The Talasite Gryphon, Chapter Two
Apr. 19th, 2008 03:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alliancesjr When the sun takes its cap off and the skies open up over the city it can take a while to stop. Some people wonder why it never rains in Stormwind--those are the same people that don't live at night. This night had hardly begun; the rain had just gotten started. The night is like a dark, exotic woman. It's mysterious, soothing, and comforting. Sometimes the night is the only pleasant company a joe like me can get.
The kaldorei liked their spaces open and quiet--and that’s just what the city Park was. King Wrynn had set aside a whole section of the city for the night elves, off in the corner. That had rubbed a lot of the locals the wrong way, but the elves enjoyed the special treatment and turned up their purple noses at anyone who dared complain.
I made my way through the greenery to a bright, recessed building, set in the northern wall of the Keep. The door was heavily decorated, and a large rope dangled down from the bell. The sign over it showed a glittering ruby, and gleaming red letters spelled out, "The Crimson Jewel."
I grabbed the rope – ignoring, for the moment, that I had to jump up slightly to reach it – and pulled the bell. It made a resounding clang from somewhere inside the building, and I could hear the heavy footsteps of the club’s hired muscle heading to the front door. It would probably be some burly human, I thought. One-Eye tended to hire men for their brawn, and what they lacked in brains, they more than made up for in lack of brains.
A round hole in the door slid open, and the ugliest mug I ever saw looked down at me. “Can’t read?” it said. It gnashed its broken and mismatched teeth and twisted its lips into what might have been a smile. Or a grimace. With a face like that, it was hard to tell.
“Read?” I asked. I looked around, but all I could see was the sign declaring the name of the joint.
The ghastly visage grinned at me. “Read! Read out of order sign!”
“There…isn’t one, chief,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
“Oops. Hrhrrhrhehheh.” The face disappeared for a moment, then returned, pushing a small sign out the window. It spelled out a message in hastily scribbled ink.
Bell Owt of Ordr
Plees Nok
A woman’s voice came from somewhere behind the face only a mother could love. “Jhuudhun, open the door.” I frowned at that; the voice was cool, confident and commanding. I knew that voice.
The hole in the door slid shut with a loud thud, then swung open. The muscle in a suit was Jhuudhun, a felguard. How he had gotten into the oversized tuxedo was beyond me, but I guessed by the rips and stretches around the demon's blades and bulk that it hadn't been a custom job.
The demon frowned and whined as though I should sympathize with him. “Mistress says I can't eat gnomesnack customers.”
Wonderful. Just wonderful. “Glad to hear it,” I said, pushing my way through.
The Jewel was as dimly lit as I remembered. The place was a den of sorrows and sultry delights. When a guy came here he breathed smoke and jazz and drank to bad luck or a broken heart. All around me, humans and night elves sat, sipping champagne and watching the singer on stage. Everyone was decked out in their most expensive duds; I felt out of place in my simple trenchcoat and fedora, but it didn’t matter--I was here for one thing, and one thing only.
Anyone who walked the streets at night eventually ended up here. Whether they stayed or not was up to one person. The woman who had ordered Jhuudhun around was leaning against the bar, waiting for me. Antigone was her name--Antigone Varietas. She was One-Eye’s partner, the one he trusted with all the dirty work of running the Crimson. She was also his girl; the last employee that forgot that had ended up at the bottom of Loch Modan.
She was a dark dame, with smoldering eyes and hair as black as the night outside. Her arms were clad in long black gloves, which went all the way to her elbow. She was wearing a dress of the same shade, though “wearing” was probably the wrong word for it. The black cloth hugged her hips and covered her from breast to ankle, save for a slit in the side that ran up the length of her leg. Black stalkings followed that long leg up until her thigh--the color of a desert at night--which peeked out from just beneath the part in the dress. It's a good thing her looks couldn't kill--she was already as dangerous as she was beautiful.
She stared at me with heavy-lidded eyes, lifting a black cigarette to her mouth and lighting it with a flame dancing at the end of her fingertip. She took a slow, deliberate drag, and blew out the smoke as she said, “I thought I told you never to come here again, Springstep.” This broad could stare down a dragon with ease.
One of the hazards in my line of work is looking danger in the face with a blind eye. In other words, I sometimes lack the healthy respect for a woman with a fuse as short as Antigone's that I ought to have. I tipped my hat forward and leaned up next to her. “I hear that a lot, toots.”
Those dark eyes narrowed and her lips pursed tightly. The “toots” had been going a bit too far. “What do you want?” she asked, the flame still dancing on her fingertip. My good sense finally kicked in and I decided on not pushing her any further--she looked like she was ready to incinerate me where I stood.
I played it safe. “I’m looking for One-Eye. Is he here tonight?”
Antigone’s eyes were relentless. “Why do you want to talk to him?”
I grinned. She didn’t refuse outright, which meant she’d take me to him eventually. As long as she didn't roast me first, that is. “I’m here about a missing client of his. This was the last place she was seen, so I thought I’d ask around. Can I see him?”
“He doesn’t like being bothered when Dolora is on stage,” said Antigone, using the black cigarette to indicate the woman currently singing.
I stepped away from the bar to get a closer look at the stage. The singer was a young draenai. Her skin was dark blue steel, covered by a clinging red dress that hugged her like a lonely john. She was slinking up and down the stage, catlike, crooning a soft, melancholy tune. She would pause and look into the eyes of the occasional man seated near the stage. For that moment he thought she sang for him and him alone; then she pushed away and moved on.
“She’s good,” I commented. I was too caught up in that voice to notice the understatement. The bird’s voice was entrancing, and I found it difficult to pull away.
“Mardus only hires the best,” said Antigone.
“Yeah...I know.” I sighed, and turned back to face her. “It’s important, doll.”
Antigone’s features remained unreceptive. “Who went missing?”
I frowned. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to say this without One-Eye around, but it probably didn’t matter. “Lady by the name of Katheryn MacRae.”
Well, now wasn’t that interesting? Antigone's face went pale – well, as pale as it could with dark skin. “Follow me,” she said, swiftly turning on her heel and striding away to the back of the club. Though one of the perks in my line of work was you got a read on people without them having to say much, it didn't take a private eye to see that the name had meant something to Antigone. Something important.
Mardus “One-Eye” Torwin was easy to mark. He was not a small man; you could see his muscles ripple through his perfectly-tailored suit with every move he made. His right eye was covered with a jet-black eyepatch, made of the finest silk. He wore his hair long, but had it tied back tonight, the effect giving him the air of a cultured swashbuckler--jovial, yet dangerous.
One-Eye was seated at a large table by himself. He was watching the stage with interest, his eye following Dolora. As I came up to the table, he preemptively raised a hand to silence any interruption.
"My dreams...you came to me...in my dreams..."
The owner of The Crimson Jewel shook his head, letting his eye close.
"In my--dreams..." Piano, bass, and cymbals softly ended the song, and a short ripple of applause broke the spell of the songbird's tune.
After the clapping died down, a short silence lasted until the drummer started up again with a short, "five, six, seven, eight!"
Mardus turned to me, then, his eye regarding me with concealed intent. “Mister Springstep.” he said, putting down his glass of wine. “Drink?”
I nodded, taking a brandy off the tray of a passing waitress. “It’s good to see you, One-Eye. Though it’d be better under different circumstances, I’m sure.”
The warning of bad news didn't shake him in the slightest. “What brings you back to my establishment?” he asked.
“Crawdad sent me a girl,” I said, hopping into a chair. “She gave me a case, to find her sister.”
One-Eye must have been a statue in a past life, for all the reaction he gave. "There are lots of girls who go missing in Stormwind," he said, "and none of them have anything to do with me." He shrugged. "I'd love to help, but I can't keep track of them all." He raised his wine glass for another sip.
"Mardus--" Antigone began. I cut in before she could finish, though.
“Katheryn MacRae. Heard tell she was over here, not two weeks ago.”
A muscle twitched in his face. At that twitch, I may as well have just gotten the man to shoot out of his seat and into a rage. “Kate’s missing, is she?” he asked, his voice cool and controlled. He snorted and shook his head, a smirk tugging at his face. “Damn woman just doesn’t listen.”
Antigone placed her hand on his shoulder. “She said she was going, Mardus, even after she knew what she might be getting in to.”
One-Eye frowned. “I told her not to go poking around in this.”
I decided to step in here. “Poking around in what, exactly?”
The pair turned and looked at me, as if they had forgotten I was sitting there. One-Eye glanced at me, calculatingly, while Antigone rolled her eyes and snorted.
“None of your--” Antigone started, but One-Eye held up a hand.
“No,” he said, “he should know. Springstep, Kate was asking after an object that a great many people have searched for."
"Searched for. Anyone ever found this object?"
Mardus shrugged, his eye drifting back to the stage. "If anyone ever has, they never came back. Some say the search is the curse, but that's not the case at all."
I know bad news when I hear it, even if I don't quite understand it. A search gone bad for something that no one could find and live to tell about? That was news of the definitely-not-good persuasion.
One-Eye rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Have you ever heard of the Talasite Gryphon?”
The kaldorei liked their spaces open and quiet--and that’s just what the city Park was. King Wrynn had set aside a whole section of the city for the night elves, off in the corner. That had rubbed a lot of the locals the wrong way, but the elves enjoyed the special treatment and turned up their purple noses at anyone who dared complain.
I made my way through the greenery to a bright, recessed building, set in the northern wall of the Keep. The door was heavily decorated, and a large rope dangled down from the bell. The sign over it showed a glittering ruby, and gleaming red letters spelled out, "The Crimson Jewel."
I grabbed the rope – ignoring, for the moment, that I had to jump up slightly to reach it – and pulled the bell. It made a resounding clang from somewhere inside the building, and I could hear the heavy footsteps of the club’s hired muscle heading to the front door. It would probably be some burly human, I thought. One-Eye tended to hire men for their brawn, and what they lacked in brains, they more than made up for in lack of brains.
A round hole in the door slid open, and the ugliest mug I ever saw looked down at me. “Can’t read?” it said. It gnashed its broken and mismatched teeth and twisted its lips into what might have been a smile. Or a grimace. With a face like that, it was hard to tell.
“Read?” I asked. I looked around, but all I could see was the sign declaring the name of the joint.
The ghastly visage grinned at me. “Read! Read out of order sign!”
“There…isn’t one, chief,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
“Oops. Hrhrrhrhehheh.” The face disappeared for a moment, then returned, pushing a small sign out the window. It spelled out a message in hastily scribbled ink.
Bell Owt of Ordr
Plees Nok
A woman’s voice came from somewhere behind the face only a mother could love. “Jhuudhun, open the door.” I frowned at that; the voice was cool, confident and commanding. I knew that voice.
The hole in the door slid shut with a loud thud, then swung open. The muscle in a suit was Jhuudhun, a felguard. How he had gotten into the oversized tuxedo was beyond me, but I guessed by the rips and stretches around the demon's blades and bulk that it hadn't been a custom job.
The demon frowned and whined as though I should sympathize with him. “Mistress says I can't eat gnomesnack customers.”
Wonderful. Just wonderful. “Glad to hear it,” I said, pushing my way through.
The Jewel was as dimly lit as I remembered. The place was a den of sorrows and sultry delights. When a guy came here he breathed smoke and jazz and drank to bad luck or a broken heart. All around me, humans and night elves sat, sipping champagne and watching the singer on stage. Everyone was decked out in their most expensive duds; I felt out of place in my simple trenchcoat and fedora, but it didn’t matter--I was here for one thing, and one thing only.
Anyone who walked the streets at night eventually ended up here. Whether they stayed or not was up to one person. The woman who had ordered Jhuudhun around was leaning against the bar, waiting for me. Antigone was her name--Antigone Varietas. She was One-Eye’s partner, the one he trusted with all the dirty work of running the Crimson. She was also his girl; the last employee that forgot that had ended up at the bottom of Loch Modan.
She was a dark dame, with smoldering eyes and hair as black as the night outside. Her arms were clad in long black gloves, which went all the way to her elbow. She was wearing a dress of the same shade, though “wearing” was probably the wrong word for it. The black cloth hugged her hips and covered her from breast to ankle, save for a slit in the side that ran up the length of her leg. Black stalkings followed that long leg up until her thigh--the color of a desert at night--which peeked out from just beneath the part in the dress. It's a good thing her looks couldn't kill--she was already as dangerous as she was beautiful.
She stared at me with heavy-lidded eyes, lifting a black cigarette to her mouth and lighting it with a flame dancing at the end of her fingertip. She took a slow, deliberate drag, and blew out the smoke as she said, “I thought I told you never to come here again, Springstep.” This broad could stare down a dragon with ease.
One of the hazards in my line of work is looking danger in the face with a blind eye. In other words, I sometimes lack the healthy respect for a woman with a fuse as short as Antigone's that I ought to have. I tipped my hat forward and leaned up next to her. “I hear that a lot, toots.”
Those dark eyes narrowed and her lips pursed tightly. The “toots” had been going a bit too far. “What do you want?” she asked, the flame still dancing on her fingertip. My good sense finally kicked in and I decided on not pushing her any further--she looked like she was ready to incinerate me where I stood.
I played it safe. “I’m looking for One-Eye. Is he here tonight?”
Antigone’s eyes were relentless. “Why do you want to talk to him?”
I grinned. She didn’t refuse outright, which meant she’d take me to him eventually. As long as she didn't roast me first, that is. “I’m here about a missing client of his. This was the last place she was seen, so I thought I’d ask around. Can I see him?”
“He doesn’t like being bothered when Dolora is on stage,” said Antigone, using the black cigarette to indicate the woman currently singing.
I stepped away from the bar to get a closer look at the stage. The singer was a young draenai. Her skin was dark blue steel, covered by a clinging red dress that hugged her like a lonely john. She was slinking up and down the stage, catlike, crooning a soft, melancholy tune. She would pause and look into the eyes of the occasional man seated near the stage. For that moment he thought she sang for him and him alone; then she pushed away and moved on.
“She’s good,” I commented. I was too caught up in that voice to notice the understatement. The bird’s voice was entrancing, and I found it difficult to pull away.
“Mardus only hires the best,” said Antigone.
“Yeah...I know.” I sighed, and turned back to face her. “It’s important, doll.”
Antigone’s features remained unreceptive. “Who went missing?”
I frowned. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to say this without One-Eye around, but it probably didn’t matter. “Lady by the name of Katheryn MacRae.”
Well, now wasn’t that interesting? Antigone's face went pale – well, as pale as it could with dark skin. “Follow me,” she said, swiftly turning on her heel and striding away to the back of the club. Though one of the perks in my line of work was you got a read on people without them having to say much, it didn't take a private eye to see that the name had meant something to Antigone. Something important.
Mardus “One-Eye” Torwin was easy to mark. He was not a small man; you could see his muscles ripple through his perfectly-tailored suit with every move he made. His right eye was covered with a jet-black eyepatch, made of the finest silk. He wore his hair long, but had it tied back tonight, the effect giving him the air of a cultured swashbuckler--jovial, yet dangerous.
One-Eye was seated at a large table by himself. He was watching the stage with interest, his eye following Dolora. As I came up to the table, he preemptively raised a hand to silence any interruption.
"My dreams...you came to me...in my dreams..."
The owner of The Crimson Jewel shook his head, letting his eye close.
"In my--dreams..." Piano, bass, and cymbals softly ended the song, and a short ripple of applause broke the spell of the songbird's tune.
After the clapping died down, a short silence lasted until the drummer started up again with a short, "five, six, seven, eight!"
Mardus turned to me, then, his eye regarding me with concealed intent. “Mister Springstep.” he said, putting down his glass of wine. “Drink?”
I nodded, taking a brandy off the tray of a passing waitress. “It’s good to see you, One-Eye. Though it’d be better under different circumstances, I’m sure.”
The warning of bad news didn't shake him in the slightest. “What brings you back to my establishment?” he asked.
“Crawdad sent me a girl,” I said, hopping into a chair. “She gave me a case, to find her sister.”
One-Eye must have been a statue in a past life, for all the reaction he gave. "There are lots of girls who go missing in Stormwind," he said, "and none of them have anything to do with me." He shrugged. "I'd love to help, but I can't keep track of them all." He raised his wine glass for another sip.
"Mardus--" Antigone began. I cut in before she could finish, though.
“Katheryn MacRae. Heard tell she was over here, not two weeks ago.”
A muscle twitched in his face. At that twitch, I may as well have just gotten the man to shoot out of his seat and into a rage. “Kate’s missing, is she?” he asked, his voice cool and controlled. He snorted and shook his head, a smirk tugging at his face. “Damn woman just doesn’t listen.”
Antigone placed her hand on his shoulder. “She said she was going, Mardus, even after she knew what she might be getting in to.”
One-Eye frowned. “I told her not to go poking around in this.”
I decided to step in here. “Poking around in what, exactly?”
The pair turned and looked at me, as if they had forgotten I was sitting there. One-Eye glanced at me, calculatingly, while Antigone rolled her eyes and snorted.
“None of your--” Antigone started, but One-Eye held up a hand.
“No,” he said, “he should know. Springstep, Kate was asking after an object that a great many people have searched for."
"Searched for. Anyone ever found this object?"
Mardus shrugged, his eye drifting back to the stage. "If anyone ever has, they never came back. Some say the search is the curse, but that's not the case at all."
I know bad news when I hear it, even if I don't quite understand it. A search gone bad for something that no one could find and live to tell about? That was news of the definitely-not-good persuasion.
One-Eye rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Have you ever heard of the Talasite Gryphon?”
