RP:Jerica's assassins guild interview

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RP:Jerica's assassin's guild interview


Kelay Tavern 26 Oct 2011

Hanan annoys Mesthak

Hanan comes straight in, makes a beeline for the bar, and grumbles something inaudible. Mesthak gives her a look. She takes a deep breath. "I said whiskey. It's usually whiskey. Or rum. But that's just the one ruttin' syllable, so..."

Gravedigger lifted his gaze to Hanan, his ever-vigilant ears eavesdropping on her words. The man would stare but only for a moment, hoping to catch further conversation and perhaps feel a bit more from her.

Jerica swings her feet because she's so bloody short and the chair she sits on is so tall. The tips of her toes just barely brush the basket set down beneath her feet as she eats that bowl of stew and sips from the steaming mug. Jerica appears rather oblivious to her surroundings.

This is why you should never buy cheap potions

Rowen the invisible rat is hopping along much like a tiny kangaroo. The sound made by her locomotion must be rather odd. The compulsion to move in this manner is a side effect of the suspiciously cheap potion of invisibily she has quaffed. Another such is her annoying bout of hiccups. 'The Mouse.' hops up onto the table beside Jerica. A disembodied voice will seem to address her. "Are you -hic- Miss Jerica?"

Hanan was frustrated, and angry. Perhaps the Gravedigger could pick up on that. She just gave him a singularly surly look and turned back to the bartender. "See? Was that so hard?" Mesthak cleared his throat. Hanan grumbled again and passed him the coin. Jerica got a look--all the few feet of her--and a bit of a smirk for that. Huh.

Jerica has her spoon dripping with the gravey of stew half way to her mouth when that voice comes. Chocolate brown eyes dart around to find the source, "Y-yes?" Jerica makes it a question. Hanan's look was seen and wondered at with a furrowing of her brow before she lowered the spoon and picked up a napkin to wipe her mouth. The man with the burial tools was an interesting sort, she though, but as he hadn't appeared to be a threat to the diminutive woman, all of four feet and six inches tall, she paid him no mind. It was the voice which held most of Jerica's attention. "Wh-who are you?"

Gravedigger inhaled deeply, knowing this familiar force permeating from the pirate that he had experienced so many times before. Though the undertaker was still grasping for how he could help use this to control his curse and undo it, he proceeded to feed. Steadily breathing, he begins consuming the forces of Hanan's anger, allowing them to provide adequate sustenance for the moment. The ditch digger by no means had uses of influencing the livings' emotions yet, though once his skills were mastered through his work with the dead, soon he hoped to be able to. For now, he would simply take what he could get, hoping that the surly vampire would provide more.

Hanan was giving Gravedigger a weird look. She had no idea what was going on. All she knew was that the man sitting near her was making her feel funny. And she'd heard him sniff her. Damn it. "Ruttin' hell. Quit lookin' at me that way." She gave the man she presumed to be some kind of creepy hobo another angry--delicious?--look before rising and walking to one of the back tables.

The hiccuping rodent whispers to Jerica

The hiccuping rodent whispers to Jerica. "My codename is The Mouse. I tell none my real name. I am the director of a certain, friendly little organisation. It has come to my attention that you are one who might perhaps be worthy of joining our ranks. Can you follow me please, to somewher we can perhaps talk more privately?"

Gravedigger closes his eyes, continuing to inhale intensely, allowing her hate and annoyance to fill the metaphorical stomach of that particular emotion. Due to his curse of duty and numbness, it may take several more years for the Emotion Eater to fully be able to harness such feelings once more. Usually he would absorb the anger or despair, two powerful emotions, that were remaining within the dead that he interred; the living were a bit more difficult...but he was learning, and for now, the nameless nomad would cease before drawing any further attention. He had his fill. "I do apologize. It will not happen again." The words may come off a bit strangely. The corpse collector was usually prohibited from expressing emotion, though his speech is tinged with the same sort of anger and annoyance Hanan had just recently been experiencing.

Jerica stares straight ahead , probably looking as though she stared at Hanan, as she answers the 'voice', "S-s-sure. I suppose. I think it's going to be hard if I can't see you, though." Jerica has already forgotten about her meal and is putting on her cloak, the hood being drawn up even as she slides off the chair using the basket as a step. That is soon picked up and slid into the crook of her arm.

Hanan growled. "See that it doesn't. Leerin' and... sniffin' women in bars tends to make you look bad." In her seat at the back table she let her nostrils flare, dug some papers out of her pack and began to go through them. Oh great, now the short one was staring at her. "Yeah?" Surly again.

The insane rat hadn't thought of the difficulties of showing someone the way while invisibel, she thinks for a moment or two. "I'll whistle a merry little tune as we go along -hic- so you -hic - know where I am." It never even occurs to the lunatic than a few verbal directions would be far less effort than continuous -save for hiccups- whistling.

Jerica stops staring as soon as Hanan spoke at her. "Oh! I-I'm s-sorry, Miss. It's just--" How does one say they are hearing a voice without sounding crazy? They don't. "I'm sorry," she mumbles and ducks her head, waiting to be told just how she is to follow that disembodied voice.Jerica knew, then and nods. Can a bodyless voice see a nod?

Rowen can see well enough, the invisible rat hops off to the south whistling cheerfully.

Jerica follows that whistled tune constantly looking around as though, perhaps, she will somehow be able to see the owner of that voice.

New Setting Shadowy Den

Cozy, well hidden and brimming with supplies of all kinds, what more could those of the shadowy professions ask for? Cases of daggers line one wall, while various tools of the trade line another: garrotes, nooses, picks, and small vials of who knows what all neatly stacked within. Mockingly, all cases are locked tight, the openings requiring some skill not readily available to the uniformed wanderer. From out of the shadows steps a cloaked figure that greets you without words, but instead with complex hand gestures. If answered correctly, the master points you to a note that suddenly appears.

Staiwen is used as a rat perch

The invisible rat climbs up onto Staiwen's shoulder, to whisper wise words or rather mostly inane nonsense into his ear. The dark robed man greets Jerica with. "So the mouse thinks yah might fit into our organisation. Tell me have you any experience of liquidating people, or getting information from those loathe to part with it?" The robed assassion, currently an invisible rat perch gestures towards a number of instruments of torture in a case to one side, just to make sure his meaning is understood.

Jerica 's dark eyes peer through the shadows of her hood at the large man. Of course, anyone is large in her eyes. Jerica nervously licks at her lips, still loath to part with her outward demeanor. She does look at the instruments pointed to and her eyes widen a bit. She finally understood, then, and Jerica lets go of that timidity. "Yes." It's a short clipped answer and the usual hunch of shoulders is replaced by the diminutive woman's straightening of posture.

Staiwen nods seeming pleased with the woman's curt answer. "There will be a number of tasks for you to complete as part of you application process, but first an interview."He has a whispered conversation with the invisible creature on his shoulder. "Director, with respect, I really don't think her favorite colour or her experience of flower arranging are particularly relevant. Please leave the interview to me, I have a great deal of experience of assessing applicants." The man then turns back to the diminuative woman before him. "Please tell me a little of the skills you possess that I might judge where in our organisation you might be most useful."

Jerica pushes her hood back so it pools on her shoulders and the edges of the cloak are thrown back. In answer to the question, the killer-for-hire opens the lid of the basket and tips it so the man, and invisible rat, can see. "I deal mostly in poisons but I can cut a throat with the best of them. I'm proficient with a cross-bow. I carry a multitude of weapons on my person at all times and I am ready to make a hit when called upon."

The Joy of Poisons

Staiwen seems to be getting rather annoyed by whatever the invisible critter is whispering in his ear. He continues the interview with "Ah poisons, a subject I am quite fond of myslef, I have a little Devil's horn brew somewhere, it makes the victims limbs slowly and painfully melt and fall from their body, quite delightful. Tell me, what types do you prefer?"

Jerica 's smile is slow in coming but it arrives soon. Ah, poison and someone with an affinit for it as well. "Slow acting ones that leave the victim in agony for days."

Stainwen nods and makes a note in his book. "Good, good, I am glad to meet one who enjoys causing pain, I think perhaps you might specialise in helping out our interrogation department, though you would be welcome to volunteer for other work, such as terminations as jobs become available. All of this is assuming you pass the tests of course, but does that sound like a role you might be happy with? We like our members to enjoy their work."

Jerica nods again, closing the lid on her basket and slipping an arm under the handle. "Certainly. Most people understimate me given my stature." She is only 4'6" tall. "I don't mind that since it allows me to get closer than some to my targets." The mention of tests brings a brow up in a quirk. "What sort of tests?"