Verad Posted May 19, 2015 Author Share #30 Posted May 19, 2015 Take Alienne With Me - 6 (5 in thread, 1 vote in rep) Leave Alienne - 3 "When you are right, you are right," I say, bowing my head with a conciliatory manner, hands spread wide. "Go ahead and move the box out of the way so none of the other members trip over it, hm? I'll just go fetch the poster." Upon my acquiescence, she gets a grin on her face that one could read as either eager or unsettling. I opt for a charitable impression and choose the first. And why shouldn't she be eager? She is my bodyguard, after all, and it's rare that she actually gets to indulge in the act of guarding my body. That sounds worse in my head than I intend, but there's no need to revise it, I think. She bobs her head and starts scanning the garden for a good, conspicuous space to place her trap where it won't be an obstacle for the staff but still be obvious to any rogue popoto-eating apes that might happen by. Leaving her to her work, I make my way into the estate and to my office. The poster is easy enough to find once it's there. Beyond the clutter and piles of books on my desk, I keep the place organized, if I do say so myself, with samples of my dubious goods kept in a cupboard to the left of my desk and personal mementos tucked away in the dresser that dominates the back wall, behind the partition that separates work from sleep space. A moment's quick rummaging and there it is, the parchment still in good shape despite the somewhat musty conditions. Ul'dah is occasionally bad for paper with its sudden rainstorms and humid shocks, but this particular advertisement seems to be made of better stock. To ensure that there are no unusual damages, I take the poster to my desk and unroll it. And there, in all her prime, is a fine likeness of Burning Edge, dark and muscular frame clad in a very tiny amount of leather armor indeed and wielding her signature macuahuitl over her shoulder, flame-orange hair billowing in a fictional wind, a defiant grin on her face. The poster advertises her as one of a trio of exhibition matches from some twelve cycles ago. If I recall correctly, this one ended in a victory for her. The artist certainly captured her spirit. I'll confess to being lost in a momentary admiration. Whether I have it up for sale or not, it is still my poster, after all, and I am allowed a bit of admiration. Perhaps too much, as what shakes me out of it is Alienne's voice, high and sharp like a brass knife. "Wow, Mr. V, look at the tits on her! Was she one'a your harem?" Miss Sandraix has a knack for understanding the situation perfectly and yet phrasing it incorrectly. "I do not have a harem, Alienne," I chide as I look up at her from her position, peering at the poster from the other side of the desk. "I have a number of attractive members of the opposite sex living with me as employees. That is completely different." I start rolling the poster up again. "And no, she was not." "Oh, well, what's that say there?" She points towards one corner in the lower right, where Burning's script is placed in a careful scrawl. "That a misprint or something?" "'For a Burning Desire'," I say, reciting the words. This happens often - Miss Sandraix is more like the native populace than adventuring and mercantile society in being unlettered. "She was rather, ah, effusive in her gratitude after I cleared up the trouble with the debt-slavery ring." She mulls over this, her nose wrinkling, and for a moment it seems like she has more to say. Then her eyes light up in recognition, and she nods. "Okay, I got it! Lemme go get my axe and we'll go on and see this guy about this paper." She saunters out of the building as if she has a plan. The plan is probably no more complicated than hitting people who look at me cross-eyed with one part or another of the axe, but it is a plan. I have to remind myself of that as I roll up the poster and bind it to protect it in transit. Alienne is not a dumb woman. She is merely very direct. --- The trip back to the Quicksand is pleasantly quiet, and I have to say I am glad I decided to accede to Miss Sandraix's requests. Blade patrols are heavy tonight, in order to watch for criminals. It wouldn't do to have them cutting into the Blades' business, after all. A few of them glance my way, as near as I can tell with those masks of theirs, but one look at Miss Sandraix in her armor, wielding that cleaver of an axe on her back, and they think better of it. Perhaps they could overpower us both, she with her axe and I with my knives, but the cost of rolling me for whatever gil I could muster may not be worth the limbs, and so we are unmolested. By my reckoning on the time, there's still a quarter-bell left in my arrangement's deadline, but I wouldn't put it past Heidolf to think I used my claim as an excuse to leave for politeness' sake and absent himself entirely. It's a relief to see he's still there, having placed his own axe against his back, leaning against a wall with arms crossed and an absently expected look, as if there are perfectly good reasons for him to be standing there by his lonesome and he wouldn't actually be waiting for anybody, oh, no, that would be too much trouble. It's the sort of stance I normally see from Tias waiting for a date. Strange to see it on a Highlander, and in regards to such a meeting, but no matter! I am already halfway into my usual flourishing bow before I'm even face to face with the man, holding the poster across my shoulder as more demon-may-care types might do with a sword. "My apologies for the wait, and by gratitude for your patience! May I present you with your poster." He looks down at it, brow knitting in thought, before looking past my shoulder to Alienne, where she stands a not-quite respectable distance away. "Who's the Wildwood?" "Hm? Ah, my security chief, Miss Sandraix." I gesture to her. She waves, perhaps too wildly. "It is late, after all, and one can never be too sure what might occur in the streets of Ul'dah. Especially with an item like this!" I tap the top of the rolled parchment. "Go ahead, have a look." As he takes the poster and removes the binding, I take a moment to glance around the area. It's cleared up a little bit, but the Quicksand might as well be called the Myrmidon Nest for the way it always crawls with activity. Some of the customers have left, and I can't see the adventurers or the brooding elezen, but there are no doubt more. Once this matter is resolved I'll be sure to look for another customer. Presuming the bad streak is resolved, of course. "Huh, I remember this match," he says, and I turn back to see he's unrolled the poster and is scrutinizing it. "And it is signed!" "Indeed it is! Now, normally I would suggest a price of fifty gil for this piece of material, based on market value. But given the signature, I think that raises the price considerably, to at least a hundred and fifty." This is an outrageous sum compared to any of the items in my usual stock, but he seems like a collector and enthusiast, and if I'm going to end a cold streak, I'd like to do so in spectacular fashion. "'For a Burning Desire,'" he mouths, looking over the signature. "Was this for a fan? Seems like a signature for a fan." "Naw, naw, she wrote that 'cause Mr. V used to bang her!" My mouth was only halfway open, my brain only a fraction of an ilm away from formulating a better response. The circuit between Alienne's mind and her tongue is a very fast one indeed. I am, for the moment, frozen. Heidolf, however, is not. His eyes lift from the poster to scan over my face. "Wait, you knew her?" Alienne is quicker to respond. The fact that she is direct also means that she can, at times, be very very dumb. "Yeah, he used to make her effuse all over the place! You gotta watch out for this guy, he's a real charmer with the ladies." Can a beard turn red? Is that possible? Faces can, certainly, but a beard? I'll have to find a mirror, or a reflectively-polished mug. It's probably not a bell before I clear my throat and regain my composure, but I manage a response in what feels like that time. "I did have a personal relationship with Miss Edge in recent moons, yes," I say. "But please, don't mind the sentimental value of the poster. One-hundred and fifty gil should be enou - " I had my hand outstretched as if to indicate where the sum could be placed, and I feel pressure on it. A quick glance, and I see he's clutching my wrist through the sleeve of my tunic, looking up at me through the small difference between our heights. "If you knew her," he says. "Then please, help me." Neither of us expected this move, and I can hear, Alienne from behind me, reaching for her axe. Her armor always clatters in a certain way when she does so. My eyes, however, are fixed on his. This is the first serious shift in his expression that I've seen. Posture, tone, these have changed when I've spoken with Heidolf. But this is the first time the eyes have changed, have shown a desperation, a widening of the irises. "Now you oughta let go of Mr. V," she says, very politely. "Or I'm gonna have to crack open your skull on account of - " I hold up my other hand. "No. No, Alienne, it's fine. Let's hear him talk." 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Verad Posted May 21, 2015 Author Share #31 Posted May 21, 2015 Page 96: Proper introductions are made, and we then wait a few minutes at the railing until a table clears, silence between the three of us. For once, even Alienne is quiet, though this appears to be more a matter of examining the arse on a passing Seeker woman than out of any sense of pensiveness. I'll take whatever opportunity I can get for something that appears respectful, and Heidolf seems more eager to talk only once he's seated. Besides, it is a nice arse, I must admit. Finally, a table opens near the center edge of the Quicksand, and Alienne vaults over the rail to claim it before anyone else can. Our customer and I follow suit shortly after. Aya approaches and offers our drinks. It's the usual for me, and she is of course happy to make me suffer through qiqirn firewater at my request, it being the worst drink, in her opinion, and an ale for Alienne and Heidolf. Only after she has half-skipped towards another table does the man seem willing to speak. The desperation of his request has faded to something subdued, the initial burst of emotion seeming more like a frightened animal peeking out of its hiding-hole now, only to retreat for fear of capture. He folds his hands together, coughs and shuffles. "Well, ah, if you know Burning Edge, personally - " "Does he ever!" Alienne interrupts. I shoot her a glare, and she makes a buttoning motion near her lips, falling silent. "In the interests of full disclosure, I've been out of contact with her for some moons now. But yes, I know her outside her role as a former arena fighter, if that's what you mean." There's relief on his face, but the rest of him remains tightly wound, and he leans forward in his seat. "Good. That's good. I mean, people knew where she was when she was trading debts, but she seemed to have fallen off the shores once she got of the business. If you know where she might be - " I hold up a hand. "I might," I lie, "That's so. If you're asking me to put you in contact with her, I could. But she had debts of her own, did she not? I would hate to have people pursuing her only to make nuisances of themselves." Aya returns with the drinks. Their ales look quite pleasant in comparison to the horrific smell coming from the metal thimble she sets in front of him, an odor noxious and sharp enough that it feels as if my beard is curling. I don't think I'm quite ready to drink it yet, and it's a good thing that she's seen the effects of it often enough that she doesn't stay to watch, taking her payment and a generous tip. "All that said, why don't you tell me why you need to find her? Without the shirt, and the axe, and the - " I pause. "Well, it's easy for a man of your particular tribe to appear menacing given the last two points, you must admit. You have the look of a collector." He nods as I speak, "That's so. The shirt, well, it was just hotter than I like out tonight. As f'r the axe . . . " He sighs. "There's a story to that. All right. You know Burning Edge. How much do you know about her last match?" "What she's told me," I say, gripping the thimble like it's the trigger of a gunblade and I'm not quite ready to pull. "It ended her career rather decisively." "Not just hers." Heidolf says this with something between a snort and a sigh. "Next question - have you ever heard of Tristram the Treant?" The name escapes me, and I'm about to say so when Alienne pipes up. "Oh, yeah, I heard'a that guy! Fella on one've my old ships had his pitcher all done up on the wall. Weren't he like eight fulm or something?" "Thereabouts. Big fellow, uncommon large for an elezen in height and weight. Strong, too. Good win record, few losses. Tended to get used in gimmick fights, you know - see who was strong and brave enough to best the blessed of the Shroud, he gifted with the power of the trees . . . " Heidolf trails off, lost in memory, before recalling his location. "Let me get to it then. Proper introduction. Heidolf Hexte, and good to meet you, ser. Cycles back, I was Tristram's trainer." His name doesn't ring a bell, but I am not overly familiar with the particulars of gladiatorial management from so long ago, at least where such information does not appear in my memoirs, and his name does not. But I can see where he is going with this, at least a little. "A pleasure ser. And from the preamble, may I be so bold as to presume that Burning's last match was one such 'gimmick' fight against your man Tristram?" Heidolf's knuckles turn white around the handle of his mug. "He had a temper," he said. "He wasn't dumb - everybody thought he was dumb, you know, as big as he was and how we advertised him, but he was a clever thinker, good strategist. There was still that temper, though, and sometimes the wrong hit the wrong way could make him lose his cool. Even that wasn't a problem in his matches; he'd get mad, knock the opponent down, they'd yield, that'd be that, the Treant standing in triumph. That's just how it went. "I don't know what it was about that match. It was the usual beforehand, the usual organizations and promotions and threats and such. Maybe it was the look in her face. Maybe she smirked the wrong way, or mayhaps he fancied her and he couldn't stand the humiliation. I don't know. But she got a good hit just so - " He reaches out with the side of one hand to tap against the side of my forehead from across the table. "There, right against his helm. Dazing blow, nothing serious. And he lost his temper. Bashed her face in with a shield and was near to tearing her arm off even after she yielded." Here is where I take my drink, as much to chase off the thought of Burning in her prime with her arm nearly gone as to give the man a moment to collect himself. Qiqirn firewater is a good way of clearing the mind of unpleasant thoughts, as well as the stomach and bowels of their respective contents, but I have a strong enough taste for the stuff that all that happens is a profuse coughing fit and the liquidation of the contents of my nostrils. My distraction gives Alienne a chance to speak, and she kicks her legs onto the table and drains her mug. A bit spills out past her lips. "Yeah, I hear ya, that's rough, ain't it Mr. V?" she says as she wipes off her mouth. "So you want us to go kick this tree guy's ass? I dunno if we do that kinda thing." "We - we don't, Alienne. I don't think that's what he wants. Is that so, Ser Hexte?" "No! No, not at all. Things just got worse for Tristram from there. Burning's career was over after that match, and it's not like there hadn't been countless deaths in the Coliseum, but even so, after that nobody trusted him to face their fighters. People thought he was either too dumb or too mad. We tried to do exhibitions, feats of strength, sideshows before the main event, you know, but - people just thought he was too much of a brute for the bloodsands after that. That match ended two careers. "He fell out of the circuit. Didn't have any family back in the Shroud, so he took to laboring around the city. Took to smoking, you know." A pointed look in Verad's direction. "Started getting in fight, bad ones. It was, ah, I don't know - it was like a mummer so used to being in one part in a play that he was playing it all the time." Suddenly possessed of the urge to sneeze, I fish for my kerchief within the confines of my vest. "I think I can relate to that. You didn't try to give him a hand?" Heidolf lowers his head and glances away from the table. One has to read his eyes carefully, I've noticed. A slight flash here or there gives away more than his physical movements. That they are downcast here, at all, says much. "As much as I could, over the years. But my own reputation was harmed as well. Couldn't handle my fighters, people said, so my means were pretty mean. I helped him out with work and gil where I could, checked in on him the same. 'S why I'm here. "Past few moons when I've looked in he's been odd. He - " "He didn't happen to pick up one of those relics, did he?" I share a glance across the table with Alienne, who nods. Another rearing up of that problem is quite unwelcome. "What? No, nothing like that. It's just like he's been obsessed with Burning. He didn't seem to mind much that he'd lost the match when it was done, years ago, but it's been all he's been talking about. Buying up old posters and match info. I thought he was just reminscing, but the more I talk to him the more it's like . . . " He rubs his hand over the back of his head. "It's like he forgot. Like everything that happened from the match to now just vanished and he's been fixated on doing this one thing he recalls, clear as a mirror. Like he knows he has to beat Burning again, but he can't find her, so he's snapping up all he can. And I think somebody's making him think that way, teasing him into doing it. "And that's bad enough, sure, but he's been getting into fights again, and I think the wrong kind. I went to his flat and his hands were bloodied down to the knuckles. Thought somebody was supplying him something new, so I came here hoping to maybe scare up a somnus dealer and put the hurt out. And then there you were, Ser Bellveil. And now we're here." He falls silent. I don't speak. Alienne's look is quite puzzled. "Ah, you know, this sounds real complicated and stuff. I mean meaning no disresprect, Mr. H, but I betcha I can put you in touch with a hooker lady who looks just like her if you let - " "What do you need me to do?" "What? Come on, Mr. V, you don't wanna - " "We're interested. I can set you up with our rates for our Dubious Detection services if need be." Alienne tries to interrupt again, but I lean forward. "If you need assistance, Ser Hexte, I will provide it to the best of my ability." Eyes straight ahead, elbow on the table, my attention focused on him entirely. I will not let her stop this. "I just - if you know Burning Edge, then find her, please. Bring her here, and maybe we can show Tristram it's over. The match is done. If it's something in his somnus and there's no bringing him back, that's life. But if that will push his memory, then I'll take the chance." I smile. "I am at your service." If my hands are shaking, or my grin is a little forced, I think I can attribute that to the firewater. Fortunately, nobody comments. --- We arrange for payments as Aya clears away our drinks. Heidolf is not a rich man, but he has at least a little money saved, and I don't require much in the way of compensation, especially given the circumstances. In the end, he decides to leave me with the poster - it was just a means of jogging Tristram's memory, and no more, it seemed, rather than a purchase made out of actual enthusiasm for Miss Edge's career. No matter. I consider this a sale made, and one well-earned. A shake of the hand and he leaves the tavern to his own business. Alienne is sharp enough to wait until he's out of earshot. "Mr. V, this is a real, real bad idea," she says, pursing her lips. "Yer gonna get yourself kidnapped again you keep poking your nose in things, and then ain't nobody gonna pay me." "It's fine, Alienne," I reply, signalling for Aya's attention. "He just needs us to find a person, that's all. Besides, since the good Gentleman Inspector left the city, the detecting business has been an open market. High time we took a try at it, don't you agree?" "Okay, yeah, that's fine, but you oughta make An or that new girl or the reporter lady do the work, you know? You ain't gotta do it yourself on account of you get your ass kicked a lot." "I hardly need to do that at all. You're here with me, are you not? And if not you, there's no shortage of people who can assist me. The people at the estate, friends in the Sworn and the Flames . . . why, even Miss Foxheart might be willing if I asked." I hold one hand to my chest and the other up in the air. "I solemnly swear in the name of Oschon to abide by the Martyrdom Clause for the duration of this. I shall follow well-traveled roads, and stay well on the beaten path. All right?" She folds her arms and huffs. "Fine. So how you wanna do this?" What should Verad do next? 1. The simplest way to handle this is to do what Heidolf asks and seek out Burning Edge. What's more, she might be able to tell me more about this final match and fill in details Heidolf could have missed. When last we had spoken she was a dockworker at Vesper Bay. It just so happens that I have a certain connection there which could make finding her very simple indeed. 2. But if Heidolf is wrong, and Burning Edge isn't going to be enough to jog his memories, I should try to look into other avenues of inquiry surrounding Tristram. Who is he, and who does he associate with in the present? Most importantly, what is this drug that might have damaged his memories? 3. Alienne's caution is prudent here; let's take it a step farther and inquire as to Heidolf's own story. We have his version of events; it may be helpful to stop by the Gladiator's Guild and see how they match to the facts. Who should Verad take with him? A. Alienne has done quite well so far, and while her outbursts can derail a conversation, her brawn will compliment my everything else quite nicely. No sense in changing horsebirds midstream. B. Miss Foxheart has a work schedule that can be quite demanding, but she is intelligent, charming, and capable. Unfortunately, she's also highly recognizable as the best waitress in the Quicksand, so she may draw more attention than is necessary. C. If I'm looking for information, there's nobody better than Spahro Llorn. If I'm looking to cause a riot, however, there's also nobody better than Spahro Llorn. Plus the whole thing might get publicized if she finds it interesting enough. D. Write in a person here. Beware of inaccurate portrayals through the self-serving power of Verad-O-Vision. 1 Link to comment
Anstarra Posted May 21, 2015 Share #33 Posted May 21, 2015 ((3. It never hurts to have more opinions. I think we can reasonably expect them to be negative due to his fall from grace, but nonetheless. Some other detail might squirt out. As for company... C. If you're going to go to the Coliseum, bringing a reporter is a good way to get people to talk to you; they're all about fame and rep down there!)) Link to comment
Roen Posted May 21, 2015 Share #34 Posted May 21, 2015 3C! I can see Spahro can be potentially helpful... or causing trouble. ^__^ )) Link to comment
Unnamed Mercenary Posted May 22, 2015 Share #36 Posted May 22, 2015 ((3C for information riot)) Link to comment
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