| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Congratulations on getting into the game, guys. Please dot here and the first game play post will be up by tomorrow night.
"A pleasure to be here. I am eager to bring Talingarde to its knees with you all. Just remember, we don't have to like each other, but remember who the true enemy is."
In the kingdom of Talingarde, many crimes may send you to Branderscar Prison, but the sentence has but one meaning. You are wicked and irredeemable. Each of you received the same greeting when you arrived. You were held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with a runic F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’ and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the great and eternal love of Mitra and his chosen mortal vassals.
Condemned, you face at best a life of shackles and servitude in the nearby salt mines. Others might await the “gentle” ministrations of the inquisitors so that co-conspirators may be revealed and confessions extracted. Perhaps, some of you will be spared this ordeal. Perhaps instead you have come to Branderscar to face the final judgment. In three days, the executioner arrives and the axe falls or the pyre will be lit. Through the pyre or the headsman's axe, your crimes will be answered.
You have all been chained together in the same communal cell dressed in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. Manhandled and mistreated, any finery you once possessed is either ruined or long lost. No special treatment has been given any prisoner – male or female, commoner or noble – all of the forsaken are bound and imprisoned together. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain. Your arms are secured to the wall above by manacles. A guard is posted right outside the cell day and night. Little thought is given to long term accommodations. At Branderscar, justice comes swift and sure.
Escape seems hopeless. You have all been well searched and every attempt to conceal anything on your person has failed. And if you could somehow slip your bonds and fly out of this prison, where would you go? Who from your former life would want anything to do with the forsaken? Despised, alone and shackled – all that you can do now is await your doom.
For each of you, your old life is over. For each of you, hope is a fading memory. For each of you, justice will be fairly meted. And who can blame fair Talingarde after what each of you has done?
Ivy stares seeminly blankly at the walls, not visibly watching any of her companions or guards... yet taking them in just the same.
At least this place is dark, she muses as her normally pinned up dirty blonde hair hangs disheveled around her face, partially obscuring her blue eye. Her red eye she keeps fixed on the ground at her feet.
I wonder if my... family... will come out for the execution. It would certainly be like them to want to be sure that the monster was finally dead. Assuming they even know, of course, that I am here. But how could they not? Assasination attempts on the crown do not happen even every year here... I would be surprised if they did not at least hear of my botched try on her life. At least they won't get my possessions... they were too well hidden. Some adventurer will probably one day find them and wonder where they came from... better that, though, then my 'parents' get them.
Ivy partially shakes her head to herself at her musings. Not much to do, I suppose, but wait for the end... drawing and quartering was not how I envisioned dying, but I suppose there are worse ends. Not many, but some.
Maena waits until there are no guards watching her, then struggles against the chains, revealing the hard muscle beneath the softness of her curves as she seems to almost panic, Surely this can't be the end... Had I died fighting them, I could at least have taken some with me. But to be executed, as a symbol of the strength of House Darius and their beloved Mitra..... No, there must be more....
Finally, she stops struggling with a sigh, I must have faith that Belial wanted me taken for a reason..., as a long, wavy lock of hair an unnatural shade of crimson falling over her face. Briefly, a look of fear makes her pale skin, somehow, impossibly even paler -- the result of years of habit -- before she breaks the silence with a throaty laugh. The mirth in her voice is clear in her husky tone as she says, "I suppose it's far too late to worry as to whether my horns are poking out from my hair, now isn't it?"
Her composure regained, she stretches out her long neck in a long, slow movement to get the hair out of her bright green eyes, taking another look at her fellow forsaken before adding, wryly, "Guess I found the one place in Talingarde where I can be myself...."
It was something that had been eating at him since he had been put in manacles. I was so careful, he thought as he pondered on the events that led to his capture. How did that messenger happen upon my quarters, closed and locked as they were...unless. For those who can see in the darkness of the cell would see realization cross his face. Of course...my blasted cousin and his worrying ways...he must have sent the boy to check on me. I will make him pay for betraying his own blood as he did. I will make him pay as he would have me pay along with that blasted man, what was his name? Balin! That is the one...if only I could escape.
His thought finally turning to his current situation, Lukasz looked about as the rattle of chains marked his attempt to test his bonds, not that it would have done much good. The thin, blond-haired man barely looked like he could barely manage a suit of leather armor, much less strain his manacles. Decked out in the dirty rags of once fine clothing, Lukasz gazed about with human eyes as he attempted to shift to a more comfortable position, impossible with how the guards had arranged them. "Hello?" he whispered.
Dull, insistent pain brings Alicia back to the land of the wakeful. Her pale blue eyes slowly open, allowing in the meager light as they peer through the platinum cascade of her hair to settle upon the awful F etched into her left arm. She fights back tears as she remembers the hands holding her down as the brand seared into her skin. Remembered screaming as she saw the smoke rise from her own flesh.
And now this. Shortly this would all end. She wishes she could just go back to sleep, that she could sleep through it all up to the very point the headsman's axe slices through her neck. But the stupid burn itched, of all things. To scratch it would bring agony, but letting it be was a torture of its own. The powerful woman finally brings her eyes up, determined to distract herself by checking out her cellmates.
Her physique flexes impressively as she tests her chains, not really expecting give. Muscles gained from years of hard training stand out even further due to her nearly dehydrated state, the result a seething mass of muscle with deeply etched lines. She locks eyes with the red-headed tiefling, but remains silent for the moment. She looks to the male cellmate with a bit of detached amusement, remaining silent for him, as well.
His eye finally adjusting to what dim light there was in the room, Lukasz was able to gaze about, his ice blue eyes taking in the room once more and settling only briefly on the others in the room. Spotting the red haired woman with what Lukasz guessed were horns and the massively muscled woman, he pondered on the potential. Horns suggest something extraplanar. And the other woman seems capable of snapping necks with those arms of hers. I wonder if she holds any skill with a blade? I don't imagine she would be in here otherwise. Deciding it would be prudent to guage the other occupents before he said more, Lukasz remained silent.
How did it come to this... Shackled with these miscreants. The guards ignore me, how can I escape? After a few moments, Neminia whimpers softly, knowing that only sympathy and mercy might win the day now. The guards were mostly men, and men were infinitely fallible. Framed by a spurned lover, perhaps? A victim of abuse? Surely there is a story that will change their perceptions. But as the shackles dug into her flesh and the brand continued to burn, another whimper escaped, genuine in its origin.
As the redhead speaks, Ivy smiles an all too sharp smile, her dhampir fangs showing briefly.
"No. Nothing matters now. Be thankful, your deaths will be mostly painless. Mitra's codes prevent them from killing brutally... unless you are guilty of High Treason."
Her smile turns bitter at those words.
The blonde smiles without mirth. "Well that's a relief." Her voice is husky, and cracks from days of disuse. She is idly amused by the fact that most of the occupants seem to be women. Fair Talingarde, indeed, subjecting the 'weaker' sex to its kind ministrations in Branderscar.
She shakes her hair out of her face, peering at their cell and the surrounding area.
Ivy turns to the other blonde woman and examines her. "Their sensebilities and sense of self righteousness prevent them from admitting the truth. They want us to die. They want us to suffer, but to admitt it would mean admitting that their 'merciful god' was wrong. Many a soul I sent to the boneyards painfully at the contractor's request... it is still in their nature. They just do not want it to be."
She turns her pale eyes back to the speaker. "Well aren't you the philosopher? The country's full of hypocrites, but it changes nothing. They get to keep living the good life in Happy Mitra's arms, and we get to die to satisfy the populace that good Mitra is keeping things under control." She chuckles, again without much mirth, before devolving into a coughing fit.
A small smile crossed Lukasz's face, partly in derision at the dhampir's comment, and partly as he realized that he was surrounded by women. This would be a dream in other circumstances, he thought before saying, "Whatever the reason for them locking us in here, the muscled one has the right of it. Seems our fates will be sealed together. As such, I will not face my demise alone. My name is Lukasz Pavo, and I was a barrister before the chuch saw fit to through me in here and take all my earthly possessions." He said his words calmly and pleasantly, as if he were talking to the women in a tavern, or lighthearted social gathering.
Ivy faces the man calling himself Lukasz. Barristers... glib all the way to the gallows it seems. A smirk crosses her face at the thought.
"Perhaps you never learned during your years as a barrister. The condemned have no names. Names imply personhood, and in the eyes of Talingarde we are no longer people. We are already dead... and bodies of the dead no longer have need of names."
Ivy's smile is grim.
Nemenia is resting quietly, sagging in her bonds. She is simply listening and waiting for an opportunity...
Giving an odd look at Ivy's words, he responds, "That is assuming that I give a wit for Talingarde's laws. It was breaking those laws that landed me here...much the same as the rest of you I assume. Guve me a set of laws I can respect, and I am happy to follw them. The laws that the nobility of Talingarde cling to are a farse, trust me, I know. If getting to know my fellow condemned spits at their rules, all the better."
Ivy smiles, more genuinely this time.
"Minor point of contention. You were sent here not because you broke the laws of our 'beloved' nation. Rather you were sent here... all of us were sent here... because we were caught doing so."
Ivy shakes her head.
"I used to break the law on a daily basis. For years mind you, not just months. I only am here now because I failed to escape, a pox upon that guard's family. I failed to kill my mark... thrice danmed birds. But at the end, it was my getting caught that landed me in these binds. My name was Ivy. You would not have heard it before, though you might be familiar with some of my work."
Maena laughs again, "As I said, we've found the one place in Talingarde where we can be ourselves. We're already branded, already sentenced to die... And the guards would get in trouble if they take away House Darius' show of 'strength' and 'virtue'."
She turns toward Ivy and says, "If you're who I think you are, then you poached one of mine that I'd been setting up for two weeks. "
Ivy gives the tiefling an appraising look and attempts a shrug.
"It is possible I suppose. Let me think. Young noble. Liked prostitues, yes? Someone didn't like that. Paid 10,000 and what looked like a wedding ring for his head. 2000 extra for partial dismemberment prior to death."
She gives the tiefling a smile. "Apologies for taking from another professional. Would offer compensation if under other circumstances."
Alicia snorts at the man's proclamation. "A set of laws where you do as you please, perhaps? You are a prized citizen after all! Get this man out of these chains." She laughs cruelly, listening to the two women discuss their murder for hire escapades. She only had one such item in her history, and it had landed her here. She had no wish to discuss it.
Turning to the burly woman, Lukasz replied, "Or one that allowed success through merit and strength, not one where second cousins of one House advanced by those more deserving. But that is then and this is now." Looking about again, he continued, "Either way, looks like we are all to pay for working within a system that does not quite match our tastes."
Alicia smirks at the man, but says nothing. She knows of no legal system where the killing of people for money, or any other reason really, was allowed or tolerated. Perhaps he was in here for stealing from a more noble family member or some such thing. A 'soft' criminal. Her eyes settle on the floor, her mind turning in on itself as she slips back into her semi-fugue state, waiting for the end.
Ivy turns from the tiefling to look at the blonde woman and the former barrister as they wrap up their convesation, then looks at the whimpering gnome. "Gnome. Whimpering like a beaten lost pup will not get pity or sympathy here. Face your fate with some dignity if you can. Death comes for us all. We have the advantage of knowing what day and how at least."
She can't be that weak or pathetic. Not if she has the brand. Not if she is here with us. To die.
To the southern end of the hall, an iron-reinforced prison door cracks open. A guard steps out into the wide hallway separating the cells and with an arrogant swagger, slowly makes his way towards the cell containing the prisoners. Behind him, two other guards watch from the guard room ready to rush to his aid should anything suspicious happen. As the guard nears the cell you are all chained in, he takes out his truncheon and lets it hit each of the iron bars as he goes past, making an echoing clang, slowly getting louder and louder as he approaches.
Reaching the cell, he points at Alicia with the club. "Don't think we didn't that hear that, love. Keep quiet or my boys and I'll have to make our own amusement. Oh, I doubt very much you'll be laughing then." The guard makes a not so subtle suggestive gesture before turning and making his way back to the lighted room at the southern end of the cell block.
"What was that? A voice asks.
"Nothing, just the new scum, making noise as usual.. now what were you saying?" replies the guard who just threatened Alicia.
"Oh yeah, Blackerly is a damned thief! That game was rigged last night!" announces another.
A third voice retorts, "If it’s rigged, why do you keep going back to the gatehouse then?"
"The beer’s passable."
From the southern room, you hear three men laugh. "Drinkin’ on duty! Damn, this place has gone to hell. Captain Callidan would have never tolerated that crap. That’s for sure!"
The first voice pipes up again. "Captain Callidan … he left, what? Two years ago?"
"Almost three and since then the place has been straight down the s$@$ter. That old man never leaves his tower. He stays up there reading his books and petting his owl!" replies the second voice.
"Petting his owl? Is that what they call it these days?"
The three guards enjoy a bit of a laugh before the conversation dies down and you're unable to make out anything else.
Gambling. Drinking on duty. Cheating. Perhaps this place is not as hardened as it used to be. New guard captain sounds detached. Possible advantage. Need outside person.
"Anyone else hear that. Guards like to talk it seems."
Cocking his head, listening to something before responding at a whisper, "I hear what you mean. This raises some interesting options. Though how we can use this information is still uncertain." Blast, if only I was not shackled to this wall.
Alicia just smiles at the man, her muscles flexing in anticipation. She gives a sigh as the man then walks away. Escaping during a friendly chatting session with the guards wasn't ideal, but at least she wouldn't be chained to the wall on the way to wherever they were going.
Listening to the guards, she wonders if she should make some noise again. They seemed an overconfident, lazy lot, and would likely run at the first sign of true confrontation. What exactly did she have to lose?
She puts that question on the backburner, listening in again on her companions' conversation.
Professor James Moriarti sits with his head back and his eyes closed as the others begin to stir. His neatly trimmed, though dirty and disheveled now, raven-black hair falls over his brow partially obscuring his face, but from what you can tell through the dark, his features are handsome if easily forgettable.
Horns, she said? Could one of them be devilspawn? He wonders, eyes still shut. And I wonder what the meek sounding one did to land himself in here? Of the crimes that will get one sent to Brandescar, I would guess desertion from the sound of him... or perhaps consorting with dark powers. Though I suppose a meek 'Hello?' isn't much to go on.
He continues to listen silently as the others discuss their fate. A barrister? he thinks, smiling to himself in the dark. He definitely danced with the devil then. While his cellmates reveal more about themselves, he continues to make guesses about them to himself until he hears the door open and several guards enter. He opens his eyes.
After observing one guard's crude display, he closes his eyes again to think and overhears their jailers discussing the recent decline in the state of security here at Brandescar. Again he smiles considering his company.
I'm enterprising. I can certainly work with this.
You could not say how much time passes since the guards leave. In Branderscar, there are no windows to track the progress of the day. Eventually, however, you are alerted by the sound of the iron-reinforced prison door at the end of the hall creaking open on its rusty hinges. As the light shines out of the room, the silhouettes of seven men can be made out against the light. Marching at the head of the group is Sergeant Tomas Blackerly, the Captain of the Watch for Branderscar Prison and the man who held the brand that marked each of you. This is the man who laughed, spit on, and beat you into unconsciousness after he burned you. Something about him seems dazed. He has difficulty focusing on anything and his eyes have a slightly glazed over look to them.
As the Sergeant reaches the cell, four guards behind him withdraw their clubs while two hesitantly open the cell with a loud CLACK! Taking his truncheon from his belt, he points with it towards Maena and says gruffly:
"You there! That’s the scum! Get 'em unshackled. If any of you makes trouble, you'll earn a thrashing! Today's your lucky day, scum. You've got a visitor. How you ever warranted such a fine friend is beyond me. Seems she wants to say good-bye. Now step lively. We wouldn't want to keep her waiting."
As the chain around your feet is withdrawn, Blackerly eyes Alicia, who seems to be moving far too slow for his taste. Raising his truncheon he gives the mercenary an encouraging rap on her bare feet. [ooc](1 nonlethal damage)[/dice]
With the other guards ready for any trouble, Maena is carefully released from the shackles binding her hands, before being fitted with a second set of manacles and fetters and being pushed out of the cell. Carefully the guards reset the chains binding your feet before withdrawing from the cell and closing it with another loud CLANK!
Seated across the table from you is a hauntingly beautiful woman in an elegant black dress. A soft silken veil covers most of her face. She looks as if she is headed to a funeral. Her hair is so platinum as to almost be white and her eyes are shockingly green. She clearly has been weeping.
"Oh, dearest," proclaims the unfamiliar woman. "I’m so relieved to find you alive!" She quickly turns to Tomas. "Could we please have a moment alone, good sir? For pity’s sake?
Tomas goes blank for a bit and then quickly agrees. "Of course, my lady. For you,’ tis no problem."
Giving a thankful nod, the blond haired woman dabs a single tear from her eye and watches as Blackerly leaves. Once the man is out of the room and the door is shut, the woman's demeanor changes immediately.
"Have you forgotten me, dearest?" the unexpected visitor says with a smirk, dropping her pretense of grief. "You may call me Tiadora. We possess a mutual friend who would like to meet you and your fellow cell-mates. Unfortunately, our friend is unwilling to visit you in your present and rather shabby accommodations, so it seems you must escape. Oh, don’t be so dour. Just because it’s never been done before is no reason you can’t be the first. If you manage that, cross the moors on the outskirts of town. On the old Moor Road you’ll see a manor house with a single lantern burning in the second story. There our mutual friend waits. That is all I know. He did want me to give you this." She takes off her silken veil and wipes away a few fake tears with it. "Something to remember me by, dearest," she finishes, pushing the silken veil into your hands.
Once the guards have left, Ivy laughs a little, bitter laugh.
"Seems Blackerly is not strong willed. Nice to know. Wish I had 'friends' to visit like that."
Shruging, Ivy slips back into silence.
Alicia glares at the man both before and after the love tap on her foot, but says nothing. With the woman being taken away, she doubts they would unchain her to lavish her with their affections. No, they would just beat her bloody right here, and she would be chained and helpless to resist.
After they leave, she looks curiously at the dhampir, pale eyes inquisitive. She shrugs, at least it was something different to have happened. The monotony of the place was getting to her.
Maena nods, "To be fair, I wasn't doing it for money, so there'd be little to pay me for. I was trying to cut away the rot."
She watches the guard carefully, watching him leave, I've no doubt you'd love to "make your own amusement"... It seems the guards of Brandescar are the same sort of hypocrites as everywhere else... When Ivy speaks, she shakes her head, "No, sorry, I was lost in thought a moment. What was said?"
She pauses when Blackerly returns, watching the man, Strange... He seems to be enchanted.... That's an interesting development.
Maena follows meekly, trying to hide her surprise at the development, embracing the woman rather than saying anything that might risk giving away the game. When the man leaves, she opens her mouth to ask questions -- then stops at Tiadora introduces herself. Instead, she nods at the directions, asking only, "Should we try to be quiet about this? Or does our friend want the world to know the walls of Brandescar have failed?"
As she's handed the veil, she looks up and asks, "Is there any way we can take advantage of your hold on that weasel's mind?", before turning her attention to the item and whispering a quick prayer, At least I do not need my symbol to do this small thing.., trying to get a feel for the magic it contains.
Seeing Blakerly enter the cell, Lukasz grimaces unconsciously, the pain from the brand still fresh in his mind. However, he decided to play it smart and kept quiet. Especially since he wasn't able to move his hands enough to execute the intricate gestures needed to channel his abilities. Hearing that Maena has a visitor and seeing her led of, he thinks, So there are some who have connections even in this place. It may be a smart moves to stick close to that tiefling.
Ivy turns to the tiefling and smiles.
"The guards talk when thinking we cannot hear. And drink on duty. And gamble. And possibly cheat while gambling and drinking. The new captain apparently is not as interested in the day to day running of the establishment. All useful to know, but unable to act on from here."
Tiadora flashes a wicked grin. "Do it with or without subtlety, it matters not. Both are equally impressive."
She shakes her head at Maena's question. "Sadly, no. I can't give him too outrageous a command. He'd never obey it."
Maena shakes her head, "No. If this is to be a test, then call it such. There's no need for lies."
She pauses, then turns her head slightly as if a thought occurs to her, "Unless you're protecting your plaything... though, I will say considering his role in our branding, I can't guarantee you won't need a new toy before the night is out."
Before you get a chance to respond, the guards re-enter the room. Tiadora rises, her demeanor immediately changing back to a perfect picture of grief. "No, I cannot bear to leave you!" The platinum-blonde woman leans in and gives you a kiss on the cheek. Her lips are ice cold.
Tomas shakes his head. “I’m afraid it’s time, miss.”
She looks deep in Tomas’s eyes and says, “Thank you for letting me say good-bye. There’s no need to search my dearest. You are such a good friend for letting me see my dearest one more time.”
“Such a good friend,” Tomas repeats his voice almost mechanical. Then the watch sergeant seems to snap out of it and bows politely. “A pleasure, madam.”
Tiadora leaves unveiled. Her eyes meet the Maena's one last time and she briefly gives her a wicked smile.
Three days, telepathically echoes in your mind. Don’t disappoint me, dearest.
Your visitation concluded, you are prodded back to your cell once more by Sergeant Blackerly and the six other guards. Once there your hands are tightly shacked back to the wall and your feet are attached to the chain that runs the length of the cell. As the guards leave the cell the door closes with a loud CLANK! before the guard cadre marches down to the end of the hall and slams closed the iron reinforced cell door. Amidst the gloom and darkness of the cell block you are left in chains, alone with the other five prisoners.
After a few of minutes you all watch as the iron reinforced door at the end of the hall creaks open.
A moment later, Maena is shoved down the hallway by six guards lead by Sergeant Blackerly. Following the same routine as before the Sergeant is the first to reach the cell and he opens the door with a key from his belt. As he does so, the four guards behind him withdraw their clubs while two hesitantly open the cell with a loud CLACK!. With a careful efficiency, Maena is re-shackled to the wall and hes feet are bound to the chain that runs the length of the cell. As the guards leave the cell the door closes with a loud CLANK! before the guard cadre marches down to the end of the hall and slams closed the iron reinforced cell door.
White hair. Black dress. Not a prisoner, no chains. Must have been the tiefling's 'friend'.
Once Maena is chained and shackled and the guards have again left, Ivy turns to the tiefling.
"Said your goodbyes? Must be nice to have ... persuasive ... friends visit."
Ivy adds emphasis to the word "persuasive", wondering if the tiefling noticed Blackerly's enchanted state.
Alicia stares curiously as the lovely woman in black disappears from her view. Her cold eyes bore into the watch sergeant as he enters the cell again, reattaching Maena to her allotted space. How she'd love to wrap these chains around his thick throat and squeeze until he purpled and his eyes bulged and his tongue hung black from his mouth!
As the guards leave, she turns her angry look to the tiefling, her expression slowly changing to one of curiosity. She certainly wouldn't blame the woman for having a visitor...a chance to break the monotony of their stay. Perhaps her anger was derived from the fact that she had had no similar visitors.
Well, it appears that there is more here going on than simple guards not presenting an opportunity to influence. That woman was not the sort to be found in a place like this, and I know the glazed look I saw in the guard's eye. Perhaps there is hope here among these imprisoned with me.
The gnome sits up, rolls her neck and falls into an almost regal posture as if awakening from a long sleep. She looks around at everyone, noting who has been speaking and saying what while she lay there. She then addresses the one who has just returned, as if they were old friends. "Maena, it would appear that there is something going on here... I saw the look in the guard's eye and have little doubt that your guest was not here with the blessing of the prison. What is going on?
Maena grins wryly, "She certainly does seem to have a way with people.... but I think it safer to say she's a friend to us all."
She pauses a moment, listening for the sound of footsteps retreating before saying in a hushed tone "...or perhaps, benefactor would be a better word. She came to extend an invitation for all of us to go meet what she called a mutual friend... Of course, there's the small matter of being the first to escape Brandescar to deal with -- and it went somewhat unsaid that if we're not crafty enough to manage that, well, her patron no longer wants to meet us."
She pauses, looking at each of the others, trying to ensure she's caught their interest, ...on the plus side, they're not like to spare any of the branded, even for turning in the rest of us..., before continuing and revealing the final, important detail, "To that end, she gave us a magical veil which will hold the keys to our escape."
Alicia has been lounging at this point, giving the woman her idle curiosity. At the gnome's questions and the tiefling's answer, she instantly straightens up, her arms flexing as she peers intently at the veil. "Alright, then, lets see these keys!"
She hisses this out, her blue eyes darting to the guard's room before back to Maena and the veil.
Ivy's blue and red eyes open a bit wider. Powerful friend to get even this far. What is the catch? No such power comes freely. Then again, not many choices. Hate being in debt to anyone, let alone a stranger... but beats the alternative.
"Fair to say, I am interested in meeting someone willing to contract my services. Not the first client to have me prove my services with a smaller test kill. First one that will be so... personally interested... in accomplishing."
"Hmm..." is the only sound Moriarti makes upon noticing the woman in the black dress.
Still having given no indication that he's even really noticed the others, he listens as Maena begins explaining what she knows. Small matter indeed. I never had any intention of rotting in this cell.
Finally, when the tiefling mentions the veil, he stirs.
"Well, this is the first, useful thing any of you have said," he lies.