Completed [Castle Commons] In the hood

[Fallon]

There was no more need to force her thoughts through, his attitude reduced down to that of thought and logic - something of a greater use than a blinded logic and thoughtlessness. Even her lip could not help but curl slightly in approval to his additional assessment. He was right Hound did not have time to send people to go and play acrobat - he was too busy sending them out to play sniffer for other potentials. Eyes slid up to the roof, narrowing down upon the precarious slope that marked its as a death trap to the majority.

"I think, if they were the sort to waste time with such shenanigans, that we would no doubt have heard about it by now," she scratched at her jaw, "If we were to take presumptions from their other stint, no doubt there would be some flapping flier attached to them." But just as she was to continue, did his words ring within her mind. There was only silence, her eyes looking him once more up and down. It was more careful than before, slow and analysing. So much so that her mind was forced into weighing up words in her head.

"Big words."

She gave a step, then a lean away, a simple nodding in understanding to his frustrations and more importantly his admittance to it. With a gentle step she looked back to the buildings once more.

"Sounds like you want change," she began, her fingers reaching down and massaging against the temple of Orvin, "Like you want to go against what will currently and continue to happen, and..." there was a pause, "Well, I'm sure you've heard how this Hound wants to force change. Sounds pretty ballsy if you ask me." It was testing and teasing, a gentle lure out to see if he would take any of it, "Or stupid. Either way, it's a dangerous game going against one of the big names alone." Fallon's brow lifted, her thoughts lightening as she pretended to return her attention to the scene before them, "Got to wish 'em luck though. You reckon he'll ever have anyone find him?"

And then she stopped, "Who I kidding? Bet it's gonna die a death before they get anywhere. Just like anyone else who goes solo against a biggun." Rambling perhaps, but it was the gentle turnover of thought never the less. Proke a reaction, gauge, then carry on. But before that she needed more.

[Noven]

Noven quirked an eyebrow at the girl. Had his words been so big? He'd been hating the Daggerhands so long he stopped differentiating between what he said and what he felt. They just kind of...melted together, bound by a loathing so potent it could eat him alive inside out. And he would have let it, if he thought it would do him any good.

"Change, maybe," he responded, shrugging as he stared at the scuff marks his boots left on the cold ground. Then he looked up, and his rust colored eyes simmered with a fiery, well nursed hunger.

A hunger for savage, heinous vengeance.

"But what happens after, happens. First, they need to die. And there's a special one mixed in somewhere with their scummy lot, waiting for me to come teach him a merry little tune." Noven imagined, for the hundredth time, what his screams would sound like. Would he weep? Would he beg? Would he try to do something silly like kill himself before the pain became too unbearable? Nov certainly hoped so, especially for the last. Just so he could deny the Boss death's sweet release and watch him writhe.

Nov found himself staring at a heap of rags propped up against a wall. Perhaps a dead beggar, perhaps not. Winter was kind on no one, but she was particularly cruel to those with no hearths, no friends nor families to speak of. Something inside of him continued twisting in its old, familiar way.

"I prefer flapping fliers to hooded goons watching me from rooftops," he suddenly blurted. "And dangerous it may be, but I don't think luck has much to do with it. This Hound has power. I can practically smell it, what with things getting so strange lately. And there are plenty like me in this city, who want change, who want less dead city folk and more dead Daggerhands."

Nov looked around them at the miserable hellhole he had called home for almost twenty years, a forest of slums and poverty and bleakness. "They'll find him, if he wants to be found," he added, then grinned. "And I'll be damned if I don't at least try. Because I'm willing to bet my life that this Hound won't die so easily, big ones or no. In fact, I'm willing to bet he'll win. And all the better if he does it with the help of the likes of me."

The man looked back up at the roofs and said, almost to himself, "After all, we're after the same prey."

[Fallon]

That fire, that lust and hunger - Fallon liked that. That distinct sharp edge in his tone, fuelled by that desire for change in whatever form it came. Her gaze grew sharper still, her lips forming into a definite devilish smirk. She could almost envisage the scenes in his head, the want of power, to force things, to begin again. And whilst she straightened out, her eyes locking down upon him did she finally made up her mind. There was a step, a diversion of her attention from the roofs, and a step around to his side. Careful, tentative and full of focus upon her new found target.

"So, you want to find this Hound too?" she began, a purr hitting the back of her throat, "You want to stand up next to 'em, strike down the rotten world that stands before you?" she gave a sweep of her hand as if to motion the slicing away of something. "And with that ending of one thing to allow change to enter. To rebuild something new and better. Better than the Daggerhands and those that currently stand." She was serious, if it was not her tone then it was her expression. Unflinching, hard and efficient, she needed to be now. Chin lifting she drove her words at him, "The question is, how far are you willing to go?"

It hung there for a moment as she let of the weight of it truly sink in, "How far are you willing to go to get rid of them? How much are you willing to let go of to stand by this new force?" Fallon pressed closer, the gap between them thinning, the brush of Orvin as the wolf circled his way round. There was the low growl escaping, the reverberating sound filling the pause. She stretched out a hand to him in gesture to shake, but her green orbs remained locked upon his. Her head inclined to the side, her lips parting as she exhaled, "How far are you willing?"

Her hand remained where it was, "How far are you willing to reach out to grasp at it?"

[Noven]

Something about Bitzer's demeanor...changed. Noven was reminded eerily of the night the veins of his left hand ran crimson, and a voice, her voice, swirled in his mind, egging him on. Urging him to maim, to torture, to take his new power without question and make the world bleed to his liking. And with each ounce of pain he inflicted, Krysus pushed him harder, farther, her words oozing with rapture.

Alright, maybe not that eery. But it was close enough to stir a strange remembering, and he found himself once again torn between fascination and fear. Who was this strange woman?

Bitzer was staring at him with a deadpan expression, all business and no play. Her chin lifted as she repeated her question, morphing it over and over to drive her point further. She was closing the distance between them now, her lupine companion circling and growling, and Nov couldn't help but feel as though he was trapped in a strange dream he could not wake from. It didn't help that her eyes were burrowing into his with unsettling intensity, her gaze locked even as she extended her hand.

"How far are you willing to reach out to grasp at it?"

He hesitated, just for a tick. Then Noven gripped Bitzer's small hand in his and yanked her forward, close enough that he could see the freckles scattered across her pale skin. Her wolf bared its teeth in warning, but his mistress was not under any pain. "Honestly, I think that's the wrong question to ask," he answered with equal gravity. "Question ought to be, how far won't I go?"

He let go of her and tugged off the glove on his left hand. "But if you absolutely must have an answer, then here it is."

Nov held his hand out, fingers splayed, to show her the webwork of crimson than ran along the back of his hand, over his knuckles and creeping toward his fingers. "A Sunberthian, cursed to dance to the dictations of one goddess of murder and pain. My whole life is just this, and only this, and I will stop at nothing to reap the fruits of my endless sacrifices."

"No children," he muttered, shoving his hand back in his glove, mouth set in a grim line. "That's my one and only line."

Nov flicked his gaze back up at Bitzer and his stoic facade broke into a smirk. "Women as well, maybe, but only if they aren't armed to the teeth and in cahoots with wolves and bears and the like. You know, reasonable stuff."

Now, for the million miza question. The stoniness returned to his dark features and his fists unconsciously curled.

"Why are you asking me this?"

[Fallon]

"That fire, I like that," Her hand firmly grasped his for a moment, her voice dipping into that of a hiss. Firm, direct, he was more than willing to go far. It became questionable on who was more of a Beast then, both her and Orvin had bared fangs; one of threat the other of something much more. There was a wolfish smile, the release of hands as Nov laid down his limits, and then his blessing.

Fallon only stole a quick glance to the interlaced red that wove its way across. There was a moment of understanding, but she did not dwell upon it for too long. There was no immediate need to, even if it was to ask questions. No she needed results, and he was going to bring one to her. Fallon circled him, carefully nodding as this series of questioning reached its peak. Her steps around treaded lightly, the hold of her eyes breaking from his, "Why? There's a reason. Always is, even if it is a simple one."

Silence ruled and lasted. It was time to show her cards. It was her hand that jolted forward, fingers grasping at his collar and pulling him down to her height. her grip turned firm, the knuckles turning solid with her glove. Even if there was resistance she would still set herself for holding on. She leaned up, bringing her lips next to his ear.

"You want to know more? About us. About Scars. About Hound," she dropped into a whisper, the hot breath caressing his skin. There was that sweet sense of adrenal pumping from within, that excitement that this would be the first of many like talks to come; of pain, of sacrifice and of change. "If you want information. If you're brave enough... I dare you to look for the man with the broad rimmed hat."

She gave him a sharp push away, arm withdrawing quickly as she made a retreat. Head down, wolf in quicK persuit, Fallon wasted no time in making distance. There was no look back, the quick determined strides leading her into an alley without a second glance. She had done her bit, it was now time to see if he would take the bait and follow it to the end.

[Noven]

Noven felt not unlike a hare being circled by a wolf as Bitzer walked around him, the comparison made all the more apt by the fact that there was a real wolf glaring up at him, close enough he could smell its earthy, canine scent.

When the girl yanked his collar and pulled him down, his first instinct was to resist. But, instead of the feeling of cold steel pressed against his neck, he felt the warmth of her breath against his ear. Then she whispered words, words that sent his heart racing faster than any of Brega's girls had ever managed.

Us. The Scars. The Hound. She was in league with the very enigma he sought to find. Noven's eyes went wide as Bitzer dared him to seek more information, and to find the man with the broad rimmed hat.

She pushed him away. And then, just like that, she was gone, wolf trailing closely behind her. Nov remained where she had left him, still dazed from this unforeseen, six ton drop of a revelation. By the time he came to, the girl and her wolf had long since disappeared. He stood there for a moment longer, rubbing at his neck where her breath had been only a few ticks ago.

Nov looked around him, took his bearings, and turned to stride back to Sunset. Broad rimmed hat, broad rimmed hat...what kind of bizarre hint was that?

Shaking his head, the cook couldn't help wonder. How many heads was he going to have to knock in to find one, hatted man in the whole of Sunberth?

"As many as I need to," he answered himself with a grin, then headed straight for a certain lean, mean, fighting machine's cottage.

[Orion Michaels]

Fallon +1 Stealth +1 Running +1 Subterfuge +1 Intelligence +2 Socialization +4 Rhetoric lore : Losing Your Target Fake Name: Bitzer Nov: Stupid Local Nov Dislikes the Daggerhand Rhetoric: Directing a Conversation Nov Will do Anything For Change...Almost Nov is Marked by Krysus Nov is a potential member Noven +4 Observation +1 Stealth +1 Interrogation +1 Intelligence +3 Rhetoric lore : When out of Options, Be Direct Bitzer: The Woman with the Wolf Seeking the Hound Bitzer is Confident..Or Crazy Bitzer is tied to the Hound, to the Scars Your Contact with the Scars: Man with the broad rimmed hat Notes Thanks for the thread, you two. Hopefully you got the lore you were searching for out of this. If there's something else you wanted specifically, shoot me a PM. Please edit this request to reflect it's been graded.