Old September 11, 2010, 11:15 AM   #1 (permalink)

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Big Brother's Blind Eye [Private/Hazudar]

Timestamp: Autumn, Era XVII pf

It was a dark and musty room that Hazudar would find himself awakening to. Built solidly, the walls surrounding him could possibly withstand a few blows from the likes of Grot before crumbling to dust under such tremendous force. His eyes adjusting to the darkness, he would notice that the room was not completely void of materials as wine caskets and barrels were scattered about, their feintly sweet odor mixing in with the musky aroma of what could only be a wine cellar of sorts. Weak beams of light seemed to permeate the room from random slits and cracks up above.

"Ah, you have awoken..."

The smooth voice drifted from behind the half orc, the crime lord's chair showing no signs of anything holding him in place should he choose to turn and regard the man whom addressed him so casually. Dressed in all black, a leg crossed over the other as he sat in a chair very similar to the one Hazudar found himself, the only oddity of the man seemed to be the silver mask concealing his face. If Hazudar knew anything of the old crime world versus his new one, he might have recognized the letters 'JC' etched finely across one side of the face. The Jaded Claw was pretty much defunct these days but had been quite a powerhouse in the underworld in its hay day.

Sitting silently, allowing Hazudar to make a move of any type before continuing, the dark dressed man simply stares at the half orc through the mask's slits. Watching and weighing the man's reactions on some imaginary scale in his head, Serion was curious as to how this meeting with Hazudar would turn out, and how beneficial this meeting might be for both parties involved.
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Old September 20, 2010, 05:10 PM   #2 (permalink)
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Hazudar's bleary, crusted, bloodshot eye twitched... then slowly opened. Flicked this way and that, studying the unremarkable cellar with idle indifference. Shot wide as someone spoke up behind him, flicking nervously this way and that as the orc thought HARD about who or what this may be about.

Haz was hardly a stranger to waking up in unfamiliar places... most times, though, he could expect at least a scattering of strung out wenches, used drug paraphanelia and empty ouzo bottles to fill in his mental blanks. This... this was something entirely different.

"Hmm... no chains... no guards... no friggin' clue how I got here..." Hazudar began in his usual low rumbling growl... arching his brutish back and tilting his head back owlishly to peer at the masked mystery-man who -- the orc supposed -- he had to thank for arranging this lil get together. "Color me intrigued..." Haz licked his lips, grinning an upside down grin as he ran his eyes over the stranger. Classy mask, but what was that little mark on the side?

Unfortunately, actual reading, let alone from this awkward angle, wasn't numbered among the brute's particular talents. So, with surprising speed, he leapt off his chair and onto his feet -- whirling about to turn a hard gaze on those two graven letters.

A flash of recognition -- and Haz's fanged grin only widened.

"Jaded Claw, eh?" the brute hazarded, "Heard alla yew berks wuz dead or in retirement... so wot's an original gangsta want wiff yers truly?" Rubbing his stubbly chin in one claw, Hazudar's beady eyes glimmered with sly cunning as he stared through the peepholes in his host's false face. Though jittery, the orc was surprisingly calm given the circumstances, waiting with coiled muscle and bated breath for the... elf, did it smell like? Vyssie, maybe? To make the next move.
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Old September 21, 2010, 08:43 PM   #3 (permalink)

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"Oh my, I feel like a celebrity...an original gangsta."

Chuckling a bit, Serion motions for the orc to take a seat, his mask unmoving as the the large criminal shows interest in his suddenly intriguing situation.

"In truth the Jaded Claw is no more. I believe someone might have attempted a rebirth not long ago, a younger member of the organization. I heard it didn't go so well."

Raising a finger, he shakes it a few times as an unseen smile spreads across his face.

"That is not the subject of discussion though. My friend, Hazudar, I met you a long time ago. You would perhaps remember me, perhaps not. Either way, I have found myself in a position of government power that could be very beneficial to the two of us."

Turning slightly in his chair, Serion hooks an arm across the back an leans comfortably as he tries to read the orc's features as he speaks.

"I know that you have a knack for getting dirty jobs done, personal or business, and my new position will lead to some very dirty work from time to time. Work that I would like controlled by me, but seperate from me. What might your thoughts be before I delve deeper down the rabbit hole?"

Letting his own words fall silent, the dark elf will give the floor to his would-be ally. Hazudar and whatever crew he had behind him could be a very powerful trump card.

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Old September 23, 2010, 10:19 AM   #4 (permalink)
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"Government power, huh? What's dat, like... if ya can't beat 'em, join 'em?" asked the orc rhetorically, baring a half amused grin.

Licking some drool off his fangs, Hazudar edged closer... closer... sniffing lightly at the air inches in front of the masked man's face. In fact, the closer he got, the more the half-orc's animalistic tribal nature seemed to bare itself; nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed to slits... doing everything but sniffing the stranger's bum.

"Ya said we met before... I'm wonderin' where. Ya sure sound like scum... smell like it, too." In the crooked lingo of one Haz T. Badass, 'scum' actually came out sounding like a mark of high praise. "But yer workin' fer the goodie-goods? Sup wiff dat?" The brute scrunched up his face almost disbelievingly, the way one does when a good buddy is discovered to be sleeping with a total horse-faced hag: a kind of pity mixed with confusion and a tinge of sadness.

"I couldn't do it, meself. I mean, call me ole fashioned, but dat's juss da way it is. No prisoners, no bargains. If da Hazinator wants somepin', he takes it... ain't need no stinkin' government or gods ter GIVE me nuffin'."

Leaning back once more, the crime... well, if not LORD, then certainly crime-baronet, folded his apish arms, shrugged, and smirked.

"No offense, cutter. But rebels an' tyrants togever? Dat sorta fing just rub me da wrong way. Royals might not 'ave any standards these days, but we baddies still do. Hmm... still..."

Rubbing his chin in one scarred, rough claw, Haz's devious, degenerate criminal mind considered the offer a second time, running through various possibilities for pandemonium... "Look, if yew got dirty work, I ain't a one ter say no. So long as it don't have nuffin' ter do wiff dat uvver crap. I ain't in it ter save da system... me, I wanna see it burn. Bring da chaos back to Aelyria." The orc flashed a big, dark grin.

"Yew jus' remember dat, berk, an' mebbe we kin do business." Letting his dirty-deed-doin' claw drop slowly from his chin, Haz outstretched his hand for a shake... smirking all the while, his beady eyes glittering with mischief as they met with those behind the mask.
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Old September 23, 2010, 08:57 PM   #5 (permalink)

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Serion slaps a knee and tilts his head back as he laughs at the orc before him. It wasn't a mocking laugh by any means, but one of mirth that even Hazudar would recognize. The elf in the chair was amused by this response, there was no doubt.

"Do not get me wrong my friend. I have no intentions of working for the system so much as using the system."

Turning to sit faceing the half orc squarely, Serion raises a hand to the bottom of his mask, tapping the silver edge lightly with his finger tips.

"You speak of taking as you please, but nothing would stop the Kingdom from taking it back. Sure you would put up a glorious fight worthy of your many titles, but in the end, all great men like ourselves die with nothing special but our nametags."

Hazudar's response ensuring the man's dislike for authorities gives Serion a bit of confidence in the fact that there would be no worries in having his identity revealed. Even if the man desired to start a smear campaign or hunt him down, he wasn't worried that such activities could be quickly dispatched with little problem.

As such, the dark elf slides the mask from his face so that it would rest atop his head. Revealing his ebon features, obviously the vysstichi features that Hazudar had conjectured from his particular scent, the silver eyes would have been more revealing to his identity.

"The first time I ever met you, was outside of Abestat many eras ago. I believe the poor city was about to attacked by some rather viscious...what was that term you used? Berks?"

Hoping to draw Hazudar away from the conversation at hand for a moment, he wanted to distract the orc into a more comfortable conversation. He would veer back in time, but for now perhaps he needed to soften the orcs opinions of the initial plan he wished to present that Hazudar might better gain an understanding of the benefits.
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Old September 27, 2010, 09:43 AM   #6 (permalink)
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"Abestat, huh? Aw man, those were th' BRIGHTENINGS right there!" the brute shouted eagerly, spraying a bit of spittle, as his eyes bulged with enthusiasm. Nothing like those old war stories to get Haz's black blood pumping. The world could use another dozen Abestats, shake things up, get the bad old times started again.

"Ya had necros, orcs, raiders -- even vyssies! -- slaughterin' human filth shoulder to shoulder, blastin' the fethin' Empire ter bits... yew wuz there, eh mate? RESPECT. Anyone willin' ter stand on Lord Avanthar's side and wipe undeservin' thieves and chumps off da map has got my approval." The orc nodded slowly, eyes BURNING into those of the now unmasked dark elf. Agnostic, nihilistic, cynical and jaded as he was, Haz was still a zealot through and through when it came to wreaking havoc on Aelyria. He BELIEVED in the cause, overturning the bloated, corrupt, old order and instating a new one, to be run by an anarchic viper's nest of total raging badasses.

"I can't rightly recall yer face, cutter, but den, thar was a lot goin' on dat time. I'll take yer word, though." This guy, whoever he was, had the AURA of old-school evil about him. It was something the piggish half-breed had developed quite a snout for, sniffing out the actual street cred of whatever sleazebag he was dealing with. Masked man, mysterious motives, dark race, desire to employ Hazudar... all the elements of classic villainry were there. And that EXCITED Haz. The Aelyrian Underworld hadn't done jack in recent years, leaving the good guys to fight amongst themselves... maybe now it was finally time to reclaim the spotlight and exploit the newfound division amongst the Kingdom's would-be upholders.

"Still, I ain't about to work wiff da Man even if it's just to stab 'im in da back. ME, I gots no intentions o' using da system so much as destryoin' da system. Can't very well inspire a generation o' rebels if I ain't out thar doin' dat out in da open, where everyone can see." A pause. "Way it's always been, eh? You vyssies always been into pullin' da strings... yew just let us greenies handle th' grunt work." Haz smirked, recalling the bits and pieces he'd picked up in Narim, concerning mages in Vortex who'd lent their secret support to the orcish invasion. Mayhap he and this sneaky darkie could work out a similar arrangement.

"What yer sayin' bout the Kingdom is true, though, gotta say..." Frowning, Haz rubbed his chin. Being an orc, he didn't often think further than smash n' grab, to the consequences that might arise if any of the arcana-slinging, army-wielding officials in the government decided to descend and take back what he'd rightfully stolen. "Bashers like us been tearin' up da provinces fer ages now, wiff NUTHIN' ter show for it!!"

Growling at sting of their side's repeated failures, the orc thrust his fist into a wine keg, bursting it apart with one blow and sending fragrant liquid burbling onto the ground. Haz drank out of his cupped palm, licked his hand off, then grinned, the alcohol improving his mood. "But if yew got a BETTER plan than random terrorism and warmongerin', pal, by all means... spit it out. Jest what DO ya get outta workin' fer the Royals anyway?"
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Old October 9, 2010, 07:37 PM   #7 (permalink)

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"Yes, it is true that the vysstichi culture has bred a life of intrigue and deception while the orcs have led a tradition of openfaced confrontation."

A smile and a wave of his hand, Serion's eyes twinkle a bit with hidden mischief brimming behind the silver orbs.

"Do not think for a moment however, that grunt work is beneath me. What I get from the royals is the freedom to maneauver as I see fit without them stepping in to stop me. Why am I able to do this? Well, it's because my job is to stop people like me."

Leaning back in his seat, chuckling a bit, Serion reaches into the folds of the black cloak that he wore as Myst D'Lucian. Producing a large pouch that rang with the musical notes of golden crowns, the dark elf dangles it a bit before leaning forward and tossing the bag at the orc.

"The royals pay me quite well to find and deal with people like me, but in the end my word is what determines the importance of handling certain people. What you hold in your hand is a bag of one thousand crowns. Consider it a gift for having this meeting with me, but know that what I offer delivers an equally sized pouch every cycle for you, and half of that for up to five of your most trusted companions."

Rising to his feet and placing his hands behind his back, Serion watches Hazudar for a moment to gauge his reaction, attempt to take in any expressions that might show the man's intentions, before continuing his own thoughts.

"While you would be getting paid with royal money, being a government dog is not a weight I would desire to place on allies. Listed in my ledgers as a black ops unit, no names would be revealed of course. In essence, I would divert any crime ending operations from the governments end that looks to be too troubling for your personal operations, and ask that should I require a bit of heavy handed assistance with dealing with certain individuals and locales, that my black ops unit will be available for the job."

Raising a questioning eyebrow at the thuggish half-orc, Serion ponders how his offer will be handled. It was a win-win situation in the vysstichi's eyes, but he already knew from watching the man that Hazudar T. Badass was known for taking the path less traveled when he saw fit.
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Old October 14, 2010, 03:58 PM   #8 (permalink)
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"Crowns... puh... puh... per... CYCLE?" Hazudar stuttered disbelievingly, maw instantly filling with drool, which his blood-swelled moneyhungry tongue had to quickly lick away. Visions of crowns danced, glimmered and clinked in the orc's eyes, which soon began to sparkle with tears at the sheer joyful beauty of what he was envisioning. Oh gods yes, say it AGAIN: Crowns. Per. Cycle. The three magic words that spelt wenches, booze, drugs, bling; all in greater quantities than even HAZUDAR could consume. Almost an unthinkable concept, but there it was.

For a time the orc simply stood there, mesmerized, savoring the soft, pleasant feel of the nice, fat bag of Crowns balanced in one claw, the way a man savors a good grope at a Vagaran wench's ample bosom. He even moaned a lil as his claw squeezed firmer, as if to measure by touch alone the number of coins contained therein. In fact, much of the orc's meager self control was consumed in fighting the urge to lift the bag to his face and inhale the fresh scent of money, to place a few of the golden shimmering precious bits of metal in his mouth and chomp them to make sure they were as deliciously real as they felt.

A few more bags like these could make all his money problems go away and then some. But a continual stream of them...! Hazudar would be a rich man, able to hang with the Duncans and Keldon Elsdragons of the realm, erecting his very own phallic symbol Castle Hazenstein and fill it with a harem of bred-for-speed Al'lende bitches with finishing school accents... from there, it'd be cruising around Aelyria in his personal airship, with banknotes flying out the side, lighting up imported N'danoshi cigars with burning property deeds...

With an effort, Haz snapped out of the fantasy and calmed himself. Resumed a more business like posture. Subtly shifted a foot to conceal the large puddle of drool on the floor.

"A gift eh? Well thankee kindly." With a speed that was near instantaneous, Haz vanished the Crowns into his pocket, grinning an appreciative grin. The half-breed surely wasn't above taking candy from strangers... especially not with money as tight as it was. Crime certainly DID pay, but it was the type of crime, and who pocketed that counted. Less prone to white collar crime than shaking men by their collars and pocketing the piles of chump change that resulted, Hazudar'd probably never be rich, and his flagrant spending habits merely compounded the problem.

"As fer the other. It's a damned temptin' offer, me friend... you must be workin' fer Jorel on top o' everythin' else." Unfortunately, what Hazudar was about to say was gonna hurt him more than any of the two-dozen odd bolt and blade wounds he'd taken since coming to Secy, and it showed in the orc's haggard, regretful visage. "G... gonna have ter decline, though," the brute at last forced out, wincing as he did so. "Sorry pal, but no one BUYS da Hazinator's loyalty. Besides, it's high time ter be me own boss, me thinks."

Pride was, when you came down to it, everything. Pride was the whole reason Hazudar fought; if money was all the orc was after, he could've just done like any greedy schmuck and made Thane or Governor someplace and played Yes-orc to Prime, gradually buying up businesses and, by now, be living large in a mansion somewhere. No, at the end of a long, bloody brightening, the fact remained... greedy as he was, Hazudar had more pride in him than gluttony. And he knew, if he ever wanted to be on the level of this immensely well connected vyssie conman... if he ever wished to look baddies of this calibur eye to eye as equals, he couldn't well be on the berk's payroll.

"Still, like I said, yew got work, I'm definitely innarested. One shot payments, though. And I may as well tell ya now... deez isles are gonna be mine sooner or later." The orc's bloodshot yellow eyes flashed as he relayed his ambition, fangs bared in a savage smirk. Both he and the vyssie were playing at dangerous games, yet their methods differed drastically... and really, that got Haz to wondering, just how similar were their goals? "Dat sure ain't gonna make YER bosses happy. So mebbe we oughtn't get TOO chummy now, eh?"

Maybe he's plannin' ter kill me if he can't use me all da way... the half-orc speculated, adrenaline already starting to pulse.
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Old October 14, 2010, 04:30 PM   #9 (permalink)

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Serion couldn't say that he was completely surprised by Hazudar's final decision. It was a shame that he couldn't use the thug and his minions as he pleased when he pleased, but he also didn't have to step in the way of anything Roscarnis might decide to hurl against the criminals of Eunesia.

"It is a shame, but I will not fault you for wanting to carve your own path Hazudar."

Perhaps a benefit of this meeting was that the orc would feel an urge to propel his business quicker across the isles than he originally planned. From what Serion had witnessed already, Hazudar hadn't quite focused on any one plan for criminalizing the city of Secyclion, and good business required specialization.

"I could care less about the royals that believe their shadows loom above me. I've traversed shadows far darker than anything these surface politicians could ever imagine. Who I decide to be chummy with is my choice and my choice alone."

Reaching up to slide the mask over his features once more, Serion regards the prideful half-orc for a moment, contemplating how fruitful this venture may or may not have been.

"Do not worry though, I shall definately have work for you and your ilk. We shall be in touch I'm sure."

Turning towards a door in the ceiling, reachable by a set of stairs, Serion looks over his shoulder long enough to speak a few final words.

"And if you were wondering, we're in the cellar of the temple to the Church of Faith. I plan on making this building a point of contact for the Chief Inquisitor of the Sel'Rakrya, Serion D'Rinishad. Should you need to get in contact with me, simply tell them that you seek Myst D'Lucian, and I will not far behind."

It would not take long for the orc to realize the connection between Serion D'Rinishad and Myst D'Lucian should they do any further business. The holding of two positions in this manner was quickly stacking up quite a bit of money for the vysstichi lord, a position that he hoped would make Roscarnis and his underlings feel in control of the dark elf's movements. This was nothing more than a way for Serion to further his own martial and thaumaturgic skills, using the funding to obtain whatever means he needed to achieve his greater goal. A goal a bit more lofty than simply ruling a province or two.
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Old November 1, 2010, 01:59 AM   #10 (permalink)
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Epilogue.

For once, and in a way that was strangely out of character, the orc kept his trap shut, merely staring blankly up at this Myst character in the scant moments before the vyssie made his exit.

And he KEPT standing there. Some time passed before Hazudar realized what he was doing, still holding the bag that the dark elf had passed to him, his claws paling with how tightly they'd clenched around the golden Crowns contained therein. His jaws, too, as he found, were ground tightly together.

The orc forced himself to relax. Idly, he tossed the weighty coinpurse into the air, then caught it... then stared at it a little wonderingly.

Somehow, Haz felt as if he'd been cheated. But the money had had little to do with it. He quickly slipped it into his coat pocket; funding was funding no matter where it came from. No, it was something else that had set the thug's nerves on edge.

"He knows exactly what I'm after, but I still ain't got a clue what his REAL game is," Hazudar realized aloud, bloodshot eyes peeling wider as they stared and stared at the trapdoor the vysticchi had departed from.

Not only that, but Haz'd been so focused on the money he'd barely realized the one sidedness of the true exchange. The would-be crime boss had never made any secret of his intentions; still, he felt as though he'd paid dearly for his thousand Crowns. An' I almost didn't even see it! Damned cunnin', that vyssie, and not juss for one of his kind.

The bastard might as well have patted Haz's cheek and said, "Welcome to the big leagues, kid," before strolling up into the church proper.

"Heh. Never worry, Myst... or is it Serion? I'm a fast learner, and yew juss gave me my first lesson," the half-breed murmured to himself. Looked like the start of a very bizarre friendship... but one he had an inkling might prove to be very profitable, and not just in the usual sense.

Familiar grin back at last, the brute began trudging towards the stairs.
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