Post by Avvy on Oct 29, 2011 5:11:43 GMT -5
Name: Maitria "Silk" Shadowfist
Age: appears perhaps in her mid to late 20's, but then, she's an elf, it's hard to tell these things sometimes.
Weight: do you really want to ask her this question? She doesn't look like she'll appreciate it.
Defining Marks: None that you can 'see'
Hair: Long and raven black
Eyes: Emerald green, vibrant
Skin: Creamy
Build: Slenderly built.
Appearance: She always seems to be neat and tidy, unless she's just stepped out of a fight, then she might be a bit ruffled up. There's tiny creases at the corners of her eyes these days, she's tired, very tired. If you happen to notice her hands, the fingers are calloused, tough from years of playing instruments.
Family :
Husband-Terrance "Ghost" Shadowfist
Children-Ariana Shadowfist, Anaira Shadowfist, Robinson Shadowfist
Nephew-Cassius Shadowfist
----
How she came to be in Siranda
Silk sat in the House. Her long black hair was being brushed for the seventh time that day, it had been washed five, perfumed three. She wasn't to move as she was pampered and primped. It was her time to go out. A deep red stain was applied to her lips, black khol to her eyes. She winced a little as the brush was set aside and the twisting began. She had to be perfect in every possible way. There couldn't be any suspicion as to her real reason for being there.
"Maitria, pay attention."
The voice cut through her thoughts and emerald green eyes flicked up to the elder woman standing to her left.
"Two other agents are going in with you. They're Guardians though, not an Extractor. You'll be on your own most of the time. You have got to make sure these negotiations don't fail, at whatever cost."
Silk lifted her hands and flicked her fingers to the Matriarch, acknowledging silently her understanding of the situation. She had been briefed already, had read the reports on the scenario she would be entering. She'd worked for this client before for other negotiations. She knew it wouldn't be easy, or really that pleasurable, but that was life. You didn't get to pick and choose your missions. You just accepted them.
"You're going by sea to a port city called Kalaram on the island nation of Siranda. It's ruled by a royal family. You may meet them during your stay, you may not, be ready in case though. Your client will be staying as guest to Lord Withermont. He's a minor noble on the island, but he's not the real objective. Your client will be trading you out if it's needed. You'll have to be smart and pick up on the extended client's desires, but they'll only see you as a Courtesan, do not drop that appearance for anything. Make sure his negotiations happen. Meet up with OUR informant in the city and get the information we need. You'll be there for two months before he's scheduled to return. "
Unable to stay silent any longer the elf parted her ruby lips.
"Really Mother, I know how to do my job, I've been doing it for sixty years already and training since I was five. I don't need all these reminders."
"SILK! You will show more restraint and control of yourself then that. Remember who you are, what you are."
"I know what I am, and what I'm supposed to be. I'm a glorified whore who is good at getting men and women to talk between the sheets."
"You can't be reasoned with when you're in one of these moods. Why do we even keep you?"
"Because I'm the best you have and everyone here knows it."
"This is true. There, you look finished."
Silk looked at herself finally in the mirror. Her hair was braided and twisted up on her head, falling over one shoulder. She wore a gown of soft teal satin, the bodice tight and cut low to reveal what she had to offer, the skirt flowy, but slit high up one side so that a long, slender leg would show. She was going in without weapons, she hated missions like this, months away from the House in some smelly port town on some remote island she'd never even heard of. Could it get any worse? Or right, her client was shite in the sack, and she'd have to be there every night the entire time, and multiple times during the day if he was free, he just loved to give his women pleasure, too bad he didn't know what that was.
------
Two months had gone by. One of them was spent traveling just to reach this hell hold. She'd been to half the places on the bloody island already, there was nothing to learn here. She sat and stared out the window of her room, His room really. His negotiations were going well, she'd made sure of that, that why she'd been hired after all. She had the information she needed to take Home. Just one more month to go and she'd start the long journey back with Mister Can't-Please-a-Woman-if-He-Tried, which he did, frequently.
The moon shone overhead, the city held an eery glow from the light. Loud snoring from the bed told her all she needed to know, he was asleep still, she was free for a few hours, sometimes, being an elf was nice with human clients, you had a few hours to yourself while they still slept. Screams rose from the city below, drawing her emerald eyes down to the streets. They were horrific screams, pain, confusion, sorrow. The door burst open behind her, within seconds she was on her feet, spinning around, ready to fight, but it was the Guardians.
"Silk, time to go. Shit's hit the fan, there's fighting in the streets."
"There's still a month to go"
"You don't get it, something's gone wrong here. There's a plague, we have a boat booked, move it."
She didn't argue, it was their job to keep her safe. She grabbed her hat and the emergency bag she always kept packed and ran for the door. The men fell in, one before one behind, ahead of her a hand came back, offering a single dagger, she took it gratefully. She stopped only long enough to pull a pair of boots on under her nightgown, they allowed her this much time, it wouldn't do for her to hobble herself on the stones. That done the three were off, sticking to the shadows of the street and moving fast to the docks district, only to find it in panic. There was open fighting in the streets, the closer to the docks they got, the more agitated the people seemed. Finally they made their way to the water's edge and stopped.
"What the bloody hell is going on here, man?"
"The boats, they can't leave. Thars some kinda black fog out thar and it stops 'em. We're stuck in Kalaram."
Elven cursing followed this and Silk felt her arm grabbed, being dragged back into the city proper. Back to his house. She was taken up to the room, He was gone though. Why would he be gone? He hadn't taken any of his things with him, his boots, nothing. The Guards looked at each other and firmly latched her window, then the door. They would wait out that first night together.
-----
The sun rose, or it should have risen, it never rose over Kalaram now. For a month it had been raining, or had it been longer. The cruel fog still surrounded the island. Still blocked their escape, and their communication. Mages had tried to contact the outside world, but they couldn't, they had tried teleportation, it didn't work. The druids had tried their magics, no wind could stir that fog away. Silk sat in the room they had boarded up, listening to the sounds of the dead outside. They would be home soon. Iron and Wolf. Her Guards, her companions, her only touch of Home, her only friends in this harsh, cruel world. They had gone out to find supplies. They spoke of survivors, but they didn't trust them. They told her to stay in the house, so she did. It was their right to do so, this was a situation where they took control, not the Courtesan, not the Spy, not the Bard, the Guardians. It was a military matter.
She hummed softly, letting the music wrap around her body, infuse her spirit with courage to withstand the horrors. The dead got up again. That first night, one out of five people dropped dead, and then got up again attacking the rest. Where people were bitten or scratched, the wounds festered. If untreated, the person died, and got back up. The dead came for the living, to feed. The next few days had been surreal. They'd tried to go to the castle, but it was locked off, the sounds of fighting and death sounding within. The forest was deadly, dangerous. Strange undead were springing up, not humanoid, but twisted versions of them, massive creatures of pain and destruction. The boys said people were calling them Behemoths, and with good cause. She could feel the ground shake when they moved by, tell if one was in the streets near they're hidey hole. The handle turned and she sunk low, drawing her dagger, ready to fight to death, but the face of Wolf poked into view, then the rest of him, but Iron was not there.
"He fell miss Silk. There was nothing I could do. A behemoth got him, smushed him into nothing but a paste and them deaders started licking it up. I only barely got away with my own life to get back to you."
"Of course, you did your job. Food?"
"Iron had it."
"Naturally. Nevermind, we can go without tonight, and we'll go out again tomorrow."
------
How long now? How long had she been moving with Wolf, scavenging everything they could find to make their shit hole of a home safe, comfortable? She didn't know, he didn't know. They were just surviving now. They ran through the streets, her heeled boots barely made a sound. The long skirts of court had been forgotten some time ago, torn up for bandages, made into what she wore now, a short teal dress with a black corset, boots, gloves and her hat. it was all she needed. She had to be able to move fast, the deaders couldn't keep up with you if you moved fast, so that's what they did, travel light, grab only what you could easily carry, then run home again. She still didn't go to see other survivors, Wolf said it was too dangerous, there were bad rumours about some of the people there.
"GAH!"
The scream stopped her in her tracks and she spun to find Wolf locked in combat, she ran back, dagger flashing, distracting while the Guardian took care of it.
-------
Silk stared at the body at her feet, the thing that had once been Wolf. Twice dead. He had been bitten but didn't tell her, then he'd turned, nearly killed her, but she had won. Now she was alone. She pushed the corpse out the door and barricaded herself in again. She sat on the bed and just stared at the boarded windows. What did she do now? Survive, adapt to the situation, the things she did best. Find a way to make the training work for her.
She grabbed up her bag, threw what food and water she had into it, a few of the makeshift bandages, and a journal. She grabbed the longbow Wolf had used before and slipped it over her shoulder, then the quiver half full of arrows. With a sigh she left the home, she had a few hours before the Dark Time. She knew roughly where the other survivors were.
No sound on the cobbles as she ran, ducking the zombies with some practiced ease. There, the door, the boarded windows. This had to be the place. She set a hand onto the door handle and twisted, a gentle push and she stepped into the well lit room and out of the dark.
Age: appears perhaps in her mid to late 20's, but then, she's an elf, it's hard to tell these things sometimes.
Weight: do you really want to ask her this question? She doesn't look like she'll appreciate it.
Defining Marks: None that you can 'see'
Hair: Long and raven black
Eyes: Emerald green, vibrant
Skin: Creamy
Build: Slenderly built.
Appearance: She always seems to be neat and tidy, unless she's just stepped out of a fight, then she might be a bit ruffled up. There's tiny creases at the corners of her eyes these days, she's tired, very tired. If you happen to notice her hands, the fingers are calloused, tough from years of playing instruments.
Family :
Husband-Terrance "Ghost" Shadowfist
Children-Ariana Shadowfist, Anaira Shadowfist, Robinson Shadowfist
Nephew-Cassius Shadowfist
----
How she came to be in Siranda
Silk sat in the House. Her long black hair was being brushed for the seventh time that day, it had been washed five, perfumed three. She wasn't to move as she was pampered and primped. It was her time to go out. A deep red stain was applied to her lips, black khol to her eyes. She winced a little as the brush was set aside and the twisting began. She had to be perfect in every possible way. There couldn't be any suspicion as to her real reason for being there.
"Maitria, pay attention."
The voice cut through her thoughts and emerald green eyes flicked up to the elder woman standing to her left.
"Two other agents are going in with you. They're Guardians though, not an Extractor. You'll be on your own most of the time. You have got to make sure these negotiations don't fail, at whatever cost."
Silk lifted her hands and flicked her fingers to the Matriarch, acknowledging silently her understanding of the situation. She had been briefed already, had read the reports on the scenario she would be entering. She'd worked for this client before for other negotiations. She knew it wouldn't be easy, or really that pleasurable, but that was life. You didn't get to pick and choose your missions. You just accepted them.
"You're going by sea to a port city called Kalaram on the island nation of Siranda. It's ruled by a royal family. You may meet them during your stay, you may not, be ready in case though. Your client will be staying as guest to Lord Withermont. He's a minor noble on the island, but he's not the real objective. Your client will be trading you out if it's needed. You'll have to be smart and pick up on the extended client's desires, but they'll only see you as a Courtesan, do not drop that appearance for anything. Make sure his negotiations happen. Meet up with OUR informant in the city and get the information we need. You'll be there for two months before he's scheduled to return. "
Unable to stay silent any longer the elf parted her ruby lips.
"Really Mother, I know how to do my job, I've been doing it for sixty years already and training since I was five. I don't need all these reminders."
"SILK! You will show more restraint and control of yourself then that. Remember who you are, what you are."
"I know what I am, and what I'm supposed to be. I'm a glorified whore who is good at getting men and women to talk between the sheets."
"You can't be reasoned with when you're in one of these moods. Why do we even keep you?"
"Because I'm the best you have and everyone here knows it."
"This is true. There, you look finished."
Silk looked at herself finally in the mirror. Her hair was braided and twisted up on her head, falling over one shoulder. She wore a gown of soft teal satin, the bodice tight and cut low to reveal what she had to offer, the skirt flowy, but slit high up one side so that a long, slender leg would show. She was going in without weapons, she hated missions like this, months away from the House in some smelly port town on some remote island she'd never even heard of. Could it get any worse? Or right, her client was shite in the sack, and she'd have to be there every night the entire time, and multiple times during the day if he was free, he just loved to give his women pleasure, too bad he didn't know what that was.
------
Two months had gone by. One of them was spent traveling just to reach this hell hold. She'd been to half the places on the bloody island already, there was nothing to learn here. She sat and stared out the window of her room, His room really. His negotiations were going well, she'd made sure of that, that why she'd been hired after all. She had the information she needed to take Home. Just one more month to go and she'd start the long journey back with Mister Can't-Please-a-Woman-if-He-Tried, which he did, frequently.
The moon shone overhead, the city held an eery glow from the light. Loud snoring from the bed told her all she needed to know, he was asleep still, she was free for a few hours, sometimes, being an elf was nice with human clients, you had a few hours to yourself while they still slept. Screams rose from the city below, drawing her emerald eyes down to the streets. They were horrific screams, pain, confusion, sorrow. The door burst open behind her, within seconds she was on her feet, spinning around, ready to fight, but it was the Guardians.
"Silk, time to go. Shit's hit the fan, there's fighting in the streets."
"There's still a month to go"
"You don't get it, something's gone wrong here. There's a plague, we have a boat booked, move it."
She didn't argue, it was their job to keep her safe. She grabbed her hat and the emergency bag she always kept packed and ran for the door. The men fell in, one before one behind, ahead of her a hand came back, offering a single dagger, she took it gratefully. She stopped only long enough to pull a pair of boots on under her nightgown, they allowed her this much time, it wouldn't do for her to hobble herself on the stones. That done the three were off, sticking to the shadows of the street and moving fast to the docks district, only to find it in panic. There was open fighting in the streets, the closer to the docks they got, the more agitated the people seemed. Finally they made their way to the water's edge and stopped.
"What the bloody hell is going on here, man?"
"The boats, they can't leave. Thars some kinda black fog out thar and it stops 'em. We're stuck in Kalaram."
Elven cursing followed this and Silk felt her arm grabbed, being dragged back into the city proper. Back to his house. She was taken up to the room, He was gone though. Why would he be gone? He hadn't taken any of his things with him, his boots, nothing. The Guards looked at each other and firmly latched her window, then the door. They would wait out that first night together.
-----
The sun rose, or it should have risen, it never rose over Kalaram now. For a month it had been raining, or had it been longer. The cruel fog still surrounded the island. Still blocked their escape, and their communication. Mages had tried to contact the outside world, but they couldn't, they had tried teleportation, it didn't work. The druids had tried their magics, no wind could stir that fog away. Silk sat in the room they had boarded up, listening to the sounds of the dead outside. They would be home soon. Iron and Wolf. Her Guards, her companions, her only touch of Home, her only friends in this harsh, cruel world. They had gone out to find supplies. They spoke of survivors, but they didn't trust them. They told her to stay in the house, so she did. It was their right to do so, this was a situation where they took control, not the Courtesan, not the Spy, not the Bard, the Guardians. It was a military matter.
She hummed softly, letting the music wrap around her body, infuse her spirit with courage to withstand the horrors. The dead got up again. That first night, one out of five people dropped dead, and then got up again attacking the rest. Where people were bitten or scratched, the wounds festered. If untreated, the person died, and got back up. The dead came for the living, to feed. The next few days had been surreal. They'd tried to go to the castle, but it was locked off, the sounds of fighting and death sounding within. The forest was deadly, dangerous. Strange undead were springing up, not humanoid, but twisted versions of them, massive creatures of pain and destruction. The boys said people were calling them Behemoths, and with good cause. She could feel the ground shake when they moved by, tell if one was in the streets near they're hidey hole. The handle turned and she sunk low, drawing her dagger, ready to fight to death, but the face of Wolf poked into view, then the rest of him, but Iron was not there.
"He fell miss Silk. There was nothing I could do. A behemoth got him, smushed him into nothing but a paste and them deaders started licking it up. I only barely got away with my own life to get back to you."
"Of course, you did your job. Food?"
"Iron had it."
"Naturally. Nevermind, we can go without tonight, and we'll go out again tomorrow."
------
How long now? How long had she been moving with Wolf, scavenging everything they could find to make their shit hole of a home safe, comfortable? She didn't know, he didn't know. They were just surviving now. They ran through the streets, her heeled boots barely made a sound. The long skirts of court had been forgotten some time ago, torn up for bandages, made into what she wore now, a short teal dress with a black corset, boots, gloves and her hat. it was all she needed. She had to be able to move fast, the deaders couldn't keep up with you if you moved fast, so that's what they did, travel light, grab only what you could easily carry, then run home again. She still didn't go to see other survivors, Wolf said it was too dangerous, there were bad rumours about some of the people there.
"GAH!"
The scream stopped her in her tracks and she spun to find Wolf locked in combat, she ran back, dagger flashing, distracting while the Guardian took care of it.
-------
Silk stared at the body at her feet, the thing that had once been Wolf. Twice dead. He had been bitten but didn't tell her, then he'd turned, nearly killed her, but she had won. Now she was alone. She pushed the corpse out the door and barricaded herself in again. She sat on the bed and just stared at the boarded windows. What did she do now? Survive, adapt to the situation, the things she did best. Find a way to make the training work for her.
She grabbed up her bag, threw what food and water she had into it, a few of the makeshift bandages, and a journal. She grabbed the longbow Wolf had used before and slipped it over her shoulder, then the quiver half full of arrows. With a sigh she left the home, she had a few hours before the Dark Time. She knew roughly where the other survivors were.
No sound on the cobbles as she ran, ducking the zombies with some practiced ease. There, the door, the boarded windows. This had to be the place. She set a hand onto the door handle and twisted, a gentle push and she stepped into the well lit room and out of the dark.