RP:Counterespionage
Black Pond
The area here is moist and reeks of an ill unknown smell. In the middle of this place is a pond, black like oil it ripples with uncontrollable evil. You feel sick here for some reason, and the air in this place seems colder than anywhere else. The pond is no ordinary corrupted pool, and holds a powerful magic from within, perhaps it's best you not meddle with such a thing and travel on before you anger or bother the inhabitants of this place.
Qamara’s breath is visible as she releases silent exhales while rubbing her hands to her arms to create a bit of warmth as the sudden chill of the pond grips her. The feline stares unblinking into the dark pond as if it were calling her to step in. She’d of course know better than to listen to the call of unseen forces, but she is still unable to turn away. Qamara forces her eyes shut as she finally manages to turn her head away, regretting the idea she agreed to meet in such a place. Her worries stretch beyond the pond at this point. The woman she is here to meet is likely to tear her to shreds should things go sour. The crude shiv and blade she can create quickly offer little to ease her mind and she stares into the sky, questioning herself even more as she begins to shiver some.
Quintessa approaches slowly, the clove-scented smoke of her cigarette drifting through the air like a gentle wisp through the deep foliage of the Dark Forest. She’s dressed in all black, as she usually was, with a long, furry cloak draped around her shoulders. Her raven hair was a mess, but at least it had been brushed to the side, untangling it and making the changeling look at least a little bit presentable. Truth was, she wasn’t. The dark fae girl had seen Hell and it would surely show in her mismatched eyes despite how hard she tried to hide it. With a flick of her cigarette and a flicker of her gaze, blue and hazel optics rose up to look ahead, fixing upon the feline that had reached out to her with a cool expression. The famous Black Pond ripples against the wind behind Qamara as the breeze picks up to carry the scent of her smoke into the rest of the woods, alerting any with a keen enough sense of smell to pin-point the Countess of Dark Forest with ease. It didn’t matter to Quintess; She had no reason to hide, or at least she moved with the confidence of someone who believed that. After taking one last drag from her clove cigarette, the changeling exhales the smoke into the air above her before parting her lips to speak. “So,” she begins, not wasting any time getting down to business, “You had some information for me?”
Qamara’s nose wrinkles at the smell of the smoke is carried her way, marking Quintessa's approach. She keeps her eyes toward the sky to quiet the noise of her racing heart. The wind peels away loose strands of fur, carrying it over the pond. Her massive bush of coarse hair is tugged by the breeze, easily undoing the worn-out band keeping it tied in a bun. As the floats toward the pond, Qamara’s locks fall to her hip and over her face, blinding her some. Before she can think to fix her hair, Quintessa’s voice cuts the air, causing the thin layer of fur covering the assassin to stand on end. Her muscles tense and her heart races even more, though her expressive remains still and lifeless. Qamara is silent and slowly parts her thick locks to stare upon Quintessa. Silently she swallows and breathes slowly to calm her nerves. “Yes.” She begins to utter in a low monotone voice. “The note.” She lowers her hands to her front, allowing her long sleeves to fall over them to hide whatever weapons she may form in case needed. “I met an elven woman, a slave to a rather mean Drow male. He seems to take offense to your message.”
Quintessa takes another drag from her cigarette as she watches Qamara closely, carefully. The feline seemed tense, so the changeling relaxed her posture in a way that translated into peaceful intent as her sapphire and topaz eyes flickered up to look at the twin moons above. “Yes,” Quintessa knew exactly who she was talking about. “He vandalized my messages and at the time I was rather miffed about it but-” The dark fae girl sighs at this before continuing. “That was a mistake. I canceled that bounty months ago but he stirred it up again to get my attention. When I watched Karasu of the Swiftclaw Tribe defeat him in single combat I knew that he was no threat to us…” Quintessa allows her gaze to return to Qamara with a look of concern. “But I don’t like the idea of him keeping an elven slave. What else can you tell me about them?”
Qamara thinks carefully about her next set of words. Betraying her employer would surely save her from the wraith of Quintessa should she have any, but this wouldn’t be good for her if news got out she has loose lips. She inhales deeply as she lowers her head some causing the mass of coarse locks to drape over her face. “I would require some form of payment for more info.” She smirks to herself, thinking that if she is at least being paid to betray someone would justify giving them up. “If the price is right, I may even be able to lure him out.”
Quintessa allows the cigarette to fall from her mouth before she crushes it with her heeled boot, a puff of smoke blown out to her side as she reaches into her cloak for something, pale fingers snagging out a twin set of bills between them. “Payment? Of course.” The changeling crosses the distance between them, hands staying away from the katana on her side as she holds the slips of paper out for her. “Here. These can be redeemed for 2000 gold pieces at the Cenril Bank.” Quintessa steps back away again, her mismatched eyes watching Qamara closely again, taking note of the way she was smirking at herself. “No, just information for now. I can make you a very rich woman as my informant- if your information continues to be accurate. I can promise to pay you more and treat you better than any Drow.”
Qamara’s smirk would widen, her heart would race once more, this time, due to excitement. It seems she has had some luck with her choices, for now at least. She would take the payment, carefully and gentle examining it with her hands. As she puts it away, the assassin lifts her hands to her face, twisting and turning her digits into complex signing motions as a transparent aura of grey begins to surround her body. The aura soon becomes a cloud of sparkling metallic dust, as the metallic objects she carries are turned into a fine powder that lifts into the air. Qamara directs the cloud to hover between her and Quintessa. “The slave is named Nariv.” As she speaks, the cloud gathers together into one swirling mass to shape itself into the image of the girl. “I believe she may be my age. She has letters carved into her forehand. No doubt her master’s doing.” The cloud swirls to create an up-close image of Nariv’s face, allowing the crude SIN carving to be seen. “She seems to have been his slave for quite some time. Her behavior when out of his sight appears to be fueled by fear. It swirls again to take the shape of Mesdoram. “This is her master. I’ve only spoke with him once, and sadly there is not much I know about him, other than he wants to make you suffer.”
Quintessa furrows her brow when she senses magic with her acute abilities, but the dark fae keeps herself from tensing when the images of the individuals Qamara spoke of manifested before her. The changeling nods her head slowly, her brows furrowing when she learns that Mesdoram, a man she had been calling ‘SIN’ for a while now, sought to make her suffer. Quintessa begins to tug on her bottom lip thoughtfully, her gaze searching through the image as she thought about how she would go forward. “And I assume he’s paying you to gather information on me as well.” Quintessa states flatly, looking to the ground as the gears turn in her head. The teenage countess paces for a few moments before her mismatched eyes of icy blue and warm hazel return to Qamara to scrutinize her. “What are you going to tell him? I’m not going to stop you from being a double agent- I appreciate the hussle, but perhaps you might be able to distort the truth if it’s worth it to you…”
Qamara’s sigh is seen on the cold air as the cloud of dust retreats back into the long draping sleeves of the feline’s dress, snaking its way along her arms and her body to reform into solid chunks of metal. She allows a small portion of the cloud to remain in the air and calls it forth to her hand. Here it shapes into a crude comb. “He paid me to identify you and lure you out if I got the chance.” She would brush the thick strands of hair toward the back of her head as she slowly uses her comb to loosen up tight curls and kinks in order to redo her bun. “I have no issue giving him false info. I’ll be sure to ask him more questions to understand his plans more.”
Quintessa lofts a single eyebrow as a smirk tugs against her pale lips. “He hasn’t tried looking very hard for me if he needs you to identify me and get me into public.” The changeling holds her hands out to her sides and does a twirl as if showcasing herself. “I’m Quintessa, the one and only. Almost two meters tall- black hair, one blue eye, one hazel eye. A talent for dark magic and swordsmanship. Wields a katana called the ‘Jubaku no Kijo’ and is never seen wearing armor of any kind. You can normally find me in Vailkrin, either in my demesne or in the tavern, Xalious, at the Mage’s Tower, or in Venturil at a stronghold called ‘Vigilanti Semper’. Feel free to share this information with our mutual friend- gain his trust and his coin. Give him your report, learn what you can of his plan, and then report back to me. Do this and I will have double what I’ve already paid waiting for you.”
Qamara respectfully bows mid stroke of her comb. “Qamara. I do many things ranging from mopping floors to spying. Whatever pays for my next meal.” She motions to Quintessa’s clothing. “I really like your outfit by the way. It makes you look…” she pauses as she thinks over the right choice of words. “…dangerous.” The winds seem to defeat Qamara’s attempts to fix her hair, causing her to allow the breeze to snatch it up. “I do a lot of odd jobs so you can find me just about everywhere. Except Vailkrin, I get the sense people want to eat me when I’m there.” With a final bow the feline begins to turn to make her exist. “I will let you know when I speak with this Drow again.” With that she takes her leave, walking off along the path toward Kelay.
Quintessa grins, showing off her mouth full of sharp teeth. “Some around here really will try to eat you, but you will be safe in my fortress south from here. If you are ever between odd jobs and want to trade sweeping the floors for a warm bed in the servant’s quarters, my Stewardess will know about you.” With a slight bow of her own, Quintessa sees the feline woman off. “Until we meet again- Oh, and thank you for complimenting my outfit. Maybe some time I can give you something from my personal closet. I hate seeing someone not dressed well. So long.” And with that Quintessa would light another cigarette and idle a bit at the pond, reminiscing about her childhood here. Never did the changeling ever imagine she’d be getting mixed up in the things she was when she was 11 swinging a stick around pretending to be a knight, or when she was playing in the mud making ‘potions’ and ‘tinctures’ for her imaginary patients. Quintessa lets the memories wash over her until they become painful, and then she moves on, heading southward to the Misshapen Fortress to prepare for her journey back to Venturil.