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The Courier

[Class A] Where the Law turns a Blind Eye

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Blairville

Class A: The Gypsy Market's Mob boss has become even more ruthless and harsh as time has gone by, and that's making the market a hostile place for everyone. Help his ex-wife, a kindly but equally ruthless old mobster, end his reign of terror.

Gypsy Market, The: The Original Bazar of Blaurg (sic), and a grand location for magical trinkets and bizarre curios. It is here that many a hedgewizard and thief ply their trade.

Madam Rosalia
NPC

It had been five years since their divorce, and not much had happened to make her regret her decision. Well, it wasn't as if they were officially divorced. After all, he hadn't even turned up to sign the papers. Legally, he wasn't even alive. His citizen's folder stated that he had been dead for 10 years and that she, Madam Rosalia, was a widow. What an absolute joke.

Few knew of him, the Gypsy Market Mob Boss, her ex-husband. He applied a great deal of practical intellect to what many would consider a brutefully forceful career. Collecting tabs from the various Gypsy Market stall owners for "protection" and dealing with those who refused to comply with great severity were just a few of the activities that governed his daily life. But ever since he had risen to the absolute top of the mob hierarchy, he never had to do the job himself ever again. She for a time, was the only person who knew where he hid. But ever since their separation, he had changed hideouts multiple times to throw off assassins and jealous rivals. And most frustratingly, the law ignored him. Not because they didn't want to catch him, but because they simply couldn't hold a trial against a dead man. A deal made with a corrupt politician years prior had paid off immensely in his favour. So the Gypsy Market Mob Boss continued in his reign over the market, and in recent months, he had been getting more and more aggressive in his demands. The Gypsy Market was losing business because its stall owners couldn't make a cent with the ridiculous fees that he imposed on them. People no longer felt that the market was safe and the crowds were starting to avoid it like the plague. Perhaps it was time someone confirmed his death certificate.

Rosalia hadn't picked up a weapon in years. For the past half a decade, she had lived as a simple barmaid, constantly switching between employers so as to maintain a low profile and to never remain in the same place for too long. Few knew of the immense fortune she possessed from her years a mobster. The few that were aware were affiliated with her ex-husband and sought to reclaim her wealth. She was sick of hiding.

"And that is why I've brought you here today. In my prime, I would've tracked him down and did it myself," she lifted a bag of silver coins and put them on the table, addressing the individual that now stood before her.

"There are others who have responded to the call. Meet back here tomorrow at seven in the morning sharp. The others will be waiting for you. Bring me evidence that he's dead, and I'll reward you all handsomely."

@danzilla3 @Thotification

Edited by The Courier

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Though the payment on offer was no doubt generous, it was irrelevant as far as Noah was concerned.

Money was something that he could get at anytime. He could hack into just about any financial institution in the world and have a practically infinite amount of cash for a few hours of work. If he didn't wish to stir up trouble with the law, he could write predictive algorithms that would allow him to exploit market trends for his own gain. Or if he cared nothing for collateral damage he could storm in to any bank he wished and take what he liked. No, he wasn't doing this for money.

Experience. That was what he wanted.

In nearly a thousand years of existence, he had accrued a great wealth of experiences; but in a surprisingly narrow field. He had taken advantage of his seeming immortality to gain a great deal of knowledge and skills. The result was scores of degrees from universities all over the world; some of which no longer existed. But in dedicating his life to the pursuit of knowledge, he felt he had neglected something fundamental in what it meant to be human. If he was to truly surpass humanity as he claimed, he needed to experience more of what it meant to be human.

Arriving at the bar at the appointed time, he was today wearing the appearance of a young man in a well tailored suit. He pushed open the doors and walked up to the counter.

"I'm here for the job."
 

 

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Aelene Hasleim

 

An elven woman turned around at the sound of the door opening. She hopped off the counter, a soft thud echoing off the floor from her leather boots. Clad entirely in black with a broad-shouldered mantle, one might’ve assumed that she was a military commander. She raised her eyebrow and put a hand on her hip.

“I see that we’ve both chosen to dress formally,” she grinned, extending her hand to shake that of the newcomer. “Aelene Hasleim, owner of The Courier.” Whilst a mission like this was likely to have attracted a predominantly violent folk, she would prove to be quite the contrary. 

“The gangs have been killing the business in Blairville for months, and its only gotten worse recently. I don’t suppose you know what to do with any of this, do you?” 

She gestured to a row of items laid out on the counter. Among them was what appeared to be a tube of blood, several access cards, two distinctly different keys, and several other items that she couldn’t seem to make sense of.

@danzilla3

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Noah had already known the name of the establishments owner before he walked in. He had run the name of the business through a search algorithm that had turned up a business license, which led to a birth certificate. A similar process had left him briefed on the gang situation in the city. The escalating gang war was pretty much the only thing the news media were talking about; and the police databases were full of references to it. 

Knowledge was power; and his information gathering abilities made him very powerful indeed.

Extending his hand to shake hers, he uttered only, "Noah."

At Aelene's direction, he turned his attention to the objects on the table. Fixing his gaze on the seemingly random assortment of items, he scanned each and every one of them thoroughly before giving his answer.

"Human blood, type O negative. A search of medical records indicates that our employers husband possesses this type. Keycards all belong to the same building, though their programming does not reveal the location they belong to. Both keys appear to be fitted for the same lock. The composition of the metals used during their construction are unique to the local area. Cross referencing their customer list with known shell companies confirms that it was made for the husband."

He looked up at Aelene, "My conclusion would be that these objects are meant to help us break into our targets hideout."

Edited by danzilla3

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“Hmmph,” she mused to herself. “I don’t suppose you figured that out on the spot,” she teased, before identifying the very real possibility that he had indeed deduced all of it on the spot. “Okay, nevermind...”

 

She walked over to the counter and picked up one of the keycards. “This tells us absolutely nothing. Maybe we’ll have better luck following one of his cronies back to some sort of hideout. Perhaps that could give us more clues.”

 

She turned back to Noah with a playful glint in her eyes, “Up for a little detective work?”

@danzilla3

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After two hours of careful planning and preparation, Noah and Aelene set off to the Gypsy Market to acquire more information. A scheme had been hatched, one so simple and mundane that it was absolutely fool proof. They had figured out that since the mobsters demanded tolls from the various individuals who roamed the market, locating one of their hideouts was a simple matter of hooking a tracker up to a purse, and ‘convincing’ one of the mobsters to forcefully acquire it. From there, they hoped that the hideout would give them more information to work with. The alternative was to go in guns blazing, but that would be an outright violation of the law and Aelene wanted to avoid murdering anybody unnecessarily.

 

As they approached the Market, her hands tightened around the trap purse and adrenaline began to course through her veins.

 

“Do you see anything?” she asked Noah, who could apparently figure out information about anyone through his highly sophisticated data readers.

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Noah had seen the like of the Gypsy Market a thousand times throughout his myriad lifetimes, and he always found them uncomfortable. Too crowded, too noisy, too much going on in general. But this was where the plan called for them to be, so he would bear with it for now. 

"Give me a moment."

Using his own facial recognition, he began to scan through the crowd, cross referencing the data with local police records. In seconds he had picked out three potential targets that would suit their purposes. The first was a mugger, ruled out for his propensity for unneeded violence. Second candidate was also ruled out for being a known sex offender. The third was a known purse snatcher, perfect for their mission.

"Three o' clock, the man with the facial tattoos. Present him with the opportunity and he will almost certainly take the bait."

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“Alright, walk with me,” Aelene laced her arm with Noah’s elbow as they began a pleasant and unassuming stride into the market. Her eyes drifted to and fro, trying not to focus on any one thing for too long. She slid her purse into her right palm, clutching it relatively tightly. Somehow, it didn’t feel right to make it too obvious that they were trying to get robbed.

 

As they set foot into the market, her eyes darted to the side, finding a store that sold vision aids. Heading there would place them directly behind the man that Noah had pointed out. Tugging softly, she steered Noah in that direction as they walked swiftly, pretending the admire the various goods around them.

 

Unfortunately, an unexpected obstacle presented itself. An unknown individual (first man who Noah identified) suddenly came from an unexpected angle and stood directly in their path. They stopped. As they began to skirt sideways around him, the man moved into their path yet again. He folded his arms and scoffed.

 

“Honey...” Aelene whimpered in feigned nervousness. She just hoped Noah would be able to react appropriately to the change in situation.

 

@danzilla3

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"Just take what you want," Noah said plainly.

The mugger scowled and snatched the purse from Aelene's arms; but did not move to leave after he did so. It seemed like the man wasn't sure what to do; perhaps not sure how to respond to someone who was plainly unafraid of him. Noah wasn't good at feigning emotion that he didn't feel, so pretending he was afraid of a man he could kill with no effort. Apparently this was something the criminal just couldn't tolerate.

"I'll do whatever I want!"

Words were followed up with a backhand across his face that barely registered to Noah, As for the mugger, it seemed to take him a moment before he noticed the pain shooting up his arm. Hissing out a string of expletives, the criminal looked at his victim with confusion. Narrowing his eyes, he grabbed Aelene and yanked her forward.

"Bitch, you're coming with me!"

Noah stood silently as his companion was dragged away. He figured that if the woman wanted to be rid of the man that she was perfectly capable of dispatching him herself. 

 

 

Edited by danzilla3

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“Hey!” Aelene exclaimed as the thug began to drag her away. “You’re not taking anything, asshole!”

Bringing her arm up firmly, the soft surface of her palm struck his cheek like a brick. The man howled and clutched his face, dropping the purse in the process. With a swift swipe of her wrist, Aelene caught the purse as it fell and turned to walk away.

Until she felt a firm grip around her shoulder. “Oh, you’re not getting away that easy, bitch!” The man had recovered almost instantly from the blow and was quick to spin her around with the leverage that her shoulder offered.

“You’re on our turf now!” he growled, returning the slap with one of his own. The blow came in twice as powerful as the one Aelene had dealt, snapping her head abruptly to the side. As the initial sting wore off, she felt blood on her cheek where hardened calluses had torn her skin.

”And nobody messes with us!” he added, turning her back and delivering a powerful blow to her gut. She bent forward unwittingly in a knee-jerk reaction, gasping for air as his fist forced its way up into her lungs.

”Let this be a warning,” the man stated sternly, before withdrawing his fist from her abdomen and forcefully pushing her to the ground. He bent down, scooped up the purse and walked away briskly as a crowd began to form.

As Noah came to help her to her feet, concerned onlookers gave them sympathetic glances. In spite of the soreness in her body, a smirk found its way onto Aelene’s bloody lips.

“I think we got em.”

@Twitterpated

Edited by The Courier

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c32c3ec45aebf2faf563d17f1afd97f9.jpgHe'd spent so long assuming the role of chancellor that the Magician had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be free of responsibility. What was originally just a helping hand had transpired into so much more. After handing off his responsibilities however, he'd finally managed to wind up right where he wished to; Back to basics. Xartia's first experience in resuming his travels was to the dreaded Haunted Glen, where he found himself discovering an old friend had managed to find this world as quite a few others had. Being back in Terrenus, he almost felt obligated to pay a visit to a town that he'd not gotten to get a good enough look at prior, thanks to the civil unrest sparked in the region thanks to the Safeguard Act. Blairville. Perhaps the social climate was a bit more accepting of his sort these days, or perhaps they were that much more apprehensive. The only sure thing Xartia knew was that he still refused to register himself as a caster of any variety, and he refused to limit him prowess to what was deemed an acceptable brand of magic by the small minds of these weary natives.

“You’re on our turf now!”

As per usual, the Cambion had apparently chosen the pique time to arrive in the area. The Fuckening, he'd learned to call it. Though he physically couldn't see the transpiring dispute, he was more than capable of viewing it in a whole other spectrum thanks to his WIZARD EYES. It seemed the source of the yelling was a masculine signature, following his words with an abrupt slap upon what was undoubtedly a feminine one. The two were not alone, for a couple other masculine aura's were also in their company. Though one of them read apart from the majority, in which he easily aligned the alien masculinity with the feminine aura. 

”And nobody messes with us!”

second blow came to pass, in which Xartia hastened his stride, though he refused to run necessarily. While unaware of the greater details, it was painfully obvious what sort of guys the perpetrators were. Not only could he tell by their choice of vocabulary, but also the manner in which they used it. Thugs and ruffians, the polar opposite of himself. A gentleman. Ever nearer he drew, his right hand clinching his umbrella rather reluctantly as he second guessed whether or not he should even get involved. Though it wasn't everyday you happened across what seemed to be humans ruffing up an elf. Such a disgraceful mockery of his heritage, for he reigned from a clan that was primarily composed of these two specific types of beings.

”Let this be a warning,”

Now as the crowd was forming, Xartia found himself at the forefront of it more or less. Being of a more olive tone with such exotic, handsome features, he almost blended in rather seamlessly with the natives. Though as the scoundrel scooped up the bag and briskly began to walk away, the Cambion unfortunately decided to go against his the grain and expose himself; Begrudgingly in front of so many witnesses, in his as his actual self. Without so much as lifting a finger, a translucent orb encased in ghastly tongues of purple, blue, and green flames appeared; Seemingly out of thin air! The orb was no larger than that of a softball, and as menacing as the alien use of the magic at hand appeared, it wasn't but a moment later than it revealed itself as benign in it's current state. The orb whisked away from himself, a borrowed portion of the Great Æther. Under his influence, the orb whirled past the victims and into the man's back as he fled with the stolen bag, only to pass through and out of his torso without leaving a trace of it having touched him to begin with. 

Suddenly the orb began to scintillate, ultimately producing a blinding wave of brilliant white light as the orb burst! The man at the forefront of the crowd appeared before the fleeing scoundrel, after which the previous location he stood in found itself occupied by an after image that slowly faded away as if he'd never been there to begin with. Dressed sharp in a black blazer over black slacks, he featured a green scarf that really made his sparkling, emerald eyes pop. A few rings adorned his fingers with precious jewels, though judging by his over all demeanor, one would be wise not to assume they were merely a fashion statement. His dark luscious curls were still kept rather short these days, slicked back save for the single bang hanging down his forehead, and just as shiny as his black, polished dress shoes. Standing at approximately 5'9", he was far from being an imposing figure with his ectomorphic build and angular, feminine facial features. Yet, here he was. The only warning of his prowess was the glimpse of unsanctioned magic he'd just exploited a brief moment ago.

"Indeed we have, got them that is. Boys, I believe you have something in your possession that isn't your's. I also believe that you owe the lady and gentleman your sincerest apologies."

 @The Courier @danzilla3

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“I believe, you should get out of my way before someone gets hurt,” the man replied straightforwardly, a ball of fire forming in his palm. The air around him began to hum as he powered up, the fire steadily crawling up his arm like a snake. He cracked his knuckles and stowed the purse in his pocket. This had quickly escalated from a simple robbery to a crushing of resistance. As little as whatever the purse was worth, Xartia proved to be a threat to the gang’s notoriety. It would encourage resistance amongst the citizens.

 

It would soon become evident to Xartia that the man had backup. Somewhere further within the crowd, electricity began to crackle around another individual who started wading between people to get to the confrontation. He too was dressed in a similarly outlandish manner as the first thug. The crowd parted as the two of them approached Xartia with hateful intent.

@Twitterpated

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"It appears that someone has already gotten hurt."

He retorted in regards to the victims on this petty crime. Before he could seen the ball of flame manifest in the palm of the ruffian's hand, he could feel the energy pooling. He could see shimmering arcana as it flowed around and through the man's limb and into his hand. As for the additional ruffian that was yet to be seen stepping forth through the crowd, he too could feel and see the different vibrations and aura that consisted of the more electric affinity. In his younger years he might have smirked, snickered even; Though in his more mature stance he simply felt bad for the men assembling against him, adamant on procuring this purse. It made him wonder what was inside it, for petty coin was didn't seem worthy of this sort of attention. Then again, thugs only spoke one language. Respect. In which they clearly had none.

Just as he had done earlier, he produced not one, but this time two of those illustrious orbs; Which served as his limit of borrowing from the Great Æther at a time. This was not to be confused with him pooling and manifesting his own energy outright. These two orbs came to float about a meter from his figure, orbiting his mid section across from one another with Xartia at their center. The orbs bobbed up and down as they circled him curiously. For those whom hadn't noticed him do this the first time, he was now standing spot light when he repeated the offense; Easily branding him as a user of unsanctioned magic. Criminals likely didn't mind due to their lack of respect for the law themselves. Though the difference between Xartia and these men was something so great they refused to comprehend it themselves. That or they cared about their reputation more than their own well-being. 

"Brother give me strength."

He spoke begrudgingly as he truly wished to avoid conflict at all cost. Not because he wasn't the fighter or warrior type, but because his brand of magic was infinitely more dangerous than the elements these men wished to pose against him. By strength he meant not prowess; He more so meant for the light prayer to serve as a request for the strength of restraint. Undoubtedly these men would be hurt by him when they inevitably pressed him, though he hoped he did not kill them in the process.

@The Courier

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“Yeah boy, say your prayers,” the thug puffed up his chest as he continued to standoff against Xartia. The fire began to cloak his body, hovering just an inch off his skin and clothing. There was a loud crack as he jerked his neck abruptly to the side.

 

Xartia might’ve stood and stared, had there not been 250 volts of electromotive force passing through his body from the palms of the electric wizard. The man abruptly jerked out from a flanking angle, his fingers tingling with live current that made its way into Xartia’s body. Seizing this opportunity, the first thug cocked his fist and sought to land a right hook across Xartia’s pretty face.

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"Boy?"

He repeated with some amount of obvious offense taken. Though he did not follow him with his line of vision, Xartia didn't need to see the man so long as he could both feel his aura and feel him through the Aether. The moment the additional thug cast his jolt, the tiny hair on the all about the Cambion's body stood on end. While the voltage was something of discomfort, Xartia was prepared to accept it without any real detriment to be found in it. Magic or science, the perception mattered not; any bright lad knew that amperage was the dangerous part of the electrical affinity. In the same moment, the floating orb nearest the electric thug began to glow a brilliant white and bombinate feverishly. At precisely the moment just before he was struck, Xartia used the materia orb as he called them to quick cast a spell without having to account for all the energy worked into it himself. In this case, the orb burst into a bolt that arched through the air and struck the thug at the same instant he was punching the Cambion in the face; A grievous act Xartia had hoped to avoid. Perhaps the Aether bolt would incapacitate him well enough for the Cambion to resist any further threats against his life. 

The moment the other thug moved to try and capitalize on what appeared to be a vulnerable Xartia when with the turn of his face and the moderate craning of his neck. While he did lean with the force of the strike, he failed to double over or stumble. As much as he detested physical combat, he had learned at least how to take a punch. Xartia committed to repeating the previous offense, metabolizing the remaining orb into the form of another bolt of Aether that streaked through the air before driving into the fire thug's torso. Both men likely finding themselves incapacitated if not completely unconscious. Xartia stopped for a moment to smooth over the fabrics of his clothing, likewise to correct his hair by raking his fingers through it; Slicking it to the back. Approaching the fire thug, Xartia looted his pockets, discarding anything that wasn't the stolen purse before turning and walking towards whom he suspected the purse belonged to.

"I believe this belongs to you. Sorry I wasn't able to help sooner, are you okay?"

@The Courier @danzilla3

 

Edited by Twitterpated

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