managed to stop that, only to find that the priest turned into some sort of demon-c**-monstrosity and that Terrance turned into a golem of some sort shortly after. Now, I'm hoping you can help me shed some light on the situation with what followed. "

Athrien paused, both for dramatic effect (for something that quite possibly didn't need it) and because he needed to.
"The former priest said something like "Papa Nurgle sends his greetings" and proceeded to breathe some sort of dangerous, corrosive, agonizing gas at us. Now, since I wasn't more machine than man at the moment like Terry was, I breathed some of it in and passed out after much agony. I awoke to find the monstrosity no more, Terry gone, and myself in this state. "
Athrien adjusted his posture, pausing to hold his breath as he pulled away the medical mask to look at the inside of it. It appeared as if he was coughing up just a little bit of something rust-colored -- no doubt his blood, now tainted with this disease. After putting the mask back on, the pale man let out his breath.
"After some wandering, I arrived here. Charles had also asked me to relay anything I found out about the situation back to him, so if I have your permission to do so, I'll let him know about what went down."
After all, Charles wasn't his primary employer. Athrien was more than likely going to tell the poor soul out of sympathy either way, however.

[Betty Beelzeboop]

Guildhall Ward: The Dark Swan <<<

Lovi folded her arms over her chest and maintained a placid expression as Athrien explained his discoveries. Some were indeed worth the money she owed him for the effort. Others were far less than pertinent to her cause.
She had to take a moment a consider whether or not to pursue the matter, and if so, how. The guild mother certainly wanted to act on behalf of the fallen, but doing so had gotten her into far worse situations before. Brash as she would have preferred to be, she couldn't incite a vendetta against something she didn't truly understand. She had many other girls to think about; living ones who would sooner preserve themselves in light of all that had happened in the past year.

She accepted the slip of paper with the address and observed it for a moment. Then crumpled it in her hand, the paper now tightly wrapped within her fist, which she held to her chin and mouth. She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow in contemplation before turning to her momentary assistant (the working girl who had informed her of the visitor) and nodding in an inexplicable sign of confirmation.

"Would you kindly stop by my office and bring this man his due payment?" she requested of the young woman, who went about the job readily. Now Lovi looked to the sickly, or so he seemed, sell sword with a little more sympathy in her eyes. Just a little, though.

"...Thank you. I'm sorry to have sent you into such danger," she remarked, noting in the back of her mind that she had done so quite unknowingly at the time, "And, quite unfortunately, our healer has taken a leave of absence.." And she really didn't know when said healer, an Avion woman by the name of Iris, would return.

The girl returned with a satchel of gold. Most gaians seemed to function on credit these days (and with the weight of such a currency, who could blame them), but Lovi preferred to deal in cash transactions. After all, most clients paid in such a manner as would not be traced back to the guild of courtesans. The girl offered the man his payment and was off on her own way once again. Such is the convenience of nameless characters.

"I pray you see a doctor or someone of that nature strait away. And I'm afraid that without knowing the nature of your illness, I must ask you to leave for the time being," her tone was apologetic, but quite serious, "I can't have my girls exposed to something on the chance that it may be contagious." Yep. Thanks and get out was about all she could think to say to this person. Maybe it was too much of her to assume, but Athrien did himself no favors by sticking around and evading medical or magical help one way or another. Besides, he was a frightful sight for anyone who happened across him, let along under this particular circumstance.

Should he seek the portly old man, good Mr. Hellman, he would be met with a second reward for his efforts. And a far more generous one at that. But, like Lovi and the whole of her guild, he would not be welcome in that home for long. One could only trust a stranger so far in the city, and Athrien was about as strange as they came.

[Athrien Gothril]

arrow The Lady's Ward -- Chasing Shadows

Lady Gilaen

"...Thank you. I'm sorry to have sent you into such danger"

Athrien gave a wheezy chuckle, accepting the sack of coins with a bow of the head when it arrived.
"Not a problem, Madame Lovi -- If I'm not dying, I'm not living.
I'm sure I could have gone to a priest or something and had them heal me up nicely.. but I don't think I'll be going to any churches any time soon here."
Fortunately, a decent amount of healing magic was all he needed to get fixed -- in theory. At least now he had the money to seek out any magical help. With another bow of the head and no interest in the Swan's services, Athrien quickly made his way for the door.
"Of course I'll get out of your hair, madame! I wasn't planning on doing anything else. Thank you for your time, and I hope to be of more use to you in the future."
Assuming this money was going to last him the night, or hopefully the week.

After making his way out, the rogue would then near-immediately zip over to the Helman Estate, taking advantage of the larger shadows that came with the passing day. Since there were no objections to his offer, Athrien would pop out of a lamppost near the familiar building and proceed to insert the coins into his firearm, which happily and soundlessly accepted them. After finishing up with his brief deposit into his firearm, Athrien would then also slide the small sack into the gun. Now there was less reason to mug the man with no coinage on him! A jiggle of the shotgun was enough to brighten the zombified man's mood somewhat. The resultant lack of sound from the gun was, apparently, a desired one.

His fortune now secured, Athrien made his way to the Helman doors and gave them a firm knock. It was probably suspicious that a man like Ath would be coming to such a lofty place (now that he was out of "disguise" ), but hopefully the mystery of the Helman Estate seeing frequent activity would be of more note to any onlookers.
"Sir Helman, I come bearing news!"

After a minute or so, the butler from before would open the door to peek outside at the familiar voice. The gasp of surprise, closing of the door, and sound of running footsteps from behind the door came as no surprise to Athrien. He was probably the only person in the ward that would give himself a chance. A pained sigh preceded his following line;
"For what it's worth, I'm not after that which ain't there. I've only got maybe a half-paragraph worth of info t'report, I'll be out of your home after that. "
After another half-minute or so, the door would open more widely this time and Athrien would find himself in the Helman Estate a second time. After a quick retelling of the few events that were new to the heavyset owner of the house, Athrien would find himself leaving the building with a chunkier purse.

Which he then, naturally, emptied into his shotgun. With that done, the weakened man began to pace towards the Market Ward, hoping to find a reasonable healer amid the throngs of services provided in the ward.

[Vintrict]

Eternal_Slumberer

Rhiven Knight

((Been working all week, so sorry for the wait.))

The warehouse doors opened, a truck pulling out onto the street. Inside of it sat the driver and a security person from Mitchell's sitting in the passenger's side. The exterior of the truck was armored, a detail that it was a classified and important shipment coming through. Normally, no one tried to mess with these types of transports, mainly due to the trouble they'll endure.

"Another night," said the driver, who seemed flustered having to drive himself through portals just to deliver a shipment of weapons.

The passenger replied: "Just be thankful it's peaceful. You should have been here months ago where explosions and attacks were going all over the place."

"I wouldn't mind something like that to spice up my nights. Nothing but long drawn out rides all day and night."

The truck proceeded along the road through the nightly and empty Market Ward.

((Eternal, your character's driving, so you'll be the one to move us there. Rhiven, you can still post. Assume we're on our way there.))

[Mr Books]

The Black Swan was such a prodigious looking place for such an underground profession. A service that so few mouths would admit to tasting, apple and peach ciders sodden on the most regular tongues. Whether the impressive presence of the building was a sight of disgust or destination for excitement, it was thankfully easy to find. Yes, thankfully so. Thankful in the case of one man among many, yet individual in his reason if one thought about it in an even slightly cynical light. While the common visitor would seek satiation, the tired and ragged traveler approaching the gates sought salvation, thought still of a bodily sort. He scrapped his scraps of shoes and trouser hems across the stone moving up the walk to the mansion. His eyes were so acutely focused forward that he might have lost track of the mansion were it not so outspoken in his peripheral vision. Before the gates, he stopped. He leaned his pained weight on the seemingly simplest rod of iron that stood to his torso from the ground, wrapped in cloth at the point he held it. He wasn't dressed to any custom but his own function and wiles. One could only say that his shoes 'used' to look like a sturdy pair of black travelers boots and his pants were dyed brown in trail dust and patterned in mismatched patchwork. His coat was all in one piece as far as thick cord could help it along the sleeves and through some of the buttons. It was grey with black ancestry and was storied with damage along the lower ends. To see all this, it was a surprise that his egg colored undershirt was so clean, not a drip or crumb of meals or mistreatment gone by. Across his coat, a leather harness heald his chest captive. The front lashed a book to his chest, the back was a selection of clasps and hooks that supported the suspension of long, steel latched case that swung just behind his shaking thighs.

Getting to the front entry of the estate, he turned with a dry mouth towards the building. As if her were an artist come to capture it's imagine, he sat down in front of the scene. His case swung eagerly to seat him so his rump met the leather of the case instead of the less accommodating sidewalk. He scratched through his reddish beard and arranged his brownish hair like he was taking the stage. Confidence filled his distinctively brown eyes as he vaulted his knees to a stand. He then ceremoniously fell forward in a heap, his face disturbing the dust with his groan. He really did look like a husk of starved troubles as his eyes rolled shut.

[Betty Beelzeboop]

Guildhall Ward: The Dark Swan <<<

Commotion arose at the arrival of a new and quite peculiar visitor now passed out on the front lawn. A patchwork of a person, he might not have been noticed were it nighttime in the city. Fortunately the sun had risen to bring forth a new day and one of the few working girls maintaining use of the guild in such off-hours had caught sight of him from an upper floor window.
The sight was, to say the least, alarming to the young woman whom had witnessed his extravagantly drawn out fall. She rushed from her room to the lower floors of the guild, breathily calling out to any who would hear.

"Call for help! He's hurt!" she announced in passing without so much as an elaboration on whom, where, why or whatever reason any of them had to care. A few girls emerged from their rooms, clad mostly in garments befitting their profession, and followed after the panicked woman in similar states of confusion. Others rolled their eyes and went back to whatever had preoccupied their interests before. Clearly these little outbursts were not entirely uncommon.

With luck, or lack there of depending on one's perspective, one of the other working girls passed by the Guild Mother's office door and peeked in with an abrupt notification of the incident.

"Somebody's passed out in the yard again," she spoke flatly, the skepticism so thick in her voice it might have dripped from her lips like honey.

"Are they alright?" Lovi inquired from her perched position behind an inexplicably large desk.

"Dunno," was the response, "Better have a look."

By the casual manner in which she stood from her chair, even taking the time to push it in before moving to the door, it was quite certain that these occurrences were familiar, if not totally common. She joined the others on the lawn, most of which gathered around the fainted gentleman at a distance while one or two tried to coax him awake. They cleared a path for Lovi, who knelt down beside the man.

"Drunk?" she inquired to the women surrounding them, but none seemed to have an answer. She set a firm hand on his shoulder and shook as gently out of courtesy.

"Hey," she was a little loud in addressing him, "Wake up. Sir, are you alright? Do we need to call you a cab.. an ambulance?"

[Mr Books]

Guildhall Ward: The 'Black' Swan <( ^-^ < wink

" Grfrundrfrdm." The collapsed pedestrian of presently pitiful prowess grumbled through the vent of his gravity smothered mouth. He did not sound greatly concerned about his predicament, or state of being, though there was a ting of bent pride in his throat. Shakily, he palmed the earth and gave a steady push. " Something closer to a proper noun would suffice. My name, Halinder, for example grrf." He wearily reached back and dragged his hand across the strange orchestra of ticking latches and stretching leather straps. Without so much as a pause in his hands sweep, they all came undone. The human length travel case rolled with the characteristics unbecoming of a gaudy rectangle it was and bounced off the back of his boots. Free from it's weight, the man felt free to rotate his tanning and dirt gathering, rolling onto his back. Looking up into the alluring faces and less modest regions that the escorts' garments weren't really designed to hide all so well, even less so from his angle, the man seemed to glow a healthy red past the dirt on his face.

" Did I just crack my head open? Am I dead and in heaven...of dear. Or are you about to grow horns and start ripping out my entrails." The man grunted with a charming delirium. " Oh..wait. Yes, it's a brothel isn't it. I suppose some of you go either way. Ehehheheheeee. Oh goodness." He threw back his hair and gave his eye sockets a stretch as he tried to see past the glare skipping along his vision like a fairy. Once it had cleared and he could catch the face of his interrogator, he grinned with defiantly white teeth. " Hello Lovi. How nice to see you. Can I stay for awhile." his request came just moments before a much less friendly demand in the form of an unhealthy gurgle from his belly. It was not a growl, not even having it's humor. It was truly sickly and his body showed it. The man convulsed, spitting a hiss as precious strength was forcibly wasted on a tense of pain before he crumbled altogether. He was out like a light after that.

[Betty Beelzeboop]

Guildhall Ward: The (******** you, this is my crazy made-up bullshit) Dark Swan <<<

"You.." Lovi remarked, entirely confused at the sudden and somehow familiar visitor making more than acquaintances with the dirt beneath them. It had been a long time since she'd seen that face. Longer still since she'd heard that predictable humor that suited him all too well. How did he get here, or more to the point, why?

Such questions were altogether wasted on the deaf ears of an unconscious body, and really didn't matter in the long run anyway. Lovi had met a number of strange or eccentric individuals in her lifetime. She was bound to encounter some of them on more than one occasion and in more than one place in the entirety of this world (and possibly others). Lovi had very few real friends that she could speak of, and this Halinder was no exception, but he was..well, he was something.

She propped an elbow on her bent knee and sighed in vague irritation as she looked him over. Best silence that wailing stomach as soon as he'd had some time to rest.

"Would you mind bringing a pitcher of water and something to eat up to the third floor room at the far end of the hall?" she addressed the young woman who'd come out in such a panic. With a nod of confirmation in turn, she scooped the fallen man into her arms and carried him to the aforementioned destination with ease. The girls knew well enough to gather his belongings and bring them at least as far as the entryway before splitting off to simply forget about the brief commotion once more. Few things could hold their collective interest for too long after all.

Lovi left her sort-of-friend to rest in what was currently an open room. He would eventually awake to a warm bed, food, and the chance to wash off the layer of dirt and grime that had likely been there for some time. She'd left him to sleep in his somewhat filthy clothes, having resolved that her kindness only went so far.. She wasn't his damned nurse. If he wanted proper care and some level of treatment, then he should have passed out in front of a hospital.

[Mr Books]

Guildhall Ward: The Dark Swan. <;

" Urrrff. " The drowsy and beaten down Halinder opened his eyes sparingly. He didn't question where he was, taking on a secure, if weak smile. He let his body take up the warmth of the bed for just a few more seconds of comfort before the food drew him in. His mouth opened for greed, but his teeth closed humbly on only a morsel. He knew better then to test his stomach so soon. He ate cautiously and found that he could not finish everything, even after wetting it with drink. His cleanliness came second to his stomach. He was rinsed to a less offensive state after an hour of tedious washing. Halinder was not a unclean man by habit. In fact, his entire condition at present was not to character. It was a long story that he wished someone would tell him. The last thing he could think to see too, seeing as neither his walking iron or travel case had made it this far, was his boots. Feeling strong enough to hum, he started to work out some random tune and sat beside the bath. It pained him, but he wrenched off his boots, flinging one to the wall by accident. He silently hoped whoever shared the wall was not disturbed. Neatly setting the boots on the bathroom rug, which likely had seen much more offensive things than dirty boots, he spit on the tip of each boot. With each, he dragged a local rag and drew circles across the leather. The material shivered and stretched as all the dirt was whipped away, as were the holes. Through some obviously magical means, the practice of cleaning the boots restored them to something used see in a shop window. This enchantment did not seem to extend to his other clothing. Those articles only seemed to get more tramp like when spit or water was dabbed to them.

Letting time pass, he tried eating again, finishing anything too soft or wet to survive travel in his pocket. Anything dry, like a loaf of bread, was put in his pocket to keep him nourished during his exploration of the Dark Swan. He opened the door and scanned the hall.

[Betty Beelzeboop]

Guildhall Ward: The Dark Swan <<<

The guild was remarkably calm, but still active in the daytime hours. It was far different from the brothel Lovi had come from so long ago in Torden. The workers there didn't always live in the mansion, though they were welcome to use it when and if their external resources ran thin. They were all independent from one another and served the guild through regular payments to utilize its resources. As much as Lovi preferred to have her makeshift family close to her, she also wanted them to be able to stand strong on their own.

The halls were generally quiet with the occasional chime of distant laughter or conversation mixed in with the type of rhythmic tunes one generally expected of the place. The atmosphere was relaxed.. A rare occurrence for the guild after having become the subject of more than one personal vendetta for some reason or another.
Halinder might have noticed that portions of the upper floors were much newer than others. This was not necessarily an aesthetic choice.

[Mr Books]

Halinder did notice, and took note. He had only ever heard of Lovi's burgeoning success as a rumor and really only guessed at it being her from the direction he last saw her moving. Even the name Dark swan was a recent discovery, one he wished he'd made before he was in such a state. Meeting old acquaintances at such different ends of the spectrum of 'got their s**t together'-ness came with an unavoidable pang of guilt. But that was in spite of understanding. Halinder at least believed he had a proper excuse for his current bum status.

Dreary and confused self pity aside, Halinder was intrigued by this place. He didn't have much doubt that Lovi had attained it through some spectacular means that he would beg her to regale him with. Yes, for a former( though possibly still practicing) lady of the evening, a mansion was an excellent conversation piece. He'd make a note of complimenting her on it when he actually found her. He followed behind a departing client to seek out the main hall. He was a bit hot under the collar by then. All the soft ladies wandering about and just the knowing of what went on under such a roof made his blood rush. At the main hall, he searched for a means of direction. He'd resort to asking directly when his patience with himself had thoroughly run out.

[Lian Feaorne]

Ladies Ward--Lian's Manor

Lian was a little more along with her pregnancy and of course, fussed with putting any form of clothing on. She settled with a black, slightly stretchy pencil skirt, a green button up shirt with a vest and her one doctor's coat. She had been asked, through a surprising phone call, to attend to someone they found passed out. A hospital would have probably charged them but for Lovi, she was happy to make hose calls. She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her doctor's bag and headed out. Her gate still hadn't been fixed, so she stepped over the pile of rubble. The Dark Swan wasn't far so she strutted through the Ladies Ward. There, she had learned soon enough, the lifestyle she lived was quite scandalous against those who hand hundreds of servants, drivers, twenty cars and one hundred motorcycles. Lian loved her big home, but she lived simply. It was all she knew.

As she passed into the Guildhall, she started to feel a strong craving. She stopped for a few doughnuts and coffee, taking them with her as she moved along. Once at the Dark Swan, she let herself pass on in but stopped at the bottom floor to sit for a second, out of breath and partially munching on a doughnut. Waving one of the girls down, she panted. "Where's this person I was called about for?"She said as she wolfed down the rest of the doughnut, chugged the coffee and tossed the trash away. After ward, she headed up stairs and her heavy footfalls could be heard by those in the hallway.