Morris didn't like this. He was uncomfortable with the insane amount of attention suddenly drawn to him.
"Yes, the Margravate hasn't turned a blind eye to these murders. Nevertheless, I don't think most courtless feel comfortable getting involved with the courts, given the current, delicate situation in this freehold." He said softly. He tried to choose his words carefully, the high ups were watching him and if he didn't rep his people right, chances are someone would find out. "The investigation is the top priority, so I'm not about to do anything that'll hinder our efforts on it. But the second this becomes more than an exchange of information on the problems facing this city, I'm out. Just like that." He says glancing at the exit. "Detroit will always come first, but we can't get involved and we certainly aren't about to be lead by the Winters. It's simple as that." He said in a vague reference to his oath. He was terrible at public speaking. He paused, he sweated, he probably even stuttered, but he felt he got his point across.
Morris stopped and turned around. He wasn't used to drawing attention much. Her confrontation was enough to nearly confirm his suspicions. Her words about protecting the others was right though. "Well damn, you're more well informed than I thought. You got me there, but lady, a power play was exactly what this little get together was marketed as, to be blunt. And at this point, that's just out of the question. But if it's not what it is, then what is it? You don't trust the current guy to confront these issues himself?" He said sounding somewhat irked. Though he was actually glad someone remembered his title for once.
"....B*tch" He mutters under his breath with his head hung low. He watches the bird lady carefully, seeing as she was the first suspected mystery boss he'd seen. Then it suddenly occurred to him that some of the Knights or one of their affiliates may be in this very room. He surveyed the crowd for the mouthless weirdos, before walking towards the exit. He didn't plan on staying long. As much as he hated Stern, he didn't want to be placed on his sh*t-list for just being there.
Morris groans. He speculated about what was happening here as he surveyed these courtiers in the room. Court politics at its worst, but damned if he wasn't there to see the train wreck.
"Yep, no shortage of people who don't know anything. All's I know is it's stretched to the Brim"
The Brim. That reminded him of something. He decided to give his contacts there a call. Just like courtiers to think they're the only ones that can solve a problem.
"Excuse me for a sec."
He walks off to a secluded corner of the room to call one of his fellow members of the Margravate to see what was going on there with these numbers.
Morris pulls his beat up looking burner out of the thick brown jacket he wore just for this occasion and texts back.
to Leon wrote:
Got out fine. No fighting. Got nothing. Going to Jack and radioguys to find out more. L8r. B at Rich Franklin w/ winters.
He thought deeply about the potential separatist elements in the Winter Court, he knew the two radio guys were probably a part of it but there was obviously more to it.
Morris took the leaves of the Coupenettle back to his flat and made himself some tea out of it. He poured it into a thermos just like his pa used to. He figured it might be useful. He stood outside his shop, watching the cars go by before he got the call from Jack.
"What? A meeting? With those guys. Daaamn, you know, I normally wouldn't touch this garbage with a 40 ft pole, but you make it sound like a gas. I'll show up. For about, 20 minutes I guess. Bound to be alright for business."
That guy was a serious guy after all. And if he came knocking, it must have been some serious stuff. He repeated his mantra in his head. Don't get too involved; it's just business.
Naturally, he comes packing. Trust was in short supply. He put his machete in a compartment in the same small bag he was using for the tea thermos.
Spoiler:
I'm going to assume the tea will retain the effects of the Coupenettle.
Morris creeps all the way back to the Detroit city limits. He could have almost laughed at how bewildered those Summers were. He tries to keep nice and warm while he arrives in his home turf and breathes a sight of relief, which resulted in just a little bit of coughing, but he was used to that. Morris trudged into his flat which was near the pawn shop, popped open a can of beer and watched his tv using unreliable electrical wiring and less than legit cable. He calls Jack, only saying,
"Made it back safe Scales. Later"
He doses off in his armchair. When he wakes up he goes to the main hedge gate used by the Margravate of the Brim. He needed glamour if things were about to get rough. He didn't like doing it, but he had a nice spot in the hedge where he could harvest the stuff by finding trinkets and fruits and stuff. He spends what feels damn over an hour using his machete to clear away obstacles just hoarding the stuff. He thought about fixing up a little base here, but he didn't want to until he believed it was absolutely necessary.
Morris will head home, have a nice brew and watch tv. Then he'll head out to the Margravate's main hedge gate. At that point I'll do some Wits+Composure+1 rolls to represent his Hedge Bounty harvesting, unless you got something else in mind. He'll probably top off, so to speak, it's just a matter of how long it takes.
As for the split party stuff, I guess sometimes it makes sense in character is all. Like here we got a bunch of different directions we could have gone in and people with different affiliations and skillsets so some of these directions could have more appeal than others.
That being said, I've sort of been trying at least to keep Morris from going off on his own and that's the most I can do now until the direction everyone wants to head in becomes clearer. A group would make things more efficient I feel, but I figure we should take it slow. Maybe start by reeling in the folks that went off on their own. I think the good thing about this individual stuff was everyone got to do what they were best at. Sometimes group stuff gets in the way of that. But I'm fine with everyone being together if it keeps stuff from getting muddled.
Morris concealed himself in Darkness and crept to his destination, not even really breathing while he did so. Hopefully he'd be home free by the time the darkness dispersed. Morris didn't like hiding, but his potential clients wanted to jet without confrontation so he used whatever messed up 'gifts' they'd given him to oblige.
Morris exhales a long line of dust out of his lungs as he thinks hard. "Alright, don't say s%&+ and have them follow me. The don't say s$!! thing goes doubly for them." He slips on his brass knuckles and gestures with his neck for the others to follow him. "I don't like doing this, but something about those guys pisses me off. You'd better have something good for me later though. He maneuvers through the crowd as best as he could and uses his knowledge of the city and of the being discrete in general to get them out as quickly and quietly as possible.
I'm going to make 3 rolls here. Just what I feel is appropriate here. Hope I don't botch any too bad.
Morris sits around, contemplating going home or after the Knighthood. He briefly considers telling the poor dumb grunt just what he thought about their 'queen', but holds his mouth shut for now. As he waits for someone to do something really dumb, he tries to see if he can pick out any higher ranking Summers nearby. Not a grunt. Someone who might know something.
Morris stares at talon guy with dead fish eyes and swirls his drink around. "Mhm. Something's going down, ain't it. I guess I don't mind so much if sharks screw over other sharks. Even if I wanted to, there's not much I can do about that. It's in their nature after all. But I ain't no coward. Anyone saying I am is full of sh*t. You don't get to be a lord by being a coward, but you also gotta have working a frontal lobe. See that's the difference between us guys and you guys. No offense. That's just where you sharks placed your priorities. Now if your people want something with me, I'd suggest you say it now. I'm leaving soon and I think I may have something to look into regarding the former queen."
Let me know if I'm overusing this or if you don't think it's appropriate gm. Though it seems I have misread the importance of the guy, so maybe disregard some of that if you wish.
"Hey gimme another shot guy." said Morris as he pretended to ignore the summers and stayed put. He rapped his fingers on the counter. He sensed something was up but chose to not get involved not just yet. Nevertheless, he slipped a pair of brass knuckles into his left hand underneath the counter. He kept it close just in case.
"Yeah I don't think I'll be talking to those two. Leon, you're free to try, but don't mention my name." He said, glancing at the two radio guys briefly. Morris took his shot and turned to Jack as he just recalled something important. "Oh, one more thing about the Knighthood. They're Winters. Maybe it'd be best if one of their own talked to them or came along to deal with 'em. As for your friend, I dunno, guess we should keep an eye on her."
"Naw, just beat the sh*t out of him for not paying up or whatever. A protection racket." Morris wrinkled his nose and continued to speak but lowered his voice into a whisper. "I know who those two bums are. I also got 3 guesses on the mystery boss. Way I see it, it's either Stern, Yuki, or...and this one's kind of a stretch, the former Queen Isabell Doucet. Either way I'm being played and that's some sh*t I don't like. I figure maybe I could go talk to some of them 'Knights of Silence' and get some of this mess straightened out, but that means dealing with more sharks." He groaned and resumed drinking.
"Well I was going to head to the market. Figure if anybody's been trading human organs for stuff and what's with the prices being jacked up." He took a drink and paused for a second. "...something still don't feel right here you know. I mean like, Summer building up, public killings, market prices being jacked up. This is all the sorta stuff that would piss off any fancy winter high up on its own you know. And those numbers resetting without the wild hunt marching through. Only odd one out is that new order coming through." He chugs his beer some until it's about half full. His sockets twisted into a glare. "I don't like being played Leon. I don't know much about dreams, but I know enough about politics to know it never hurts to be at least a little paranoid. I'm thinking what we do is we keep tabs on that bum from before and focus on the order, while narrowing down who hired us. "
"Aw damn these guys. I really coulda used a break from the sharks. Gotta be something in this place that keeps drawing 'em." He mutters as he surveys the other customers. "Whatever. I'll make do." He slumps over with his head down and sits on a stool, lifting his skull to call out to the bartender. "Lance, get me a beer and a shot. God knows I could use it."
Morris hops back in the car without hesitation "Harry's not a concern right now, though I can probably find him if you want. Though I don't see why you gotta make promises you probably can't keep. Whatever bro. I need that drink." He surveyed the damage. "Old guy did a number on this thing. Hope we don't get stopped.
[dice=Streetwise on "Harry from the east side"]7d10[/dice]
exploding:1d10 ⇒ 10
"Maybe you can work something out with Harry if we find the prick, but I don't think that's our priority quite yet. Especially if this guy here won't enlighten us on anything." He stares at the old guy and looks for signs of injury or anything unusual. The number changed back to 9, but the car or the two guys might have still left the poor geezer pretty messed up.
Morris nods his head. He mostly just stalled the whole time with a dead look in his eye, hoping to avoid unnecessary violence. "Damn, we almost got mugged by the two guys from Looney Tunes. Good work. They don't want me getting in anymore fights than I need to." He looks down at the old man's hand. "So does this just reset or what? The one guy said it didn't really involve my Keeper. That's good."
Morris was mostly silent the drive there. He looked kind of pissed that an outsider made him go to a part of town with nothing really there for some secret meeting. Like, what was wrong with the mall. He could've gotten some new sneakers. He damn near jumped in his seat when he saw the Morris got out of the car. "S$*~, what do we do. It's pulsing. Should we amputate it or something. I never considered what would happen if it was amputated." He started running after him. "Uh sir are you okay?" he called out into the alley.
Morris took out his own beat up looking burner and looked at it, though he was pretty unresponsive when it came to the exchange of contact info "Finally those winters leave. Think this place just got like 10 degrees warmer." He glances over at Jack. "Um, no offense." then grudgingly muttered "Sorry for the insults"
"Yeah sure. I think I'll get a drink and then maybe we'll figure something about them murders. Hit the streets running and get to the bottom of this incredibly rare and strange event. A murder in Detroit. Who woulda thunk." He said as he got up and headed out the door.
He sure was surprised he didn't have to fight anyone here physically. Though he might have come close there at the start.
Morris nodded his head at the previous statements, except for Amy's, which he scowls at. "Hell, I don't know what you want from me, I'm just a cashier." he said with a vaguely shifty look in his eyes. "But if you can, relay to this 'client' that we got a right to know who's employing us. Last thing I need is to play PI for some shadowy prick with a hidden agenda."
Morris snickered at his sudden loss of cool and then thought for a second. "Honestly you don't sound like you got much now. I will corroborate that what they are saying is true. Same thing basically happened to myself. Cat's out of the bag. I guess I'll have to go with what you said to figure out the benefactor by myself. My guess is some winter or autumn court higher up. And I'm guessing Kindred is the name of a terrible metal band, but I could be wrong. Now tell us these 'happenings' which are probably only tenuously connected to this predicament and we'll see how it goes." he said with a glazed look in his sockets.
He stands up and looks back at Jusef. "Yep, one useless go nowhere piece of information from one party that don't know what to do with it to another I guess. Now out with it, while we're young. I want that drink already."
Morris ignored this talk about keepers. His was a real scary old bastard, and he feared that this information was too valuable to give away to just anyone.
"Alright, so from what I gather, first of all, in a weird way, this guy's whole racket thing is not...dissimilar to mine you see. He trades in the information though. He's doesn't side with anybody, but don't screw anybody neither. Second he's like, at least 80 or something. He's like got eternal youth or something I guess." He says quietly to Leon.
Morris spoke up to the not-human again. "Alright, so I'm going to level with you gramps. I know you ain't doing this out of the goodness of your heart or whatever. You seem like a businessman type right. I also know you ain't human and you sure as hell ain't one of us and I'm not too happy about non-human outsiders being brought into our business y'see. I mean the wizardy dude was bad enough. Maybe next we'll start having multiethnic gangs of therianthropic thugs if this continues. To say I am apprehensive about working with you is an understatement. I know you have a very good reputation, but only our kind would understand the seriousness our issue, and I have to wonder who exactly decided you was best for the job. So here's my bottom line: I would like to what you are and who is this client before I agree to anything. When I know exactly what I'm agreeing to and who I'm dealing with, we can get on with this 'trade'." Morris glanced around the room.
"I can tell this is a....relatively smart group. They're not going to immediately agree to just anything no matter how scared and desperate they are. That s@@+ carries weight here."
(1 sux on occult, 4 sux on streetwise for Jeremiah)
Morris stared blankly and rubbed his eye sockets for a bit. "Yeah, I might know something." Morris says between hissed teeth. "First of all, he's not one of us but not human, and that's a red flag to me. I was expecting some high up winter court a#+%@$~, but now it's some third party city dirtbag with some 'mysterious benefactor'." He cleared his throat, coughing out some more dust. "Well, I'd prefer not to swim with sharks if I can avoid it, and no offense, but until I know more, a lot of you seem an awful lot like sharks and I took an oath against that, so let's get this over with. Then I can go off and get a drink or something." he said as he leered at Jeremiah.
OOC NOTE:
I'm going to assume 1 success is enough after the penalties to know that Jeremiah is not a 'ling or a human without, I dunno, establishing a telepathic connection with Jusef.
Morris could not quite contain how displeased he was with the current crowd. Echoing Leon's sentiment, he nearly groaned when the two sadsack ones starting pouring in. Bunch of Winters, coming in, acting like the owned the place, making everything cold.
"I'm not with those guys." He said defensively to Jeff. "I ain't even within this prick's jurisdiction. Now he's making me wait, this is b$+%@+%$ man."
He left out the part where he popped in from time to time to do 'business'. The tyrant might have wanted to impose more authority over whatever he was doing. OWN him like all the others. He couldn't have that. Not that he didn't probably know already.
Morris walked slightly further from the group and waved Leon over. He whispered to the artist "I think it would be best if my activities in this city were downplayed. Got nothing to hide, but if Jeremiah tries to impose authority on me, it's bad for business you see. We'll chat later if ya want."
Morris stared blankly for a minute. Gazing into the distance with his empty looking eye sockets. Then he burst out laughing. Morris laughed so hard that he started coughing out reddish colored dust. "Oh man, haha, these guys only take the best and brightest eh?" he followed his words with a hacking cough and some more laughter. "Get a load of this guy. Demanding to know who I am." He took his hand with the number, which had a big scar running down it out of his pocket. Then he balled both his hands into fists. His tone changed. "Seriously big, dumb and ugly, sit down, shut up and don't do nothing stupid. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't supposed to be."
Morris paced around the entrance uneasily. He shouldn't have come here. He had a bad feeling. He's been getting a lot of that lately. The back of his hand had a fresh scar from when he tried to cut the number off in one of his...more impulsive moments. Since then he'd been trying to put a stop to that kind of behavior. He didn't want to be kicked out of the Brim for being a headcase like some of those court scumbags. Morris kept away from the Hedge for good measure too. Sure it was duty to be vigilant and stuff, but he needed a break for once damnit. Considering the circumstances was more than fair in his opinion. He heard some garbage about a meeting for the people with the numbers on his hands, and showed up in hopes of getting some quick info, and because nothing could get much worse. Immediately after hitching into Detroit proper, he regretted it.
He stood alone, occasionally sneering through crooked, skeletal teeth at some of the passersby. He had not really met the acquaintance of the majority of the people there, since there were court people. He knew OF many people there, but he didn't get to know them personally, nor did he want to, but that didn't mean he couldn't or wouldn't gather info and use their own bs politics against them if he had the opportunity.
So Morris stood around in this polluted, sycophantic hellhole waiting for more wretched courtiers, so he could get this over with, take off and plan for the worst case scenario.
Name: Morris Ashad
Concept: Rebelious young man with his ear to the streets
Virtue: Charity
Vice: Sloth
Seeming: Darkling
Kith: Gravewight
Court: Courtless(Margrave of the Brim)
----------------------------------------
The Darkling Seeming's Blessing is an Eye for Secrets – the Darkling gains 8-again on all Wits rolls and may spend glamour to add dice to Wits rolls, and gains 8-again whenever they Push themselves on a Finesse roll (a roll involving Dexterity, Savvy, or Wits).
Curse
The Darkling Seeming's Curse is an Aversion to Light – the Darkling loses 10-again from all rolls while in bright light, or while in any amount of sunlight.
Background:
Morris hadn’t done much in the past 3 months. Most of it was just spent trying to piece together what the hell happened. What went wrong? The man….the thing that took him, spoke as if he’d broken some rule; some incomprehensible, ancient rule which made little sense to the teenage son of two Syrian immigrants from the Detroit suburbs. The kind of rule which only makes sense to these strange beings, some call ‘The Others’. One of the others, this being known as the Duke of 13, snatched Morris up with his long skeletal hands and put him to work in a tower made of human bones. He spent 9 months in this spiraling fortress in a land near devoid of light. The place reeked of decay and his only company were the cries of the dead and the strange spider-people who crawled the walls. Slowly he seemed to join the ranks of these dead. Parts of his flesh rotted and fell off. His eyes became sunken; he became imbued with the dust and rot of the tower as he did his chores, which consisted of cleaning dust which never seemed to go away as well as moving and keeping track of the numerous dead and those who might as well have been dead. How he escaped was hazy, but he remembers he fought his way out tooth and nail when he snapped out of his slowly fading into the ranks of the dead, with faded memories and he arrived in rags on the streets of Detroit with a machete in his hand and bruises on his fists and the sound of the inhuman laughter of the skeletal abomination that kept him there.
When he got out he hitched a ride back to the suburbs, and tracked down his old home. To his surprise and disgust, he found a carbon copy of himself living HIS life. Writing for his school newspaper, reading his copy of The Communist Manifesto, awkwardly conversing with the protester girl he likes, getting in fights with his friends. If anything, the copy was a lot more emotional than he was. But it was all fake somehow. After a couple weeks of stalking the copy and living as a transient, occasionally finding part time work at the pawn shop, the copy seemed a little spooked for some reason. Like it got the feeling something was watching him. Since then, Morris backed off, but he knew some of them would have to make a move. Meanwhile he learned of the courts, he learned the area and the people in it. When he sought their aid, he was unsatisfied with the results and disliked many of the people in it. There he learned of the Margrave of the Brim. This was his way to escape their politics, while still remaining in the loop. If he was going to survive this existence, it was apparent he would need to exploit his skill at gathering information on what was happening with the people who had the influence and following the various trails. They guarded the area outside of Detroit, while the courts wasted their time squabbling and power-grabbing. Morris signed up. After all the Margraves told him what’s what. They even gave him free boxing lessons and a biography of Muhammed Ali, which he reads religiously The Winter Court didn’t do s#~~ but discourage him when it came to his fetch problems. The court wasn’t there for him, but that didn’t keep him from keeping his eyes on all the goings on. Since then he kept his ear to the streets while staying out of the actual court politics as possible, and keeping his eyes out for any nasties that might crawl through the hedge.
Appearance:
In his Mien, it’s hard to tell what age Morris is as most of his skin has either fallen off or rotted and turned a sickly green. His eyes sunken into a skull-like face and his mouth is oversized and full of pointy, crooked teeth. His flesh seems to cling to his skeletal body like something out of a zombie movie. He’s wiry, covered in ropey rotten looking muscle. His hair and face are covered in industrial looking rust colored ashes. When he coughs, dust seemed to come out of lungs.
In his mask he looks like a really worn down olive skinned teenager. His clothes are cheap, but utilitarian; consisting of worn looking sports clothes and torn up jeans and t-shirts, though he does have a suit that looks like hand-me-down, which he wears on some formal occasions even though it makes him look like something out of the Adams Family.
