Spare A Couple Kina? [Brandon]

[Shamus]

Winter 68th, 514 AV Shamus glared down at the petite woman, who was slowly going over the list he had offered and picking out bushels of greens and other assorted plant parts bit by bit. It was too slowly, Tian would be getting anxious. His body told him to simply insist that she must hurry though his not-so-subtle method of forcing a thought. His common sense told him to be patient. Resisting the urge to prod with hypnotism was difficult, even causing a bead of sweat to form on his forehead with concentration. It would be so easy, but so wrong. The darker side of him continued to urge him on, while the rest of his being resisted. It resulted in a mental battle, solved only when the woman pushed her spectacles back up her nose with a gentle shove and croaked out "everything is here. That will be ten kina." Shamus reached into his pocket, heart already sinking below sea level. Pulling out the shining kina confirmed his suspicions. Tian had supplied him with four less kina than he needed. His face grew red with embarrassment and anger, he needed the money to buy every single herb on the list for the philter he and Tian were working on only a few chimes ago. With each passing moment the same philter would lose potency, and eventually render it dull and useless. It didn't help that the herbal shop was on the other side of the whole petching city, across almost every bridge. It was infuriating, he had hit a stone wall with no pickaxe to mine his way out. Or maybe not. He did, afterall, have a few different tools that may allow him to simply climb over the wall. The streets were slightly crowded outside, the residing chill had dampened today and many were going about their business while they could. "Save those for me, be back momentarily." Shamus walked outside, having a brief shiver that chattered his teeth but quickly securing his cloak on tighter. His eyes were cold and calculating, no smile accommodating his face as he searched for someone he might be able to squeeze a few kina out of. The golden color in his iris looked sharp, no longer soft and welcoming. Now all he needed was someone that looked like an outcast, someone nobody would watch closely.

[Brandon Blackwing]

OOCSo I kind of assumed it was night, but since this is Lhavit, it's not a problem for Shamus' job, right? If it is, well, then it's day

Spying was a somewhat good way to pass time, that is to say, if you had a reason to spy on people. The people in this case were called ‘Shinya’ and stationed all around a particular residence Brandon hoped to infiltrate sometime soon. Ever since the first time he had broken into Elysium Hall, the amount of Shinya guarding the place had grown exponentially, and due to a second time he’d managed to get inside, even more had been stationed. Not that many more, but still, greater numbers made for more pairs of eyes, and in turn that meant more chances of discovery.

It hadn’t been hard to figure out that the Shinya had stationed people a couple meters away from the wall and the domain itself, keeping an eye out. Behind a window they scanned the surroundings for any sign of some criminal wanting to get over the wall. Three groups of guards patrolled around the premises at all times, making sure that anyone who wished to trespass had to time their entrance, and thus it was logical the other guards would be more alert during those moments. It mattered not, Brandon had no plans that consisted of staying out of sight; instead he’d hide in plain sight, for all to see. And yet, he wouldn’t be seen.

To succeed however, he might need a little bit of help from a conveniently planned entrance. While Kriegsfelt was taking care of his disguise, Brandon himself needed to time his arrival so that the guards would be less awake and less aware. Those by the gate would probably want to check the cargo of those wanting to pass, and while that was fine when he entered, the problem was if they would too if he left. For that sole reason –Brandon did not want to take any risk with this plan- the thief figured he’d have to find out when the changing of the guard happened. It was common knowledge that one’s attention was greatly reduced when the promise of a soft bed, a hot meal and a relaxing environment, which was exactly what should be the case when the end of the Shinya’s shift was near. A simple plan, but effective nonetheless. Well, that was what he hoped it was anyway.

But that was what he’d been doing all night; observing the Shinya. Was it easy? Well, it depended on how you looked at things. It was hard to stay out of the guards’ gaze, someone standing around for bells and bells would be pretty suspicious, so that was a no-go. Watching from the rooftops? Not a great idea either, because it was possible to see him from the gates. It wasn’t the Azure, with its small streets, where the rooftops were hidden from sight due to the lack of space. And because of that, Brandon had taken a seat quite a bit away from the mansion, so the Shinya guarding the gate were only as tall as his little finger, his back against the wall, legs crossed. He had been wearing the outfit he’d first bought in Lhavit, one of the few he possessed; the one suited for summer and spring, but not for winter. The terrible state the clothes were in had made them perfect for this task; they were patched up in many places, his cape was torn at the bottom and had –just like his shirt- some small holes in it, here and there. To complement this look, Brandon was the person wearing them, adding to the scruffiness and making him look absolutely miserable. A beggar. A homeless hobo.

The perfect disguise. The only problem was the cold, and even with his cape wrapped tightly around his body, he still couldn’t help trembling and cursing Kriegsfelts name. Without that obnoxious merchant, there wouldn’t be a reason to do this! Well, it wasn’t like people cared or anything, most of them just ignored the ‘beggar’. Others found it necessary to let their faces twist in disgust or sneer something that could be translated as “Go look for work”, or just simply laugh. Little did they know that underneath the hood, Brandon was laughing just as hard back, his grin wide as he thought of all those people fooled by his ‘disguise’. Though he could not deny that he actually wasn’t disguised. He had just dressed in Spring clothes, and picked a place to sit on the street. That simple fact did not bother him though, as long as his clothes were wearable, regardless of how tattered they were –well, not too tattered, he wouldn’t walk around in rags- he would wear them. The only thing that really differed from a spring day –except that it was winter- was that Brandon was keeping his head down, instead of proudly raised with his chin lifted in a display of confidence, or arrogance, depending on the observer.

credit goes to Estrellir Konrath

[Shamus]

His target was quickly spotted, standing out from the others. A lone beggar with tattered clothes. While he didn't look like the richest of Lhavit's residents, he was a sore sight for all that passed. Meaning nobody would wonder why Shamus insisted upon approaching him. Each step was harder than the last, planting himself down as he crossed directly across the road, bumping shoulders with those that did not dodge him. He stood strong with each ram against his body, glaring a path through the street before finally reaching the other side. Shamus drew closer to the man, wondering why he wouldn't beg in the market but thankful that he wasn't. He liked to think his goal was not unjust, even though some may consider it stealing. But really, the people he asked for money felt they wanted to give it to him, so was it really him taking it or them giving it? Either way, it had to happen. The problem was the noise level in the street, which was close to none. Speaking here would draw attention, the last thing Shamus wanted. He offered a warm smile to the beggar, staring into him with a djed fueled glance, his essence reaching out to the man to create a feeling of calm. It was a small move, nothing forceful, simply trying to keep the man from thinking over things too much. The golden eyed man whispered quietly, the words carried in the small breeze, "follow me." His voice offered no djed, it was a simple whisper as anyone else could do, the only difference was he spoke with purposeful confidence. Shamus did not trust the man to do so on his own will, and knew he would need some 'persuasion' to put the simple command into action. He found the beggars eyes and gazed into them, another small burst of his djed flowing into the man, creating a single sudden thought, "follow him." If his target ignored this Shamus would be forced to move on to another target, or try to persuade the owner of the shop to give him the herbs for a discount. Both would be time consuming, and time was something he had little of. He gave the man in tattered clothes another assuring soft smile while he moved his arm toward him in a pulling motion, hoping that the beggar's mind would pick it up. Subliminal messaging was not Shamus' strong suit, but overpowering the beggar's will was not something to do with a possible auristic user about. Shamus began to walk into the small back alley, back turned to the man as he made another forward pulling motion to beckon him forward. He hoped that the man felt he wanted to follow, for after someone thought they wanted to do something, even if Shamus had helped make them feel that they wanted it, they would be easily manipulated. Afterall, people hate to go against their own will.

[Brandon Blackwing]

Intent on observing the Shinya and comparing his analysis of their patterns to those of previous days, Brandon only noticed the man standing in front of him, well, when he stood right in front of him. Suddenly a silhouette had blocked his line of sight and the tiny figures of the watchful guardsmen, a shadow falling over the bat’s person. Looking up was the instinctual thing to do, and Brandon found himself staring into a wide smile. A smile, so the thief noticed, that was limited to the man’s mouth only. The man’s golden eyes were untouched by this, telling Brandon more than enough; he was faking it.

The purpose it was supposed to serve, Brandon could not really figure out, though if he had to guess he’d say it was one of those ‘friendly citizens’ who was ‘concerned’ about his wellbeing and suggested he’d try to see if there weren’t any open job offers that required little to no skill, the cosmos center the place to be. Well, he was wrong, but very much so. The man did not speak for a while, just standing there, smiling and seemingly not wanting anything at all. Any tension built up by the stranger’s sudden appearance ebbed away, and Brandon relaxed.

And then the words came. “Follow me.” Two words. Two simple words with a meaning that could not be misunderstood. The only thing Brandon was wondering about was if he had actually heard that right. Why would anyone want him to follow them? What reason did he actually have to follow this guy? There was some strange confidence in the man’s voice, something that Brandon found rather strange. Questions bubbled up, lots of them. Who was he? Why did he sound so confident, arrogant even? Was there a reason why he should be followed? Why Brandon? Why here? Why now? A lot of “why’s ” and no answers whatsoever.

This time the man’s eyes found the Kelvic’s burning their golden gaze into his onyx one for just a tick before breaking the contact. Curious; both the behavior and the man himself. He actually wanted to find out more about this guy, answers to his questions. For that reason, he’d have to follow him. Curiosity had always been a driving factor in regards to interacting with strangers; Brandon often found that once one had managed to light the flame of his interest, he would take risks and go to great lengths to satisfy the thirst for answers. That is, if said person was able to maintain the status of “interesting figure”.

Another smile, this one as fake as the last, but Brandon did not care, he slowly rose to his feet, encouraged by the gestures the man was making, though an eyebrow raised itself. Were this gestures meant for humans or for cats or dogs? Pets? If there was one thing Brandon knew for sure, it was that he was not one of those pets humans kept. He was free, and he’d keep it that way. Irritation started gnawing at the edges of his mind, but still, the Kelvic did not stop his movement, determined to find out all about this person, willing to follow him. To where exactly? To a place where we can talk, no doubt, his mind suggested, something that made perfect sense to the bat. The streets were too public, and this man clearly had something he wanted to talk about, something meant only for the thief’s ears.

And thus Brandon followed the man into a dark alley, deeper and deeper in while the man beckoned him with that motion that annoyed the bat so much. After a while, the bat just stopped, feeling this was far enough. There were no people around here, which was the reason they’d chosen this spot. Going further would not only be a waste of time, but it would defeat the purpose too, since they’d find themselves back on a street –a different one of course- where people walked by. “So,” the bat commenced, “What is it you want to talk about?” More than one glance was shot in every direction; both left and right, up, behind and in front of him, for the bat suspected they were about to discuss a topic he did not want any listener to overhear.

“Do you need something?”

OOCThis is actually the first time I had to deal with hypnotism, so I hope I did it ... um... right? And I also hope that it's a good post, of course

credit goes to Estrellir Konrath

[Shamus]

OOC :

You played out the hypnotism fantastically. Just so you don't have to research this, Brandon would definitely start noticing somethings up. Did I ever tell you I always wanted Shamus to have an enemy?

His muscles were clenched in anticipation, hoping to find a sign that the target had followed. Only when Shamus heard the rhythm of a new set of feet slapping against the ground behind him did he relax. Before he had been out of his element, like a fish hunting in a dessert, but now he had the man hooked. At least he thought so.

The mumbles from the street were now silent, a hint that they had gone far enough into the sparsely used alley, now he had the beggar where he wante d him. As he thought this he heard the steps behind him stop suddenly, almost commandingly. Shamus followed in a similar manner, trying to get his face into a neutral state as he turned, attempting to reveal nothing. Yet.

Surprisingly his target asked the first question, showing Shamus he was not as complacent as he had hoped. The cloaked man offered a reasonable question, why had Shamus brought him here? The answer did not seem as clear as it had moments ago, when Shamus had viewed the beggar as no more than an asset, a resource to be harvested, and less as a living and thinking person it had been crystal clear. Now it was like the muddy puddles that followed rainstorm. A frown fell upon his face, the corners of his mouth turning slightly down in a barely noticeable look, one of deep thought.

Should I really do this? he wondered to himself, answered by calls to manipulate the man in front of him into complacency, even until he was begging Shamus to take his money. He brought a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, that is not me. Four kina. That is it.

Shamus caught the dark eyes of the man under his hood, djed dripping off his words as he spoke, "I need something from you," he said, trying to use his essence to dull the man's nerves once more. As he continued to speak he could almost feel the man trying to reject the foreign djed, but would not allow it, "some money, to be precise". He drew out his last word, the hiss of the s pulled on as he forced a thought like a nail into the beggars head. A simple command put into his mind, commanding him to do just what Shamus hoped he would not have to force the man to do so any more than he had to, "give it".

With one final burst of djed Shamus attempted to overpower the man in a battle of mind, something that would only work on a much weaker minded person or creature, but never on a sophisticated thief like Brandon, "give me ten Kina. Now." The last word was spoken forcefully, with confidence as he pulled on the man's mind in a final thought to deliver, "do it". Sure, he had just done what he said he would refuse to do. But at the moment he didn't really care. His face was cold, eyes stone, mouth a straight line.

To anybody with even a drop of common sense they would realize that something was pushing them to do what the golden eyed man wanted. Shamus hoped that, considering the man didn't exactly seem sharp and looked to have been begging on the streets, not even in the market, he wouldn't notice the not-so-subtle manipulation.

[Brandon Blackwing]

OOCHm.... I hope this post actually makes sense. It does to me, but... I feel like something is wrong, or missing, but I don't know what exactly.

When the man stated his objective, Brandon could only frown. Money? Whose? His? To this guy? The frown deepened, and the thief wondered if he was actually hearing what he thought he was hearing. Was this man commanding him to give him his money? Yes, yes he was. The many times the command was repeated made Brandon sure of this; he wasn’t hallucinating, nor was he somehow misunderstanding the words coming from the man’s mouth. Ten Kina..; he did have that sum with him, it could be easily delivered to this guy… But Brandon was no man to do charity.

It was rather strange however, that his mind was undecided on what to do. Part of him was trying to coax him into giving the fellow what he wanted, but the other part –by large the majority of Brandon’s mind- refused. Two reasons: first, he did not give away his money if he did not get anything in return, and second, he would not be ordered to do something by anyone. Solomon Kriegsfelt might think he could command the bat, but he was sorely mistaken. Brandon would get his revenge and he would be free once more. Other people could not bind the bat with anything, since Kriegsfelt had already captured that one thing, that one person.

Anger started bubbling up, frustration and irritation both adding more fuel and allowing the emotion to grow, to build. What did this guy think he was anyway? A dog? Some sort of slave he could just order around and toy with? Who did this golden-eyed bastard think he was? Give him money? Do as he said? Ha! A fist clenched itself, and Brandon sent a glare full of daggers to the man, a warning for what was to come. The man’s words echoed in his mind, a strange cacophony of his own and the stranger’s voices, repeating the same lines over and over. Some money. Give it. Do it. Ten Kina. It grew louder and louder, clouding all other thoughts until one word broke through and obliterated the suggestions. NO!

Like hell he would obey commands from just about anyone! Like hell he would give away money to some random stranger! Like hell he would listen to strange thoughts that somehow had invaded his consciousness. No matter how tempting those words had sounded, and how much they had pulled at his mind and lulled his senses to sleep, he refused to listen. Commanding Brandon? Ha! Try again you dirty petcher! No one spoke to him like that, no one! And even if they did he wouldn’t listen. Freedom; no rules, no following orders! To think someone would even try, out of the blue…!

Face twisted in some angry, bestial snarl; teeth bared and eyebrows almost touching each other, Bran even growled. And then he exploded into action, a fist aimed for the man’s face as he closed in and intended to grab the stranger’s shoulders, pushing him against a wall. An arm would then be raised and pressed into the man’s throat while the other was on standby, in case he needed to deliver another punch.

“Now listen here, you petching ball of shyke!” Brandon hissed into the man’s face, having to look up but only slightly, “You just crossed a line!” And what a line it was! A line that Brandon usually would not get that upset about, not this upset. Maybe the fact that even his own thoughts had been swayed –even if it had been slightly- was making him furious. This wasn’t a normal situation, nothing was natural about it. So, did this guy somehow made him think those things? How was that even possible? … Ah, but wait. As per usual, when strange things happened that Brandon could not comprehend, his mind came to one conclusion; magic. That only made things worse. For the golden-eyed man that is.

“So, you like messing with my head? Eh?” Each question was emphasized by Brandon applying just a little bit more pressure on the man’s neck. “I want answers. First, you tell me what kind of whacky magic you used! Then, you will tell me why I was targeted. And lastly, I want you to give me one good reason why I should not beat you to a pulp for magic-ing me.” As to be expected, when Brandon felt cornered or threatened, he resorted to violence, and while the taller man did not appear to be all that dangerous, the fact that he’d just managed to make a mess out of his thoughts was more than good enough to be awarded with that label. He was lucky though, this man, for if Brandon hadn’t been curious about him, he would probably be writhing on the cobbled stones by now. That said, Brandon did not really know what exactly it was that made this man either special or fascinating. He’d soon find out though.

credit goes to Estrellir Konrath

[Shamus]

Shyke! The man was not swayed as Shamus had anticipated. Instead, a frown began to brew on his face, and as Shamus considered attempting an escape he plotted for a bit too long. And now it was too late. The cloaked man moved, face contorted in a angry snarl as he came toward Shamus, who happened to have no bloody idea about what to do. In the short time between the contact of fist and face, several ideas ran through Shamus' mind, yet none were helpful.

He could try to stun the attacker, like he did with the glassbeak when he was with the talking clay hedgehog, but there was a ninety five percent chance of failure here. To do it he would need time and focus, something he could not receive with flesh and bone ramming his face. His other option would be to fight back, which honestly would result in Shamus being decimate into a bruised and bloodied mess. His third immediate option was to try to break free from the fight until he could get to the road and call for help. None of the thoughts resulted in him not being punched in the face.

So, he took it. It hit him in the cheek, jolting his body back as pain ran through his face. That would definitely leave one hell of a mark. Then, as he was trying to remember what had happened, he was being shoved against a very uncomfortable wall that had rudely and obviously, due to the loud ripping sound, torn his cloak. That was unfortunate.

As he came to his senses an arm rammed itself into his neck, pressing down, leaving Shamus to wonder if the man knew he couldn't breathe with an arm jammed into his windpipe. If Shamus could have moved easier while the man asked him if he liked messing with his head, he would have shrugged. Shamus did not find it enjoyable. That would be like saying he enjoyed using doorknobs, hypnotism was just a utility like every other tool. As the man screamed questions towards him, Shamus met him with a blank stare, directly into his dark eyes.

Shamus now realized that earth riemancy would be very helpful, seeing as nothing would make him more pleased than to impale the man holding him with a spear of earth. He would have to look into that. As for now he was stuck being interrogated, throat pressed against so hard he could barely croak out some answers, "that whacky magic is called persuasion. You were targeted because you look like a weak willed beggar, and ain't to sharp to be followin' people into back alleys. And you should not beat me to a pulp because of what I have to offer. You honestly think I would not bring something to give you in exchange for the kina?" The lie continued to formulate in Shamus' head, starting as a creek and then turning to a flowing river. He now had a plan.

It revolved around something he had never even attempted before. A trance.

[Brandon Blackwing]

The man’s answers were not satisfying, not satisfying at all. Brandon suspected he was lying, and it was not just because the man had called his magic “persuasion”, but also because the man’s face was more than willing to tell him what was a lie, and what was the truth. Upon speaking the supposed name of the magic, the man’s eyeballs drifted to a side, something Brandon considered to be tied together with telling lies. In truth though, the bat couldn’t actually remember what direction was remembering something and what was making something up, but he couldn’t care less. Besides, persuasion did not sound like a name for magic at all. Magics had weird names such as Auristics or reimancy, not persuasion.

Further responses told Brandon that his disguise had been a great success, though he did not quite know if he was actually happy with that. If it meant that mages would want to bend his will to their whim, he’d rather not disguise himself as a beggar again. Golden Eyes was rewarded with a blow to the stomach for his next answer; this guy clearly had no idea just what he had gotten himself into, now had he? Calling Brandon stupid for following him into the alley? Ha! It was the other way around really, Golden Eyes was the fool for luring the bat into the alley. Or to just let Brandon follow him into the alley. It was night even! Lhavitian fools really felt that safe with their Shinya guards patrolling about eh? The dark alleys were not feared? Oh, but that would soon change; this man’s opinion of them would at least.

“And what makes you think that I would be interested in what you have to offer?” Brandon questioned with an eyebrow raised, allowing the man to gasp of air by lessening the pressure on his throat. The bat’s query was rhetorical however, and if the man had started formulating an answer, it would be cut off by his breath once more being cut off. “Let me make one thing clear,” Brandon spoke with a threatening whisper, “You have nothing on you that I want.” If he had to attempt robbing beggars, than this man truly had no money worth taking, nor did the bat like the man’s clothes. Besides, they would not fit, Golden Eyes was too tall. “I’d also advise you to stop using that tongue of yours to weave a web of lies.” He paused for a tick, reaching under his cloak before continuing: “Surprised? Ah yes, you of course could not possibly know I could tell…”

Smugness frosted the words that were sweeter than honey, but Brandon’s expression did not leave any room for doubt as he unsheathed a dagger and held the blade near the man’s cheek. It was time to counter with some lies of his own- well, more like bluff really. Or was that the same? “You see, I am so much more than I seem to be. For one, I can see more than you might think… take a guess!” Brandon paused again, as if to inspire his victim to speak what they no doubt were suspecting by now. However, the Kelvic had no intention to let the mage speak again, not yet. An arm once more interrupted any words that might have flown from the man’s lips, and Bran’s voice cut off what might have been the start of a sentence.

“Auristics, indeed. You are a clever one, are you not?” The statement was accompanied by the index finger of the hand that held the dagger pointing upwards, as if he was scolding him. “Now, let me tell you something about this blade.” To emphasize his words, the thief wriggled the weapon a bit, then started his monologue. “This blade is called ‘Snake Tongue’,” he lied, pausing for dramatic effect and to appear as if he was observing the blade that curved up and down much like a snake slithering by, the hilt sporting two snakes with bared fangs ready to strike. “You know why it’s named that? It’s because its blade has cut off many lying snake tongues, tongues like yours actually.” A lie that any aurist would be able to notice, if only because the blade hadn’t really seen a lot of combat, or blood.

Bran then placed the blade near the man’s lips and beamed him the most radiant smile he could muster, one that did not reach his eyes. “Now then, I ask you again: what is that magic called?”

credit goes to Estrellir Konrath

[Shamus]

The severity of the situation was clear, more so than Shamus would have liked to think. It would take a web of lies greater than he could spin to carry out his previous plot. The effects of overgiving would be more severe then getting reduced to a sore mess. Pain was only temporary, afterall.

While the man continued to apply pressure to his throat, Shamus stopped had stopped trying to breathe. His head was light, mind fuzzy, cheat burning. Only when there were breaks in the grip did Shamus' body force him to take a breath. Even then they were short and soft, he refused to give the man the pleasure of hearing him gasp for air. Dignity was something long gone, but he would rather not give off signs of weakness at this point.

As a hand reached under the cloak the man spoke of how he had known about it the whole time. That lie was as see through as the beakers he worked with. An Aurist would know what sort of magic he had used. An Aurist would have known the influence of magic when he first felt it. Shamus knew an Aurist when he manipulated one. The only worrying factor was the dagger than under clothed man pulled out.

Currently the best course of action was not clear, for he could either tell the truth, or hold his lie. The only thing that was clear was that struggling in the man's grip was not a good idea when a blade was so close to his body. Blades inflicted permanent damage, unlike fists. He could heal a few cuts, maybe even a deep laceration, but to recreate his entire tongue was not a viable option. The truth seemed like the most appealing course of action.

"Hypnotism," he said flatly, offering no emotion into the word. Shamus knew that now the man was paying close attention to which thoughts were his and which were foreign, and his magic would be useless. But did he need to know that? No, that he would keep to himself.

Now Shamus simply stared back into the man's dark eyes. Dark like his heart, Shamus assumed. Eyes were a glimpse of someones soul, or so he had heard. It was a blank stare, and Shamus slowly began to go limp, starting with his feet and moving up. His mind was not fully there anymore, this was simply a moment in the fluid stream of time. Isolated. And it would never happen again. He would make sure of that.

Maybe he should learn to use that blade he had bought in the Fall. Maybe he should stop manipulating people. Maybe the second option was what was right. Maybe Shamus no longer cared.

There was nothing this man could gain from him, at least nothing here, nothing now. And Shamus had no intention of giving him anything either. Would he be killed over this mistake? He did not know. But Shamus did know that at this exact moment in time, he could do nothing but sit back and take what was coming. But he would take it without being fully here.

[Brandon Blackwing]

Ah, so much better! Now that was an answer Brandon wanted to hear, while the name wasn’t as fancy as those of other magics the bat knew of, the man seemed to have stopped lying. Intimidation did the trick, so it appeared, and the fact that there was the subtle threat hanging in the air that Brandon would cut off Golden Eyes’ tongue if he dared to lie again had helped quite a lot, it seemed. The prospect of serious harm or injury worked a lot of times, and why wouldn’t it? Even if someone did not fear death, even if they couldn’t care less if they would be killed, being mutilated or suffering severe pain –both in this case- was more than enough to unnerve most. Even Brandon himself would have complied if he had been in the man’s shoes.

Well, it mattered not, he had his answer and that was what was important. Were there any more questions he had he wanted solved by this guy? Hmmm…No, not really. In fact, this man was a disappointment for Brandon, he was not nearly as interesting as he had thought he was a couple chimes ago. Oh well. That however did not mean he couldn’t continue glaring at the man, locking gazes and just appearing to try and … read Golden Eyes, like Brandon had seen those aurists do. What he was supposed to see, he did not know, and he did not see it either, but his victim did not need to know that.

Then, the man seemed to drift off, eyes unfocussed and blank. Brandon frowned; had he broken him? Had he scared this guy so much that he had started retreating in the vast depths of his mind? Was he about to pass out? As a test of sorts, Brandon lightly pressed the tip of his blade in the man’s cheek, though not hard enough to draw blood. No reaction. The tip was placed somewhere else, now poking the man’s Adams apple, just below the arm Brandon used to apply pressure on the Hypnotist’s throat. No reaction. What in the world? Has this guy been struck by apathy or something? What am I supposed to do now?

Not quite knowing what to do, Brandon sheathed his blade and slapped the man a couple times in the face with the back of his hand, all in a fluid motion. However, it did not seem as if the man was actually still present, it was as if the bat was interacting with a hollow shell. Confused, Brandon just released the man, and walked away as he scratched his head. Truly, there were some strange people around. This had to be the first time he’d seen a man just … deactivate and go limp for no reason. He sighed. A total waste of time. For safety reasons he couldn’t go back to the spot he’d been sitting in earlier, and truth to be told, he did not want to be around that weird hypnotist any longer. Who knew he could do with his head! That, and the Kelvic found it creepy how the man had seemed so … soulless and absent. A shiver ran down his spine as he was remembered of the doll of Kaik.

The pace was increased just a little as Brandon headed to the Port, wanting to get himself a drink. Liquor and rowdy company were the best methods to forget about creepy hypnotists and murderous dolls. Perhaps he could play a game of cards too. Hm, yeah, that would be nice. If he was lucky he might even win… if they played a game he knew that is.

credit goes to Estrellir Konrath