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* Plot Information for Little Terreille

A naive Black Jeweled witch has destroyed the Territory Court. From its ashes a new court is being constructed, one run by a manipulative killer. As the blood runs in the streets of Goth from open gang warfare, the Steward of Little Terreille begins a gambit to rebuild the Territory from the ground up and challenge the Star of Kaeleer.
Culture of LT
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Author Topic: Welcome to the Wild  (Read 820 times)

Description: Attn: The criminals of Little Terreille

Offline Cristóbal De la Cruz

  • Character Account: Inactive
    • broken2ss
    • warlord
    • greendescent
    • Role

      First Circle

    • Faction

      Portland Province

    • Territory

      Little Terreille

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      [Link]

    • OOC

      Dash

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Welcome to the Wild
« on: Nov 10, 18, 07:48:03 PM »

The hotel De Soto was one of the more upper class establishments in Port City, located near the main thoroughfare between the Province Capital and Goth. It was an expensive venue, its rooms and meeting spaces not easily acquired. It served as the perfect locale to discuss the future of the urban Territory, given that it was in plain view and would not arouse suspicion on its own.

Cristobal had gone to some length to arrange the meeting after he'd returned from Dhemlan. Using his influence within the Province as Laurel Gold's First Circle, he made for a charity ball to take place within the main ballroom; a masquerade charity. As the autumn sun began to fall different entrepreneurs and business-people dressed with masks and costumes entered the front foyer and were directed by invitation to the main ballroom.

Those who had a special invitation were instead directed to the upper meeting rooms. These specific individuals had been chosen by Cristobal after some extensive research into their criminal connections. These were the Gang Leaders, the Crime Lords, the Mob Bosses of Goth and the surrounding cities, and they were all invited to speak about a very important matter:

The expansion and increased profitability of their enterprises - an alliance that would strengthen them all.

Each invitation held a special touch - a lure that meant something important to each individual recipient. Some were offered the chance for information to reunite with a loved one. Others simply revenge against an individual that had wronged them. Others still, a chance to fuel their ambition.

Regardless, they were invited to attend in person or by proxy and to bring one guard unless they felt especially bold. The Veiled Court was on guard, but few knew of the full roster of their members. Still, those few that held a greater insight would estimate what this might be about.

A circular table was set within the large meeting room with a guard posted at the door. The table could sit twenty comfortable evenly spaced, and those entering would find a number of men and a woman in costume already, taking up one part of the table. At the 'head' was Cristobal who wore a particularly colorful outfit, an ornate mask made of polished ivory and gold with a translucent ruby and sapphire for each eye. Along the walls were counters set with wine, water, and refreshments to gather as desired. All of it was expensive faire from fresh oysters, shrimp, scallops, and an assortment of breads, cheeses, and small vegetables.

No introductions were made until all of the guests had arrived and gathered their refreshments. For now, the tension in the room started to simmer as this mass of predators watched each-other, waiting for a trap to be sprung.



Plot Lead Note: This thread is open to criminal leaders in the Territory. They should have had enough notoriety as to have earned a reputation, and would have received this secret missive somewhere discreet. If you need to work out details for your involvement, PM Dash.

Offline Geralt Shade

  • Character Account
    • ss2bo
    • prince
    • Role

      Crime Boss

    • Faction

      Courtland Syndicate

    • Territory

      Little Terreille

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Sol

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      9

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Re: Welcome to the Wild
« Reply #1 on: Dec 06, 18, 02:09:18 PM »
Geralt scraped the match on the hearthstone, and watched it burst into its tiny flame.  It was a Landen invention, he knew.  Chaillot?  Somewhere like that.  It was a constant reminder, thanks to his smoking habit, that he could not make Witchfire.  How many times had he been caned for that lack of ability?  More often than he cared to count, with at least two of his Mother’s canes broken across his back.  Despite her harsh upbringing, even as old as he was, Geralt still thought of his Mother, and even missed her.  After all, without her somewhat abusive regimen of physical and spiritual education, he could hardly have taken over the Syndicate when he was a much younger man.  The match went out, and he lit another, this time applying it to the end of his hand-rolled cigarette.  Geralt took a few puffs and stood there in the darkness of his office, sighing as he relaxed a touch, enjoying the shadows and the silence.

He was preparing to light the hearth with a Web his Mother had left behind, when someone knocked.  Geralt growled low and soft, and ignored it.  The veterans of his organization knew better than to trouble him during his scheduled personal time, but sometimes there was new blood that forgot, and had to be cuffed into remembering.  He lit the kindling with his Mother’s trick, and was gently guiding the fire to full life, when there was a second knock.  Geralt loosed an angry sigh, and without turning around, a tentacle of shadow separated from the corner of the room, and threw open the dear, where it then reared like a snake in front of the man that had been bold enough to knock a second time.

”M-m-Mister Shade, s-s-sorry to bother you.”  The enforced looked at the tentacle and then at the more distant Prince, uncertain where to keep his eyes.

”That remains to be seen.”  Geralt warned.  He affected something of an accent, a relaxed drawl that only made him seem more dangerous.

”Yeah, um, Logaine’s been found.  Rickard wanted you to know.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched.  He had to agree.  He really did need to know.  The tentacle retreated back into the shadows, and reappeared in triplicate to help Mister Shade put on a coat, and a hat, and hand him a walking stick capped with spider.  He marched briskly out the door, and out to the street, where a carriage was waiting with a driver and a handful of men and women.  Behind him, the enforcer breathed a sigh of relief, and closed the door to the boss’s office, but only after making sure the fire in the hearth was well and truly going.

”Did we recover the goods?”  Mister Shade asked of no one in particular.  One of them would know.

”Yes, the full case.”

”Nothing missing?”

”Full inventory.  Logaine was caught trying to leave Courtland with the case.”

Geralt grunted, lowered his hat over his eyes, and leaned back to consider the situation.

No one disturbed him for the entire ride.

When the motion of the carriage slowed to a halt, Geralt roused himself, and straightened his hat.  No one said they had arrived, that much was obvious.  A man outside opened the carriage door for Geralt, and he stepped own into the street, put his hands on his kidneys, and leaned way back to stretch.  He was handed his cane, an affectation, just before he took his first step and walked into the ramshackle building in front of him.  It was a squat, he recognized that easily enough.  A place used as a home by the homeless, by addicts, or by people trying to hide, like one Warlord, Logaine.  Rickard met him just inside, and led him into a room in the back that he walked into through a door that was closed behind him.  Two men stood outside of the door, two men stood inside of the door.  Just behind Logaine, out of his line of sight, but over his right shoulder, was a Black Widow on his staff, a woman called Scarlet.  He nodded to her, she returned his nod.  Rickard had brought her in to make sure Logaine wasn’t lying, and to neatly dispose of the Warlord once they were done.

”Muh-muh-Mister Shade, I-I’ve been tryin’ to explain to Rickard that I wasn’t stealin’, I was...”

A piece of shadow crawled out of the corner of the room, and slithered over Logaine’s mouth, and wrapped tightly around his head, silencing him.  ”Shhh.  I ain’t here for an apology, Logaine.” Rickard, knowing better than to interrupt, simply pointed at a crate near the door.  Geralt walked over to it, opened the top, examining the contents silently for a moment, before he cut his eyes back to Scarlet.  The Black Widow nodded, it was all there.  ”I don’t care if ya had a buyer right here an’ now that would buy this crate for three or four or even fives times what its worth; ya stole it.  You don’t get to make yer own line o’ business, Logaine.  Not in Courtland.  Not in the Syndicate.”

Sometime later, he was cleaning his hands with a rag, the shadows writhing around him as  tentacles of darkness plucked away the rags, and still others rolled down his sleeves and began to replaced the cufflinks to secure them back into place.  Rickard walked back into the room, and presented Geralt with a very expensive looking invitation.  His hands were still too dirty for his liking, so two of the tentacles changed priorities.  They curled over his shoulders, the end of one splitting into smaller finer “fingers” that took hold of the invitation, while another sliced open the envelope.  He read the missive within, written on expensive parchment, not just rag paper, with neatly written script, handwritten but probably by someone paid to do just that, write very prettily.  It wasn’t the writing that got Geralt’s attention, it was the offer.

”Mister Shadow?”  Rickard prompted.

”Looks like we’re travlelin’ boys.  Send word ahead.”  His shadows handed Rickard the card to read.

”What about Logaine?”

”Scarlet knows what to do.  Leave a couple of the boys here to make sure she’s not disturbed.”

Geralt once again found himself stepping out of a carriage, but the place in front of him was world’s away from where he had been.  The hotel De Soto was much more than simply ‘posh’, though it was that.  It was luxurious, expensive in a way that spoke of utterly disposable income.  He was as frugal as any businessman when he had to be, but this looked like the sort of place that one simply paid for, without considering the expense, otherwise, what would the point of saying there be?  The invitation had said he would be attending a masquerade, with additional business being done under the noses of the rich and inebriated.  Geralt was fine with all of that, if anyone knew how to enjoy a masquerade, it was a Courtland man.  He had opted for simplicity in the way of his costume.  He was wearing something that was not to far from what he normally wore, only a hell of a lot more dramatic.  It was a Courtland gentleman, with a rough perspective, and a rougher time ahead, but he was rather fond of the hat.  He lit one of his smokes, tossing the match into the gutter, and walked into the hotel, spurs jangling with every step.

When his name was checked at the door, he was brought to another room, where a man already waited.  His costume was more dramatic than Geralt’s own.  The Prince of the Courtland Syndicate removed his hat, and gave the man a nod.  ”Geralt Shade.”  He said by way of introduction, ”I’m guessin’ you already know where I’m from.”

Offline Jade Ramsey

  • Character Account
    • bo2red
    • queen
    • Role

      District Queen

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      Thorton District

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      Little Terreille

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      [Link]

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      phinneas

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Re: Welcome to the Wild
« Reply #2 on: Dec 21, 18, 08:30:10 PM »
Jade had deliberated long and hard before deciding to attend the soiree tonight. Oh, she loved to get dolled up and paraded about a party as much as the next Queen, and she was ravenously curious about the event and its mysterious invitation. However as a rule she did not make public appearances as the head of the Ramsey family, nor as the head of any of the ventures in which the Ramsey family partook. Many in Little Terreille's more streetwise circles knew that the Port Authority and the Ramseys were closely tied and had been for generations. Fewer knew that this was by design, and that the Ramseys used the Port Authority as a front for a wide variety of rackets and influence schemes.

Yet the invitation had been addressed to Jade, specifically.

She had to go, she'd argued with Jensen, if for no other reason than needing to find out who it was that was so well informed, and what they wanted. That it was a masquerade ball made it an easy thing to be able to attend without giving away her identity. More, though, it was the veiled suggestion that the inviting party may have information about Josiah that had settled the matter in Jade's mind. Eventually, she'd won over Ilir and Jensen, though they then proceeded to argue among themselves for some time about who would accompany her. Ilir had the stronger Jewels, the better to face the unknown, but Jensen was more educated in the finer details of the Authority and the family's illicit dealings. After some time, it was decided that Jensen would be Jade's formal escort, but that Popper and Ilir would attend the party as well, as backup in case something unexpected happened.

Jade took no small amount of pleasure in choosing her costume. She decked herself out in the velvet jacket of a circus ringleader, complete with fringed epaulettes and a double row of brass buttons down the front. The jacket was fitted in a feminine style and colored a deep, rich red. A crop served as a prop, along with a tophat that was heavily draped in Black Widow webs. These changed her appearance, everything from altering the shape of her face to transforming her dark hair into sunny blonde waves. A lace mask covered the top half of her face anyway, spelled to hide the psychic impression of both her caste and her Jewels. Despite all of her conniving, she'd been unable to convince Jensen to don anything more interesting than a venetian-style mask over one of his better suits. Still, they made a striking pair as they were led into the meeting room. Jensen pulled out a seat for Jade and she settled into it, cataloging what details she could make out of those nearest to her as she did so. Across the room, someone got up and moved to speak with the host. Though Jade had little reason to care about it, she found herself nonetheless powerfully distracted by that voice. She turned her head, and for a moment couldn't name the queer feeling that began to rouse in her breast while she studied the back of the man speaking.

Turn around, she silently willed him, oddly impatient. She felt like she knew him, like she would recognize him if she could just see his face.

Offline Gustav Fyers

  • Character Account
    • white2yellow
    • prince
    • Role

      Second Circle

    • Faction

      Territory Court

    • Territory

      Little Terreille

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      [Link]

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      Gavin

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      44

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Re: Welcome to the Wild
« Reply #3 on: Dec 29, 18, 03:34:13 AM »
Gustav contemplated the invitation for a time upon receiving it. When Lord Tolan informed him of the invitation’s arrival during a visit to the school, Gustav was wary. He had both Lord Tolan and Lady O’Clery examine the missive for trap spells and other nasty surprises before curiosity got the better of him. The invitation was elegant and succinct, inviting him to a masquerade ball to discuss a mutually profitable alliance. He didn’t ponder the wording, but rather the sentiment behind it.

Someone knew about his activities, or had an idea. But whom? How did they find him? Showing up at this meeting would confirm their suspicions, but not showing up could create other problems. How would they help him learn the identity of Lord Black?

He was getting too old for this cloak-and-dagger shit. In another life would have been Master of Tulzbruja, preparing young men to carry the Jacks into the future. Gustav’s mind traveled back across the years to Caecian and all the people that he knew once upon a time. How many lived today? How many were long dead?

His office had grown dark by the time his mind returned from its wanderings. He was going to the damned meeting, but not without some preparations.

The weeks prior to the masquerade ball saw him locating Lady Holt, the Glacian clothier who’d once helped him in Goth, at her new shop in Little Vaasa. He paid her handsomely to design his newest wardrobe in the style which he was accustomed. Then he spent long hours with Lady O’Clery, layering the necessary spells into his cane and dagger to ensure that he was defended. He didn’t expect them to kill one of the truly Dark Jeweled (and everyone landed in that category, compared to him), but forewarned was forearmed. He let his Lily know his itinerary and suggested that if he didn’t return after three days, then to continue on without him.

To her credit, it only took twenty minutes soothe her after that.

Finally he made preparations with his Landen friends to ensure that he was watched both coming and going from the Hotel de Soto. When he arrived at the hotel for the ball, Gustav’s light gray suit was cut in the Glacian style. His escort, Lord Tolan, wore a black suit of the same style and both men entered with their domino masks affixed to their faces. Gustav decided that he liked the Hotel de Soto, and Port City in general, because it was so different from Goth as to be another world. Goth had made great strides toward being a better place, but it had centuries of work ahead before it came close the grandeur of Port City.

The pair made their way to the meeting room, Gustav leaning on his cane as he walked while Lord Tolan kept his eye on the surrounding area. Inside the meeting room, the dear boy lead Gustav over to the large table where their host (Gustav could only imagine that the man wearing the...unique costume was the host) appeared to be waiting.

Gustav looked over the people in the room for anyone he might recognize, but otherwise said nothing for the time being. The meeting hadn’t started and there were likely others en route. He wanted to see who else had received this invitation and their motivations for attending.

Moreover, he wanted to know who had the reach to bring them all together.

Offline Geralt Shade

  • Character Account
    • ss2bo
    • prince
    • Role

      Crime Boss

    • Faction

      Courtland Syndicate

    • Territory

      Little Terreille

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Sol

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      9

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Re: Welcome to the Wild
« Reply #4 on: Feb 05, 19, 11:51:43 AM »
Geralt Shade had made his entrance.  He made his greeting, and as others arrived, he knew that it was going to turn into a bit of a waiting game.  After all, if he were any judge, a bunch of crooks had been invited to one place, and that could mean one of two things.  It could mean opportunity, which was why any one of them would show up, or they were all about to be murdered in an effort to remove their element from the Territory or for someone else to take over.  Geralt was hoping for the former, of course.  Granted, there was a certain amount of curiosity along with his hopes for lucrative business opportunities, but there was still a chance this could all go very far south in a very big hurry.  Like as not, he already had a quiet understanding with some of these people, but sometimes that sort of blind acquaintance was best.  It kept things elegant, uncomplicated.  Uncomplicated was good.

A woman had entered with a man at her back, and Geralt had taken note of her scent, and the sway of her hips out of the corner of his eye.  It was that motion that had made him take note in the first place.  For some reason, he had not expected a woman, which meant he needed to seriously reexamine his personal biases, especially considering that he worked with dangerous women every day—and that he was raised by one.  There was something more to that scent, something he did not want to focus on, but despite himself, he did.  He psychically engaged the woman’s presence, and immediately wished he had not, even though he knew that it was fucking inevitable.  It was not something he could avoid or deny, and it was as sure as the Night-damned sunrise.  Geralt shivered ever so slightly, and the shadows deepened beneath his hat when he put it back on, deepened and faded, and rolled down the length of his lean form until it pooled back into the shadow at his feet.

Geralt braced himself, a part of him hoping that it was just an over-reaction.  How many women like this had he met?  How many Queens?  Not many at all, and they were all of them striking.  Like any Male, there was a part of him questing, seeking, desire that Bond, that connection to a Queen---but Geralt had largely silenced that longing.  He had taken it out, strangled it, removed it, and stuffed it into a mental drawer where he could safely ignore it.  Every now and then, he took it out and examined, just to be sure it was still dead—and it had been for years.  Fuck.

Until now.

She was blonde and lovely, and filled out the costume she had selected for herself very well indeed.  Geralt hated that he had even had that thought.  He had known women, several women, occasionally he had known them in small groups, and yet here he was waxing bloody poetic about a female he did not know, and if he were honest, he did not want to know.  His instincts told him he was a liar, loudly and often, in the space of just heartbeats.  He wanted to know her, and strangely, a part of him already did.  She was his, and he wanted to cut that tether out, remove that leash, strangle that connection in its crib, drown it in a bucket like a bag of unwanted kittens—but he also didn’t.  He wanted this Queen, wanted this Bond, wanted this connection—wanted to feel whole, and hated his Mother with a flash of heat for never having prepared him for this possibility.  Geralt’s hands flexed, and he ground his teeth together, before he found his feet moving on their own.  He pulled a chair out near the woman, and simply took a seat nearby, his focus entirely on her, so much so that he barely registered the new arrival, an older fellow.

”Who are you?”  Geralt asked in a tone that he barely recognized.  It was need.  He had to know, had to put a name to her at the very least, or he would cart her off in his arms and not look back at the ruckus that would no doubt cause.  Her name would have to be enough, or at least, he hoped that it would be.

Offline Jade Ramsey

  • Character Account
    • bo2red
    • queen
    • Role

      District Queen

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      Thorton District

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      Little Terreille

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      phinneas

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Re: Welcome to the Wild
« Reply #5 on: Feb 06, 19, 10:57:08 AM »
He turned and moved towards her, and Jade had to bite her lower lip in order to keep from fully grinning while she watched. She felt Jensen tense behind her, but whispered on a thread to him and assured him all was well. He still didn't like it when Shade pulled out the seat beside Jade and sat himself down, but his objection was limited to a noticeably more growly aura about him and an unfiltered glare that dared the Prince to act out of turn. Jade was far more welcoming, turning towards the newcomer with an undisguised interest.

"Just another nameless do-gooder, here to invest in the future of our Territory," she answered him, though she offered a hand and a smile to him as she did so. She was, after all, wearing a disguise and if she gave her name it would expose her to the others present. Geralt, on the other hand, didn't seem to be wearing a mask. "Lady works fine for the moment, Prince. And you are?"

If he accepted her hand, she'd grant him a private psychic thread as well. 

*We'll have time to interview one another when this business is concluded. For the moment, it's enough to know that I am yours, Prince, and that you are mine.* A younger Jade would've settled for no such thing. A younger Jade would've filled him with her Touch and shut out the rest of the room entirely, allowing herself to become wholly wrapped up in this new part of herself that'd just sat down at her side so unexpectedly. This version of the Queen was at least nominally more wise, careful enough to understand that revealing anything out of the ordinary to the others in a place like this would only invite trouble. She bit back her own rampant curiosity. Was he truly a Prince, or was his costume spelled to confuse the matter? She'd heard that Princes could succumb to the Bond but had never seen it happen herself. Whom did he represent at this meeting? She now wished she'd paid more attention sooner; had he introduced himself to the host and she'd missed it?

Offline Cristóbal De la Cruz

  • Character Account: Inactive
    • broken2ss
    • warlord
    • greendescent
    • Role

      First Circle

    • Faction

      Portland Province

    • Territory

      Little Terreille

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Dash

    • Posts

      21

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Re: Welcome to the Wild
« Reply #6 on: Feb 08, 19, 04:16:19 PM »
While the secret movers and shakers of the criminal underworld of Little Terreille began to swim among themselves like sharks in a small tank, searching for trails of blood to pounce upon, Cristobal sensed the undercurrents of fear and hope that swirled about them. The room was serenaded with an resonating, artful piano score that was carried out by a masked pianist who's red cloak fell upon the floor behind him. Others milled nearby Cristobal - a hulking figure who wore a bone mask that was more macabre than most of the contemporaries within the room. A pair of women - one who wore barely anything at all save for leaves that covered up her figures, artfully woven with vines that ended in a bird's mask, and another who wore a black shawl like she were at a burial.

Cristo looked out from beneath his mask, seeing the room fill with those whose identities he had plied over the course of years of research. Up until this moment it had only been information gathering - meant merely for the knowledge of the Iarvis. But now another task, a more compelling task, had been given to him by his masked brother. He had a duty and a responsibility to his Queen to see the darkness of this Territory rooted out.

The stage was set. It was time to begin the first act.

Cristobal rose to his feet and as he did he drew up his glass and a spoon. Just a light touch upon the glass and the pianist slowed his song to a single strike of the key to the chords. With a touch of his Summer Sky the sound carried through the din and conversations died like the last breaths of the terminally ill. Soft gasps still, struggles for relevancy, then... silence.

"Good evening." He said from beneath his mask. "I am the one that invited you. I requested that we all wear masks tonight - for the protection of each-other and ourselves. After all, many of you are rivals to one another.

Each of us have something in common, however - the fact that our business is being hurt by the Territory Court. Most specifically, we are being hurt by Lord Black."
Slowly he rose a gloved hand to his face and drew off his mask. For a moment he let them see the face beneath the mask, but it was not his true face. The salt and pepper beard, the distinguished mien of Cristobal de la Cruz, Portland's distinguished gentleman of Dhemlanese descent, looked out at the assembled with golden eyes that blazed with focus.

"Fear is what makes us all alike. Our empires, our reach, our ambitions: All threatened by this nameless, faceless foe who wields terrifying power. He controls not only the Territory Court, he pervades into every facet of life in Little Terreille.

It is time for that reign to come to an end."


Slowly Cristobal placed the mask upon the banquet table. "All of us are beholden to his power, because he cannot be assailed. He has crushed the Hell Lords because there was no way to retaliate to him.

The solution is to make it so that his power, alone, cannot combat us. Cooperation in this desperate hour is what is needed.

We must combine our assets to tear down the golden tower that has been erected in the heart of our Territory, and remind those who live within it that we are the ones who control Little Terreille...

And always will."


The bone-masked man stepped forward behind Cristo, and he rumbled in a low voice full of anger and accusation. "How do you plan to do that?"

Cristobal afforded a small smile without turning to regard the man. "By starting a war." He shifted his gaze across the room. "All of us will use our organizations to assail the forces of the Courts. Territory, Province, District, we will strike as one against the Guards and the Officers of the Courts.

Destruction and chaos must be our weapons, so that when Lord Black looks to wield his immense power to put out the fire, he finds that his entire Territory is burning. The more he tries to stop us, the easier it will be for us to discover the levers to affect him until we find the answer to the ultimate question:

Who is Lord Black?"
The women behind him spoke up in chorus, their voices a mix of pleasure and terror to the ear.

"And then we destroy him."

Offline Gustav Fyers

  • Character Account
    • white2yellow
    • prince
    • Role

      Second Circle

    • Faction

      Territory Court

    • Territory

      Little Terreille

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      [Link]

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      Gavin

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Re: Welcome to the Wild
« Reply #7 on: Mar 31, 19, 11:14:27 PM »
On the whole, Gustav liked most parties in Little Terreille. His exposure to the upper class, through their children, showed him that the Aristos of Little Terreille weren’t really different from the Aristos anywhere else. They threw money at their friends, their enemies, and anyone that they couldn’t cajole into agreement. He wondered if the benefactor of this little get-together wasn’t also an Aristo who just dabbled in the dark underbelly of the Territory. Still, he’d come here because someone knew about his operation and thought that they could help him get what he wanted.

So Gustav sipped a drink and otherwise took note of who else believed in this fellow’s ideas.

And what an idea! Gustav admired the sheer gall of talking about Lord Black without any fear. Those who acknowledged his existence, when they did so, usually looked both ways before referring to him. His connection to the Territory Court had become clearer to Gustav in the course of his private investigation. The Territory Court tacitly endorsed his actions, even if they didn’t know who he was. Unfortunately, the well of information had run unnervingly cold whenever he tried to locate anything further. The Yellow Prince didn’t imagine himself a threat to someone who held the power to reshape the world, but knowledge of Lord Black, a name or a face, would even the odds between him and the rest of the Territory.

Lord Black couldn’t be everywhere at once. Wherever he acted gave them more and more information on what he valued and whom he supported. That information would strip away the mystery until they knew enough to hit Lord Black where it truly hurt. They already knew that he despised slavery and injustice used upon children. He supported Amerys Tiernan’s desires to feed and tend to the people of Little Terreille. Plucking a Queen from obscurity and setting her on the highest throne in the land spoke was more than just believing in her ability to lead and rule. Gustav couldn’t speak to it now, but he wanted to talk to Amerys again and sound her out.

Or maybe Roland would be the better source.

Destroying Lord Black sounded good on paper but he was talking about killing someone who wore a Black Jewel. Jewels didn’t make one invincible; Logain Morr proved that. But a Black Jewel was the darkest of the dark.That kind of power did not die easily. When it did, the collateral damage was usually more than the slayers bargained for. They’d have a better chance of turning back time with their bare hands. But Lord Black had to pay for the children he’d murdered without care for their potential.

Gustav was interested so far but questions remained.

Offline Geralt Shade

  • Character Account
    • ss2bo
    • prince
    • Role

      Crime Boss

    • Faction

      Courtland Syndicate

    • Territory

      Little Terreille

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Sol

    • Posts

      9

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Re: Welcome to the Wild
« Reply #8 on: Jul 16, 19, 11:28:00 AM »
Geralt understood his limitations, or at least he liked to believe that he did.  He had not risen to his position without knowing where his strengths were.  He was not typically worried about an individual’s Darkness.  He was in the business of selling weapons across Territorial lines to a rebellion that was doing its very best to cross the Blood of that region.  He knew better than most that a properly spelled weapon could drop even a Dark Jewel if you did it right.  Besides which, if he cowed easily he’d not be the leader of the Courtland Syndicate, some other bastard would be.  So, he endured the glare of the Lady’s guardian without flinching.  He felt no particular need to posture, and so he ignored the look and the faint aura of menacer, letting his focus rest on the Queen.

Whenever Geralt thought of the phrase ‘bad timing’ he would remember this bloody moment.

She knew she had him too, there was no way she didn’t.  Geralt almost smiled at her somewhat playful response to his urgent query.  He had controlled his voice, but it had felt urgent, in all the ways that mattered.  He was too fucking old to feel this way.  He liked women, he respected women, he knew they were every bit as dangerous as a man, and in some key examples, even more so.  Black Widows were poisonous lovers, sex with them was like rolling the dice in a casino game, but Queens were worse.  A Queen could twist you up, pull your leash, make you feel like you were the most important Male in the world, or like the largest piece of shit they had ever seen.  His Mother had been quite colorful in the description.  Thanks, Mother.

Geralt took her hand as he took his seat, leaning over it slightly, trying to breathe her in as best as he could and hating himself for the effort.  The thread that he allowed from her was like a very subtle balm, the kind of thing that is less than a half-measure when it was all you could get.  *Yes.*  He replied to her, *You are.  I’ve not had you for this long, I will be patient awhile longer.*  The Blood Opal Prince did not want to be patient.  He was not a man used to waiting for anything, and yet he had to.  He hated the feeling of it, the need it suddenly inspired.  His Queen was every drug he could have ever wanted, and with just a glance, he was suddenly addicted.  This is pure idiocy.  Who designed this?  He nodded slow to her, and then tore his gaze away when the man that seemed to have called this meeting began to speak.

He tilted his head at the chaos being suggested by the potential alliance implied by this meeting.  ”Are you suggestin’ a kind o’ shadowy revolt?  Not subversion, but direct action against the Courts that we’ve already bribed an’ sweet talked for years?”

 

 

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