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Post by Xaviere on Oct 15, 2017 9:37:29 GMT
Everything about this job was difficult. The manor was large, and well-guarded. The defenses were substantial, from the rumours of a hellhound to the deadbolted doors. The staff were numerous, and loyal either out of fear or greed. The master of this house, after all, was both famously ruthless and famously rich. Xaviere did not like to consider what might happen should the job go wrong. But after Lazarus had run through the details with her, again and again from many different angles, different perspectives, it had clearly been a job tailormade for her skillset. The one downside was the Daemons purported lack of interest in women - who knew what truth lay behind the rumours, but Xaviere did like to be able to fall back on seduction to get herself out of a tight spot.
Best not get into any tight spots in the first place, then.
She wore a loose, flowing charcoal dress that fell nearly to the ground, belted at the waist with a fine chain of wrought silver. A matching silver circlet pulled long pale locks back from an elegant, heart-shaped face, and fine silver slippers with soft soles adorned her feet. The bracelets she wore encircled slim wrists nearly to her elbows. Tonight she was dressed for attending a play, the silver jewellery designed to match her wings, the outfit pretty and flattering though less overtly sexual than what she normally chose. But it served a purpose, allowing her to slip out of the side door of the theatre at intermission, to weave the air around her into a shield that rendered her invisible, and to climb unseen and unheard into a second story window of the building next door left open by a young woman seeking some fresh air. It would not have been an issue had the silent intruder not possessed such magic that allowed her to be unseen, but then this was the perfect skill for an assassin.
Fortunately, it was not the master of this house himself she sought. She would never have taken such a job, but nor would Lazarus have asked it of her. Inciting dangerous political strife wasn't in his wheelhouse, and attempting to assassinate the Eldest Daemon would certainly do that. No, though she did seek someone high within his household staff. A footman, ranking below a butler but above most of the other staff, had been dabbling in selling to the gangs. He had a supply of fine liquor which Lazarus suspected he was stealing from his employer, and which was undercutting one of Lazarus' most profitable businesses. The King of Thieves did not take well to this kind of intrusion on his territory, and more subtle warnings had gone unheeded. Now, a stronger message was warranted. This footman was at the centre of the outfit, but any he was working with ought to take his death as a strong suggestion they ply their trade elsewhere.
She found him sampling the wines he intended to steal in the cellar. The man was tall and broad-chested, still wearing his livery from serving at dinner, and halfway drunk. Xaviere hated wine cellars - they were dark stone rooms with a single entrance and exit, much too close and claustrophobic for a Sky Fairy and risky in terms of getting caught. But she might also not have such an opportunity as this again. Still invisible, she slipped in and pulled the door closed without quite latching it. Then, like a vision, she shimmered into being. And when she did, her knife was already between his ribs. The wine bottle in his hand fell to the ground and smashed, and the deep maroon liquid mingled with his blood as she held her hand over his mouth to stifle his screams.
But damn that wine bottle! She only had two hands, one to shut him up and one to hold the knife. The crash of breaking glass made her cringe and she pulled the blood stained knife out of the striken man's heart as he staggered then slumped, blood trickling from his mouth now from a pierced lung. Practiced, easy, she lowered his body while he was in his death throes and cut off his wheezing with a swift jab of the knife to his throat, destroying the vocal chords. Then, she turned, ready to leave...only to find the door swinging open.
Well, shit.
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Oct 15, 2017 16:45:52 GMT
Ahman was pissed.
One of his foot soldiers had left his post, and that was unacceptable. As an employer, he was less likely to kill the man that to give a warning, but regardless he was still livid. As generous as he was with money with those that worked for him, Ahman detested anyone that did not have the faintest bit of respect. He did not expect anyone under him to like him, but just to at least do their damn jobs. When Ahman had asked his partner where the man went, the man easily cracked under pressure from the eldest daemon and told him exactly where he went. Into a wine cellar! The gall.
He was dressed rather casually, even for him. A nice, wool robe fell down to his ankles, the base color a beautiful shade of dark plum and decorated with embroidered specs of blue. The edges of the robe were silver, and used to tie it around his waist was a finely woven silver rope. For shoes, he wore only the most comfortable knee-high boots made from the finest of leather workers in Spirit, though despite how expensive they were he still considered them casual.
As he was headed to the wine cellar, the rest of his servants could see the look of anger in his eyes and quickly moved out of the way. Hound, the vicious yet tamed beast that he only used for intimidation and, occasionally, killing, was trotting behind him to keep up, panting. Dark tendrils of shadows swirled around his feet and mouth, giving off a presence that seem almost from a different land.
There was the sound of a crash, and immediately Ahman frowned. What the hell was that bastard doing? If angered enough, Ahman would kill him himself.
Blood red eyes flashing dangerously, he opened the door just enough so that Hound could go in first, then swung it fully open for himself. What he saw was not even close to what he expected.
Hound immediately snarled and vocalized, making some sort of weird, deep throat-ed bark that even made the hairs on Ahman’s arm and neck stand up. There was his foot soldier, dead and bleeding on the floor, with broken glass underneath him and a woman, the killer no doubt, dressed very formally for something so brutal and savage.
Ahman did not hesitate. His fangs and claws fully extended, eyes more like a dangerous, wild animal than a dignified, rich daemon. He took a few steps forward, closing the door behind him as he did, and furrowed his brow as he locked eyes with the women. There was an almost animalistic like urge to shoot forward to restrain her, but that was so…primitive, and he liked to think of himself as being more dignified than most daemons that acted more like wild dogs than people.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, killing my men?” It came out more as a hiss than he meant, but he really was irked. “Give me a good reason why and maybe I won’t rip your damn throat out and feed your windpipe to Hound.” Did he really care about the foot soldier that much? Not at all. But Ahman did not tolerate disrespect, and from his current view point, that’s what it was. It was odd, though, that someone like that man had been targeted rather than Ahman himself. The guy was no one special, so why?
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Post by Xaviere on Oct 16, 2017 8:02:21 GMT
It wasn't like she hadn't been threatened before. So, even though the hellhound was an admittedly terrifying beast and the Daemon wasn't much better, flashing his claws and fangs all over the place, she didn't panic. She'd already sheathed the knife somewhere hidden beneath the folds of her dress but she was still holding the man's now-slumped body aloft by the hair so, after a moment of hesitation, the let him go and side-stepped neatly so he could fold in two, blood now flowing freely from his mouth. At the same time she raised both hands, an instinctive gesture of appeasement.
She had two choices, she figured, thinking fast.
The first was magic. Sky fairies harnessed the power of the air and wind, and a sonic boom at this range would burst the Daemon's ear drums. It wouldn't kill him, probably, but it would hurt. And people were generally pretty distracted when they temporarily lost their hearing and started bleeding from the ears. She only needed a few moments to get away - once she was out the door, turning invisible would allow escape. But there were a couple of problems with this plan - first, would a hellhound be affected like a person? It worked on animals - it should work on anything with eardrums in theory - but it wasn't like there were so many hellhounds around that she'd ever tried it. Anyway, a lot more concerning was unleashing that kind of energy - a rapid expansion of compressed air - in an underground stone chamber. Just how well built was this place, anyway? Did she want to test it out? Few things could be more devastating than for a Sky Fairy to be buried beneath tons of earth and stone. If the crush injuries didn't kill her, the separation from the flowing air currents that were her very life's breath just might.
So, second choice then. Start talking, and hope she could talk her way out of this. She knew very little of this Ahman outside of his public persona, which wasn't exactly flattering. He was an exacting, brutal master though. And this was a very well stocked wine cellar. Some of the bottles were decades old - maybe he was even a collector. Gods, she hoped so. All this ran through Xaviere's mind in just a few seconds and suddenly the appeasing and startled Fae, alarmed to be caught, was replaced by someone far...sassier. The Fairy straightened and tossed her hair over her shoulder, folding her arms over her chest. Never mind that she was a foot shorter than the Daemon - she looked positively withering as she sized him up, heavily outlined eyes cool and appraising in an expression that could only be described as disdainful.
"What the hell do I think I'm doing? You a favour, actually. Unless you're on board with your own staff stealing from you." Xaviere nudged the dead man with her foot and his body flopped to the side, limp and heavy.
"He's been nicking all your nice wine and selling it to the Spirit gangs. He was undercutting my employer and needed to be removed, but it seems as though I've done your dirty work for you." Xaviere sauntered closer, ignoring the hellhound in the favour of affecting an air of supreme confidence. Ugh...she hated dogs. But she smiled at the Daemon - smirked, really, a playful glint to her eyes as she tilted her chin defiantly.
"You're welcome."
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Oct 17, 2017 1:05:52 GMT
Ahman watched her careful, very aware that she had the capability to escape in some manner. What was the question, and there was were infinite types of magic that she could possess if she even used it much. Still, something about the way she was calculating the situation and watching him gave off the vibe that she was not too worried. Her entire daemenor changed once her assessment of the situation seemed to change, but Ahman hadn’t taken his eyes off of her, looking down with a disdainful and even annoyed look.
Her response was one that intrigued him though, as it was somewhat unexpected. So she did him a favor? The gall of her to assume. The vampire was very aware of those that were skilled at using their tongue, and she was no stranger to it. Everything that came out of her mouth was weaved to sound like everything was done for his benefit, though he was sure that was far from the case.
“Ha! You might want to watch your tongue. I can’t say you’re in a good spot to have so much cheek.” It was a rare occurrence to see the eldest daemon smile, and he was laughing. The gall that she had, to even say ‘You’re welcome’ was hilarious to him.
He did consider what she was saying a bit though, and there was truth in her words. Ahman had been noticing a decrease in his spirits, but he’d assumed that when Nev was there, he’d taken whatever he wanted. This made a bit more sense, though he suspected that the damn witch kid was still taking drinks. “I honestly can’t say I care that much for him. He left his post to begin with. Slackers don't get any pay.” The smile had faded, and his face was now back to its normal, more composed and perpetually angry look. “I’m more concerned with the mess.” He sighed and snapped his fingers. Hound stopped its pacing and looked at its master, who motioned for it to leave and it complied. The vampire was not found of animals in general himself, but the thing was so insanely obedient and needed nothing in return that it was slightly useful. Its pacing was bothering him.
“Let’s not pretend that you did this for me in any way though. I suppose you’re lucky that he just so happened to be a nuisance. But life is funny like that, is it not?” Ahman’s fangs had retracted as did his claws. He was fully confident that if need be, he could still kill her if she tried anything, but Ahman was willing to bet that she wouldn’t. If she were a local, or even from The City, his name, description, and location did get around quite easily.
Without thinking much of it, he ignored how close and confident the fae woman presented herself and grabbed a random bottle from the racks. It was a dark wine, one of his favorites that had been sitting in there for at least ten or so years. “Now that you’re here though, and not dressed like a complete mongrel, care to join me for a drink?” It was not completely out of character for him to do such a thing. Ahman was fond of company that had good taste, and at first glance, the woman seemed to have some good taste when it came to dressing herself at least. Perhaps that expanded to more than just clothing. That and he did need to expand his network a bit more. If she was paid to kill someone, then that person had money and Ahman was immediately interested.
“I’ll get a servant to clean this mess. Regardless, you are free to leave if you so choose. I have to at least show those that I employee that I care enough to take care of them, I suppose.”
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Post by Xaviere on Oct 22, 2017 21:56:04 GMT
Xaviere was fully aware she was in a less-than-ideal position, but she didn't intend to confirm the Daemon's assessment of this. If he was going to retaliate to her sneaking into his house and assassinating his footman, she was going down fighting, and an edge of tension remained in her posture and expression as the Daemon spoke. It wasn't scared, though, that she was feeling. More like wary, with good reason, and still very much hoping she wasn't about to find herself added to this man's extensive collection of slaves.
"Left his post to nick your wine. And drink it, he was half cut by the time I got here. So a crap footman and a crap underhanded businessman. The only ones likely to miss him are the gangs, now they won't have an easy supply of your nice booze at mate's rates." Emphasise what he'd been losing, and that he was now not Ahman's problem. Hope this would continue to assuage the Daemon's anger. Xaviere breathed an internal sigh of relief when the claws and fangs were sheathed - Daemons looked so savage when their natural weaponry was out.
She didn't try to push the matter further, though. Ahman was right that she hadn't actually been interested in helping him out at all - her assassination of the footman had been entirely selfish, and the Daemon wasn't stupid enough to believe otherwise. Unfortunately. Stupid people were easier to manipulate; only the men who were entranced by female sexuality were easier, and Ahman was neither of these things. She was surprised, then, to be offered a drink instead of a cell, and hesitated for a moment. A trick? Even if so it was an improvement upon her current situation. If she could just get out of this damn cellar, maybe she'd have an easier time slipping away...
"A drink would be appreciated. You can consider it payment for my services." She grinned, ignoring his earlier suggestion that she not be quite so cheeky. She couldn't help it, especially when Ahman made it clear she could leave. Interesting...maybe she really was off the hook. And, though it was still risky, this might be a contact worth having in the future. He was the Eldest Daemon, had a direct line to the Daemon Lord, and had an awful lot of power in his own right. He was absurdly wealthy and ran a thriving business in Spirit. More good might come out of this than expected so, she thought, a drink might just be worth hanging around for. Especially if his wine collection was as good as was rumoured.
"I'm Xave, by the way." Nicknames only, of course. A Fae's true name was a carefully guarded secret, as he well knew. She'd heard all about his preference for Fae slaves once their true names had been tortured out of them.
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Oct 25, 2017 6:23:26 GMT
Ahman was no stranger to a play on words, and he could tell that the woman was purposely stating things to be in his favor, as to no doubt ensure an easier escape or her survival, he was sure. Though he could see through it, he did appreciate the way she went about it. As he considered himself a more sophisticated sort (besides the occasional throat tear and random murder here and there), the vampire did tend to tolerate those with the skill to talk their way out of situations rather than fall onto vulgar language and violence, even if he was a daemon.
He could tell the momentary surprise she had at his offer, which led him to believe that she had some inclination of whom she was speaking to. Maybe. Though she’d done a messy task and had dirtied his cellar, she had taken away the burden of him getting his own hands dirty, however unintentional it was. If she wasn’t at least a little wary of his offer, then she would have been daft in his eyes.
Truth be told, Ahman was mostly just bored. Sure, he loved to make good coin and did enjoy politics, but it truly wasn’t every day that he came across someone that had (he assumed) a contract to kill a man that just so happened to be stealing his best drinks out from under him. This was also a way for him to really determine if she was even worth his time. If not, well. Most people under that category end up dead or as slaves.
Humor could only be taken so far with the eldest daemon though, and this time he did not chuckle at her witty comment about the drink being a payment. At the same time however, he did not frown or look bothered, more so just over it. His blood red eyes looked down at the corpse once more before he stepped around it with the wine bottle in hand. “I’m sure my lounge will be comfortable enough. There are other spirits up there as well, though these are the more fine drinks that I’ve saved through the centuries.” He turned his back to her then, fully confident that he had the ability to turn around quickly should he need to.
“Come then, Xave. I have a feeling I do not need to introduce myself, but you can call me Ahman.” It was not so much an egotistical remark as it was one he made from just intuition and judgement of her attitude and character.
The multitude of rings on his fingers clanked against the wind glass as he lead Xave up a set of narrow stares different from the ones she’d originally used to get down to the cellar, they appeared in a kitchen, where three servants were working on making food mostly for the guards and other servants, as well as leaving tiny rations for the to-be slaves.
Ahman ignored them, though they all acknowledged him briefly before returning to work. They went under a door arch and, with one more turn around a corner, came to his lounge.
The room was massive and very well decorated. Massive windows that looked out into the beautiful courtyard in the front had light, red drapes over them. There was a small, minibar off to the corner with a rack of drinks on it, and a cabinet next to it with separate bottles filled with blood. Directly opposite of where Ahman and Xave entered, there was a fireplace, though there was nothing burning now, and in front of it was a small, knee-high table and numerous comfortable and expensive couches. The floor was a dark wood-base, but a massive dark red carpet covered a large portion of it. Candle sticks for light were also dotted around the room. Over all, it was flashy, but completely Ahman.
He gestured to one of the seats. “Feel free to take a seat and pour yourself a drink. I need to speak with a servant to clean the mess downstairs.” Ahman momentarily walked away to grab one of the servants nearby, asking him to immediately head into the west wine cellar to clean up the dead body. As if it was part of the norm, the man merely nodded and went on his way and the daemon turned make his way over to where Xave was.
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Post by Xaviere on Nov 10, 2017 23:19:30 GMT
Xaviere said nothing, merely arched a brow at his introduction. As if she hadn't researched everything that was public record about him before setting foot in his house. Eldest Daemon, Vampire half-breed, slaver. Notoriously cold, detached, and while he clearly loved luxury, a loner despite all his many staff and slaves. Fabulously rich. Total asshole. She followed him through the house on silent feet, only the soft rustling of her dress marking her passage, and as she went she admired the place. Gods, if he wasn't a flashy bastard, but the manor was definitely the home of someone flush with gold. Even the staff, as they wandered through the kitchen, were tidily dressed, the kitchen large and well-stocked. As for the lounge - it could have passed for a small ballroom.
She enjoyed rifling through the collection of liquor bottles Ahman pointed her to, first of all. She uncorked and delicately sniffed a few, steering clear of drinks she already knew she didn't like - fiery whiskey, acidic tequila, bitter dark red wines. She eventually selected something pale green and fruit flavoured...melon, maybe? Delicate cocktail glass in hand, the Fairy draped herself over a soft velvet couch. Stretching out, legs crossed and arm over the armrest to prop her chin on, she made herself at home. Long white-blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders and she wore an expression of easy confidence, belying the remnants of some unease. She still wasn't sure how this would go; Ahman seemed to have forgiven the intrusion into his home, though she wondered if he would have questions about how she breached his security. And she knew what Daemons could be like - calm one second, murderous bloody sadists the next. It never did to get too relaxed around any of them, and Ahman wasn't just any Daemon.
Still, Xaviere liked luxury too, and she intended to enjoy whatever visit she'd wrangled out of this whole situation as much as possible. She noticed, and appreciated, the small details; the ambient temperature was just right for the flowing dress cut to bare her shoulders and collarbone, so she didn't feel cold. The room smelled, very faintly, of vanilla. There was no chatter from unruly servants; the room was quiet, but not unnaturally silent. And the lighting was soft and flattering, setting off pale skin and silver hair just nicely. Yes...she could get used to this.
"Do you invite everyone that breaks into your house up for a drink? I confess, I rather expected to find myself in a much less comfortable and pleasant dungeon."
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Nov 25, 2017 5:35:50 GMT
Ahman watched the woman’s movements carefully, all the while moving over to his own special cabinet of bottled blood. The tall wooden cabinet was made of a dark wood with intricate carvings of swirls and shapes along its borders. Once both doors were open, one could see an array of dark wine bottles, though none were filled with wine. Everything in the cabinet was blood related, some more dilute than others, and some better preserved with special herbal remedies, but also very old at the same time. Though his vampiric side did not rely so much on blood as it did spirit and energy, Ahman was addicted to it and could not go more than a few hours without it before getting in a bad mood. His addition was not so bad as to kill him should he stop suddenly, but it would put him in a very sour move.
The daemon grabbed one of the wine glasses that was in the cabinet with his bottles as well as a bottle labeled ‘Vintage: Aged 10 years’. Taking his time, completely aware that it was odd even for him to invite someone in that had just killed one of his employees, Ahman sat opposite the side of Xave where a small, long wooden table with the same intricate designs as his cabinet separated them. There was nothing on it save nicely designed cloth and a shinning silver tray with empty glasses on it.
The corner of Ahman’s mouth twitched upwards into a very brief smirk at the question. He poured his glass, letting the silence stay for a moment as he brought the blood to his lips and took a moderate sip, his eyes flashing with satisfaction at the familiar sweet iron taste. “The only dungeon I have is for slaves in the making, and I’m afraid they’re all filled up. So a dungeon would not have been the route I would have taken.” The deeper meaning behind his words was quite obvious, but it was more a matter of fact statement than any form of intimidation.
“It’s true, you’re not the only one to ever break in and I don't let many leave, but it’s a rare occasion when it happens. I’ve yet to have anyone kill someone under me though, rather than try to kill me or to steal my possessions and coin. Most tend to grovel or spit in my face and, well. I’m sure you could imagine how that went with them.” Raising his glass again, he took another sip and additionally raised his hand for a servant.
A young man rushed over and Ahman instructed him to bring some fruit and bread from them to snack on. The servant bowed before rushing off to do as he was told. “Groveling and begging for one’s life is so…predictable and boring. So is not being afraid of death and torture and blah blah. In my hundreds of years of life and success though, I cannot say I’ve come across your gall nearly as often.” Ahman had to admit to himself, he was…curious about Xave. The way she held herself so confidently was not at all regal or sophisticated, but more…elegant. She was obviously some form of assassin no doubt, and she had to have some set of skill to sneak past his servants and guards. Part of Ahman was also interested in hearing who hired her. For a job like the one she just performed, it had to be someone with money and status.
The servant returned with a plater filled with all forms of fruits as well as some bread. He laid it out on the table between Ahman and Xave and went back to his post. The daemon leaned over and plucked a few raspberries and threw one into his mouth. “I am curious to know. How did you get in?” There was an underlying tone in his voice that had a hint of danger behind it, as if he dared her to refuse telling him that much considering he’d just spared her life. Well, so far.
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Post by Xaviere on Feb 6, 2018 8:38:36 GMT
Xaviere was not particularly flustered by the man's preference for drinking blood before fine wine. She kept rough company, down in the City of Thieves, after all. Nor was she ruffled by the implied violence behind his description of over-full dungeons; instead, she rolled one shoulder in an easy shrug, smiled in a benign and knowing way.
"All full up with future slaves? It seems their misfortune is to my benefit, then." This, in fact, had been Xaviere's main fear should she get caught. Naturally the Eldest Daemon could have lashed out, killed her in a brief but violent tussle, but at least it would have been over and done with quickly. No, far worse was finding one tortured into giving the key to perfect control away to a sadistic master. Far worse, for someone as prideful as her, to be reduced to slavery and stripped of her dignity.
"I'm not stupid enough to try and kill the Eldest Daemon." There, amongst the silvered words, the flattery, the pantomime, a sliver of honesty. The Fae could not lie, but this wasn't nearly so helpful as it sounded - in most cases it rendered them masters of half-truths, of leaving important details out, of weaving meandering tales or creating carefully curated personas. Like the one Xaviere took now, lounged on Ahman's flash furniture, appearing utterly relaxed instead of wondering if he was going to kill her. Maybe that touch of the truth would balance out said gall. But, to be fair, the cheek was all part of the act - an act so carefully and thoroughly honed that Xaviere wondered how much, now, it was really her after all.
She did not hurry to answer his next question. Leaning forward, long silver hair tumbling in loose waves over her shoulder, she selected a few fresh green grapes and popped one into her mouth. It was sweet, refreshing, like the melon drink only less sugared. She didn't intend to conceal the information Ahman had asked for from him, though. She merely meant to reinforce that she wasn't afraid of him, and that although she didn't actually have much of a choice about attending this conversation, how that conversation went was on her terms as well as his.
"I attended a performance at the theater across the alley from the southern side of your property. During intermission, I slipped out for some fresh air, went for a little walk, and climbed the wall into your grounds. One of your servants - and I truly do not know which one, although their room suggested they are female - had their window open. I climbed in." This, of course, was standard for an assassin - moving and climbing soundlessly were skills she'd mastered years ago. However, it was not nearly enough for a place like Ahman's. The hellhound was one thing, but the man also had guards aplenty patrolling the grounds at all hours. He wouldn't for a second think that was all there was to it, and he'd be right.
"I turned invisible somewhere in the alley, by the way. That helped."
Xaviere didn't often give up her tricks to just anyone who asked, but avoiding telling Ahman this much seemed difficult. Considering he hadn't killed her for her intrusion, she supposed he was owed that much at least.
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Feb 7, 2018 4:28:52 GMT
Swirling the wine glass in his hands in a nonchalant manner, Ahman’s tone of voice raised with interest at the mention of his slave stock. Though his personally took no satisfaction in making slaves and felt rather indifferent to it, he did enjoy talking about his success to other people, regardless of who they were. Had Xave mentioned a distaste towards slavery however, he would have made himself purposely seemed more a sadist that enjoyed the process just to unnerve her. This did not seem to be the case however, she he was content to not be a bully in that regards. “Yes, as a matter of fact.” He let that sink in a bit as he relaxed his posture more while still showing his eloquent composure. “Business tends to boom at this time of year. The weather conditions are harsh during the winter in most of Litharia, and many slaves tend to die from the cold or from overdose on drugs that give a false impression that they feel warm. Or from…well, abusive owners, though that tends to happen year round. Anyways, my stocks tend to run low from high demand, thus I have no choice but to keep my holding cells full all winter long.” It was a profitable business if done correctly.
“In the Summer, I don’t need as much stock, though the demand from the Boil tends to rise above every other place’s needs. I assume it has to do with the opposite problem of slaves dying from the cold.” He did not much care for what the reason was, only that he made money. Whatever happened to the slaves after being purchased, he did not care to know the details.
He stopped mid-swirl of his wine glass, narrowing his eyes somewhat dangerously at Xave all the while frowning. Ahman did not like any kiss-up remarks. Though hers seemed to be more a matter of truth than the former, he was still not too keen on it. It was only for a moment that he held his composure as such however, before he went back to his more relaxed state, now sipping as his blood drink.
The moment was forgotten however, as Xave went on to explain how she managed to infiltrate his estate in the first place. Intrigued, the daemon leaned forward and looked off to the side, pondering. The first bit of information she gave him did not exactly add up. How was she able to sneak in without the servant seeing her? Sure, one had to be stealthy, but his halls were filled with guards. Ahman was just about to irritantly call her out on how her story did not add up completely until she included the last bit of information.
Ah, invisibility.
An uncommon, though not unheard of magical ability. That made much more sense, enough to make the daemon content enough to not get as irritated as he was about to be. “Even had you known the servant, I would not have done anything to harm her. I have a contract formed between myself and all of my servants to assure both my and their co-operation. They obey me without hesitation, and in turn I vow to not turn them into slaves or harm them in any way. This applied to the guardsmen as well, to help not incite mutiny as I’m sure you could imagine.” He added and emphasized this information to make it well aware that there was very little chance of his people ever turning completely against him. “Of course, should anyone break that contract, such as stealing my possessions, then all bets are off and I can do whatever I want to them. It’s probably a mercy that you killed that man before I found out about him making a profit off of my drinks. I would have not hesitated to make him a slave the rest of his life and sell him to the highest bidder.” Sometimes there were people like that man that broke contract, which was stupid for too many reasons in Ahman’s eyes. He paid them a lot of coin compared to the average human noble with their servants. To turn around and betray his hospitality deserved something worse than death.
“I will find the woman who made the mistake later and discuss the issue of carelessness with her, though it sounds like it was not entirely her fault anyways since you had an extreme advantage.” As Ahman had said, he had no intentions of hurting her as per the contract between him and the servant. What he would do was remained to be seen however.
His next question was something he was curious as to whether Xave would answer or not. She had been truthful to him thus far, no doubt to make it so he was in less of a murderous mindset even though he honestly had no intention of killing her. Still, he wanted to know. “I have to inquire; Who hired you? I have no intention of chasing anyone down, but it would have to be someone wealthy I would imagine. I doubt you would trade your unique and skillful abilities for cheap."
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Post by Xaviere on Apr 14, 2018 10:53:23 GMT
Xaviere had no interest in the ins and outs of running a slaving business. She waved one hand once he'd finished talking, a dismissive gesture to suggest he wasn't going to shock her with the things he said about his work. The only thing she was interested in was avoiding such a fate herself, and Ahman had been clear that wasn't what he had in mind for her. Thus far, the offer of a drink appeared to have been made in good faith; she didn't feel threatened, and although she would not relax completely - he was still a stranger - she seemed more and more at ease stretched out on his couch, head propped up on one hand, fine glass of mysterious liquor in hand.
"Indeed. She cannot really be blamed. Few would notice me under those circumstances." Deciding a little demonstration was in order, since there was no reason Ahman should take her at face value, Xaviere smiled at the Eldest Daemon and then...disappeared. There was a shimmer in the air, the only hint of something changing, and then she was completely invisible. A moment later the air shimmered again and she reappeared, sitting in a chair just to the left of her original chaise, legs crossed and drink still in hand.
"I could have gotten in by almost any route, probably, if it wasn't for that hell dog you keep." Figuring out how to avoid the hound had been one of the biggest challenges of the job.
The Fairy paused, though, at his next question. She was never truly still - part of being a Sky Fairy was the perpetual breeze that accompanied her. It continually stirred her hair, sent gentle, subtle ripples through the silken fabric of her dress. However, it dropped nearly to nothing as she considered how to answer. Xaviere would die before she betrayed Lazarus, but would this harm him? With enough digging Ahman could probably trace her back to Laz - though she was only deployed for specific jobs, and took as much care as she could to remain anonymous whenever possible, she was striking and memorable and not all jobs were quiet. This one certainly hadn't been. Lazarus had known the risks, and in the end she weighed her situation and decided to give him something.
"The King of Thieves. The underground liquor sales were impacting business." Ahman could have figured this out with reflection on why someone would kill his footman for stealing booze and selling it to the gangs, so it seemed pointless to try and obscure her employer. She didn't offer details, though, not even a name. She had no idea how much Ahman knew of Lazarus - she hadn't asked the Celestial. They could have even met, for all she knew.
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Apr 14, 2018 20:41:46 GMT
Ahman could tell that the woman was not very interested with the details of his work. He chuckled to himself. In a way, he was passionate about his business, but only as a way to make coin and nothing more. He got no satisfaction from destroying lives and forcing others into slavery. The people working for him did, but Ahman was a different sort of sadist.
He was mildly impressed by the confidence Xave had in her own abilities. The eldest daemon could appreciate an individual that was prideful. Ahman did not want a demonstration though, and he mostly just frowned as the woman completely disappeared, beyond the slight shimmer in the air. “Ah yes, Hound is quite talented and very useful. It does not even need to be fed. Found it when I about lost my hand one day. Might be worth investing in more of them now.” Ahman had no desire to get more of whatever Hound was though. “Or maybe not. I’m not very fond of….animals.” Though he appeared unimpressed by her actual abilities, Ahman did make a note to himself to keep her abilities in the back of his mind. She was obviously employed by someone, and most likely had some form of loyalty to him as silly as loyalty was. Even so, he was curious whether she would be willing to ever do some work for him, as long as it did not interfere with her other employer.
The daemon sipped at his drink as he waited for Xave to figure out her internal debate on whether she should tell him about her employer. The mere hesitation confirmed his suspicions that she held some loyalty to her employer. What a waste. Ahman’s people had no loyalty to him. Paying them was merely to keep mutiny from happening, rather than anything else.
The corner of his mouth raised in a smirk once she gave her response. Vague as it was, it was plenty of information. And Ahman felt it was smart for her to give a response. He may have lost all interest in her in that split second. “Makes sense. I’ve heard the title plenty of times before. Though I cannot say I’ve ever had much dealings with the underground or crime bosses personally. A different story might be said of those that do work for me.” Ahman shrugged while downing the last bit of his blood, showing that it is not such a big deal to him. If one of his own subordinates had wronged the crime boss, then that was the subordinate’s own fault. Ahman would have eventually killed the guy himself. He had little interest in getting involved with someone not nearly as dignified as Ahman himself. The “King of Thieves” in his mind was little more than a dirty rat that was good at what he did. Regardless that he did not know the figure himself, Ahman was judgmental before meeting nearly anyone.
“So.” He motioned for a servant with his hand to re-fill his glass for him. “Is this form of work what you mostly partake in then? Mostly assassinations, or are you paid to do other work?” While it might have sounded degrading, Ahman did not entirely intend it that way. At this point, it was more small talk for him. He had asked her what he wanted to know, and he had received his answers and was convinced to not bother killing her.
“Thank you for indulging my curiosity, even if it was not intentional. I assume you intend to report back to your employer? You are free to leave, as I’ve said before.”
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Post by Xaviere on Apr 14, 2018 21:09:54 GMT
Xaviere, for one, was glad Ahman had left the dog somewhere else when he'd invited her up for a drink. She hated dogs at the best of times, and a slavering, haunted-looking Hell beast was unlikely to change that opinion.
"More of them would have made it harder, yes," she admitted.
"But not impossible. I knew your staff would not keep the beast in their rooms." Here she was, giving away all her secrets. Then again, it wasn't like she could expect to hit his manor again, not any time soon and without a drastic overhaul of circumstances, so he might as well hear a little about how she tended to think when she worked. If it helped him beef up security, that was no longer her problem.
Ah, so he did not know Lazarus. Xaviere could not tell if the Eldest Daemon was one for grudges or petty revenge, though she suspected not for the latter, but either way if he did not know who Lazarus was she doubted he'd care enough to confront the notorious gangster over hiring someone to enter his private residence. With any luck the slaver was too busy to bother with such trifles, and would choose to make a few changes to his household staff and policies and leave it at that. Not that she feared for Lazarus, not really - he could look after himself, after all, and had plenty of practice as the self-appointed ruler of the underground - but the whole point of employing an assassin was to avoid mess and unnecessary drama. Really, having a drink with Ahman was an opportunity for a little clean-up. Xaviere thought it was going okay.
Xaviere leaned back with a smile when Ahman inquired further about her work. She knew an opportunity when she saw one, and she nodded as she ran one finger around the rim of her now-empty glass.
"Strictly assassination only, these days. I used to be a little more...flexible...but my current employer is generous in reimbursement for my skills. As he should be." The Fairy considered Ahman quietly for a moment. Her contract with Lazarus stated she was to be available for his work first and foremost, but allowed for other contracts in her spare time. And, because her skill set was highly specific and Lazarus deployed her only in certain circumstances, she had free time to spend.
"If you ever have need for an assassin, I remain open to further contracts. For the right price." She would not take another contract like the one she had with Lazarus, but jobs negotiated on a case by case basis? Definitely, especially if the jobs were interesting...and Ahman was certainly that, if nothing else.
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Post by Ahman Rownin on Apr 15, 2018 4:10:12 GMT
“That is true enough. I doubt you feel any real need to bother me though, so I am not too worried about it. However.” His blood red eyes narrowed just slightly. “I would recommend next time, if you have to deal with someone that is under my employee, to come to me directly. Even if knocking on a door is not to your tastes.” Trespassing onto his estate without invitation once, he would let slide this time. Multiple transgressions? Probably not.
It was obvious that Xave had no intention of actually giving more information on this King of Thieves, but it was at no cost to Ahman. It wouldn’t have hurt to learn a little bit more about him though, considering that he sounded like a successful gangsta. Oh well. Perhaps he’d get some of his underlings to find out more information.
Ahman was indulging in his addiction a little too much, so after he quickly already downed his third glass of blood, he decided to not ask for anymore servings. His blood addiction was mostly under control, but sometimes he had to take head and remind himself to watch it.
Now Xave had come out right with what Ahman wanted, an open offer to her services. She was smart, and not afraid to come right out and take advantage of an opportunity. He liked her. Ahman leaned forward, setting his elbows on his thighs and interlocking his fingers with each other. “Oh? I assume your services are provided long as the job does not affect your primary employer?” It was mostly a rhetorical question since he was sure he knew the answer.
“I may have to take you up on that at some point. I deal with enough scum slavers that are more irritations than actual rivals in my business. And, of course, I do have a list of those who have stolen from me. I have people that tend to deal with them, but they are not as subtle or skilled as an assassin. Especially one that has magic pertaining to invisibility.”
“And I can promise that I pay very well.” Perhaps the most important part about hiring someone with a special skill set was their pay, and Ahman had more than enough. He was one of the wealthiest men in Spirit, if not the most, and fairly wealthy compared to most nobles in The City.
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