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  #16  
Old Dec 5th, 2023, 03:40 AM
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Dianthe the Hetéra
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Dianthe the Hetéra
The non-smile Jorunn gives Dianthe chills her to the core, but she refuses to show that she is intimidated by him. Instead, she pretends this is all a joke, feigning a laughter as lively as the water that comes rushing out of a fountain.

"Killing is not something I am familiar with, dear Jorunn. Women bring life to the world, not death." The hetéra knows that her answer is naive, but that is exactly how she wants to appear to him, in this matter at least. "Still, since this is only a game, I’ll try to play, even without knowing the rules. Kill you, you say? I don’t know… A slit throat seems to be the traditional way of dealing with such matters."

She is lying and she suspects that Jorunn can tell. She would never send an assassin after a man like Jorunn. On the contrary, she would try to win his trust and learn all about him - his convictions, his habits, his passions, the people and objects he surrounds himself with. Only then would she act, catching him by surprise. A cup of poisoned wine served by the familiar owner of a cook-shoppopina or taverncaupona, or even just a shove from behind at just the right moment, are sure to have the intended effect.

"Or perhaps I would seek Levian’s advice." The hetéra’s smile darkens and it too becomes feral. "I believe he has much experience in this type of games."



 


 
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Old Dec 5th, 2023, 07:20 PM
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shed go poison jorunn thinks to himself. that is the typical weapon of women

he responds to dianthes quote "In the realm of blades and shadows, I discern the stark divergence between a soldier and a killer. A soldier, draped in the false valor of duty, follows orders without question, a mere puppet in the hands of emperors and generals. They march in unison, their souls chained to the whims of their masters, oblivious to the true cost of their allegiance.

A killer, on the other hand, is a solitary force, an artisan of death who weaves through the night like a silent wraith. We, the scarred ones, bear witness to the grotesque dance of war and abhor the obedient legions who wrap themselves in the illusion of honor. The soldier fights for a cause, a banner stained with the blood of distant rulers. The killer, however, fights for the whispering wind, for the untamed spirit that refuses to bow to the whims of kings.

Soldiers, with their polished armor and regimented formations, are the pawns of power, driven by the blind allegiance to authority. Their discipline is a shackle, their obedience a betrayal of their own humanity. As a scarred Gaulish assassin, I stand apart from their ranks, my contempt etched into the very scars that mark my journey. I am not a soldier; I am a killer. I am the shadows that haunt their dreams, the embodiment of resistance against the tyranny of conformity. In the realm of the blade, I find solace, and in the disdain for soldiers, I forge my path."


he grins, showing pearly white teeth "im feeling a simple strangulation or suffocation would cut it for you. slip in, and muffle your screams with a pillow until you dont move, then bug out. walls and club-wielding guards are not true foes for a man of my caliber"
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Last edited by Hotshot lasgun; Dec 6th, 2023 at 02:47 AM.
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  #18  
Old Dec 6th, 2023, 02:08 AM
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Dianthe the Hetéra
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Dianthe the Hetéra
The hetéra’s smile gradually vanishes as Jorunn explains with flaming passion the difference between a killer and a soldier, himself and Levian. She has never known a man like him, one so passionately in love with his… work. Most men and women will kill under the right circumstances, but for Jorunn the act of ending someone’s life is an art. Dianthe finds this equally enticing and disturbing, so much so in fact that her fellow Eagle’s final comment doesn’t shake her as much as it should.

"You see beauty where others see only death, I understand this much", she replies earnestly, "but what about life itself? Does it not fill your heart with pleasure? The taste of fragrant wine in your mouth, a song that reminds you of the place of your birth, the touch of soft fabric on your skin, a woman’s lips pressed against your own… Don’t such things make your heart beat faster as well? Who is Jorunn when he doesn’t take another’s life? What makes him smile as brilliantly as I have seen him do?"

Her hands touch the Gaul’s right one and her fingers brush over his skin, exploring every bone, tendon, and muscle, trying to understand the secret hiding among them.

"There must be more to this hand than the ability to wield a blade", she continues, not pausing in her journey over the hills and valleys of the assassin’s fingers. "What about the time when it was soft and tender, belonging to a bright-eyed child whose mind was as far away from death as the peak of Olympus is from the depths of Tartarus? What made this hand grow hard and so familiar with the stickiness of shed blood?"

The hetéra’s hands reluctantly let go of Jorunn but her eyes never do. The one before her intrigues her greatly. There must be more to him than simply a trained killer, more man than scars.



 


 
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  #19  
Old Dec 6th, 2023, 02:59 AM
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jorunn considers dianthe for a long moment. "there is a child inside me. i learned early that children are cruel, and im very in touch with my inner child if need be" he smiles coldly, and points out the facial scar "i got that in my thirteenth winter in the seax-dalen. they send out sons on their first raid with the blooded veterans. an old legionary almost got me, but i killed him, and returned victorious. not many can claim a legionary as their first kill."

he continues "gaulish life is different. you rise with the sun, and you do a lot of work. sons learn swordplay and fieldcraft, and daughters learn medicine and other things. its a hard and unforgiving lifestyle, but it has its benefits" he quirks his mouth "you either grow up hard, or you dont grow up at all"
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Last edited by Hotshot lasgun; Jan 19th, 2024 at 06:10 PM.
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Old Dec 20th, 2023, 12:11 PM
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Ignaea
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Ignaea

Ignaea sits looking imploringly at Levian, having already submitted herself to his judgment of the right timing. If he tells her a year, she will gladly stand for him at unpromising street corners. Or two years. Everything she will do for the man she needs so much for his help. But mostly what she hopes for now is a soothing word from him. Praise for her efforts and a simple not too long now.

When he starts scolding her, she looks dejected at first, then just stares at the floor between her feet. Her shoulders move slightly as she tries to control her breathing but when Levian is done, she turns around abruptly so as not to reveal them heaving.

She remains seated with her back to the door opening. Not trusting her voice for any reply she waits silently till his footsteps have reached the bottom of the stairs.

When Levian joins his wing, they hear a clip-clop bursting from the insula and rapid steps disappearing around the corner, slightly uneven when a loose heel hits the cobbles before the shoe is well and truly down.


The Aemilian Bridge
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Aemilian Bridge

The road down to the river is flanked by a forbidding building, the Aemilian Basilica, proudly showing the new shields that Lepidus placed there to his own greater glory.

Streams of people enter and leave the basilica's many courts, bits of their conversations brushing past the wing crossing through the crowd. Negotiations on the grain dole, political tensions, necessity of more import levies, military threats in the east, even the The brothers Gracchus had authored agrarian reformsGracchi, all so urgent that they spill out onto the streets.

Then, as suddenly as the crowd appeared, they've all passed inside and the street again belongs to workmen hauling goods up the slope. Several river barges have docked near the bridge and with much yelling and cracking of whips the heavy stones, needed for Rome's perpetual constructions, are unloaded. The gods in their many shrines and temples lining the street magnanimously ignore the coarser utterances in exchange for the gifts the devout bring them in quieter moments.

A bit further down, ox carts rumble across the bridge, laden with farm produce and wheat to feed Rome's million for another day. On the opposite side, empty carts roll back, pulled by less oxen, having left their brethren at butchers here and there.

Next to the bridge a flight of narrow steps leads to the riverbank under the bridge. It is there, in the unsavoury smell emanating from Rome's sewers, that the dead drop should be.


 
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  #21  
Old Dec 21st, 2023, 06:10 PM
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Dianthe the Hetéra
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Dianthe the Hetéra
Dianthe looks at Jorunn skeptically. The way of life he describes seems strange to her, a girl born in a province that only got to experience war when its unruly subjects sought King Mithridates’ support in breaking free from Rome’s control. Yet not too long ago, men and women in every Greek-speaking village, town, and city were experiencing conditions similar to what the Gaul described - a constant fight between life and death. Now, the province of Asia is “pacified”, the word sending shivers down the hetéra’s spine, when she recalls Rome’s brutality towards the rebels. And yet, despite their harshness, Dianthe cannot overlook the fact that the Romans have also enforced peace. A mother no longer has to worry that her adolescent son will kiss her for the last time before picking up his shield and spear and leaving his father’s house to fight the enemy of his city or king.

She opens her mouth to respond to Jorunn, but Levian’s appearance stops her, commanding her attention. The veteran is always grim, but she thinks she detects a hint of unease about him, though she cannot be certain. She doesn’t inquire what went wrong with Ignaea. The statues of her hortus are more likely to provide answers to her questions than Levian. Instead, she approaches him slowly and looks him in the eye.

"I want you to give her to me", she says earnestly. This is no time for promises based on sweet smiles or games of clever words. She intends to make a deal with her fellow Eagle. "She is of little use to you right now. Her feelings, unlike her sandals, will complicate matters for you. Besides, you would be doing me a favor. One I would be willing to repay."

She faces him with her head held high, but despite appearances she knows that she has revealed her weakness to him. She cares for young women who have no place in the world of powerful men. She won’t forget her own past and, if at all possible, she won’t allow another tender heart to be torn asunder by those who are false, uncaring, and cruel. She is prepared to give Ignaea a chance. It will be up to her to accept it or not.

"Don’t answer me now. Think about it."

Dianthe turns her back to the Roman, afraid not to reveal even more than she already has. Her back straight, she follows Jorunn to the Aemilian bridge, though her thoughts remain with the girl with the lyre.

*******

The closer Dianthe gets to the drop point, the more nervous she becomes. Her world is not one of legionaries marching towards the enemy with their scutum held high or of deadly daggers striking from the shadows. Her companions are better equipped to deal with whatever criminal won’t even hesitate before plunging his pugio in the chest of an innocent child. The skills of the hetéra will be of little use here. They might even make her a liability, or worse, a target.

The impressive basilica immediately draws her gaze, but she knows it will be difficult to blend in there. Such public buildings are usually reserved for men who have the time and proclivity to listen to cases being tried and orators debating about everything, ranging from a person’s goodness to the current price of bread. She realizes that if she is to enter it, many eyes will turn. The hetéra after all rarely remains unnoticed. It is both a blessing and a curse.

Avoiding the basilica, Dianthe looks around for a place where she can take refuge without raising suspicion, while her fellow Eagles investigate the area. A place that would be natural for her to visit or even to frequent. In a city of a million souls there must be a place that will satisfy her needs.



 


 
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Old Dec 27th, 2023, 03:57 PM
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jorunn will keep his head on a swivel, his hard eyes pinging back and forth for any sign of movement. "its quiet. too quiet" he murmurs. "keep your head on straight, and be prepared for anything" he says

Dice caa juno justified paranoia:
4df+3 (0, -1, 0, 0)+3 Total = 2
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Old Jan 2nd, 2024, 11:45 PM
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Levian
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Levian Osmanthus
Levian's frustration at Ignaea's senseless defiance is writ in the folds of his aging brow as he leaves the meeting spot behind. He attempts to still his mind and leave the issue behind as well, but that is not to be, for Dianthe is there, waiting to drag him back to the petty affair already.

He listens in silence as she lays out her offer. He hopes that he can disguise his perplexity within his already visible displeasure. She proposes to take Ignaea off his hands for him. She is no more use, she says. There is no doubt, Levian thinks, that the girl is less useful today than she was yesterday. But if she is of no more use, he wonders, for what does Dianthe intend to use her? It is that nagging question that keeps Levian from accepting on the spot. Absent worry over Dianthe's motivations, the deal is too good to be true. Levian gets to keep the benefits of Igaea's past service, gets promised a valuable favor, and is spared the trouble of having to figure out how to get a cithara Master to accept the girl. He doesn't even have to find a cithara master.

And in return, he pays what? Nothing. He introduces Dianthe to some plebian she could just as easily have met on her own? What is the cost? The question tears through him, for he is utterly unable to find the answer. What is the trick? What is the catch? What game is she playing? Dianthe is too smart to give up something for nothing, so what does she want?!

Her entreaty not to answer immediately breaks Levian free of that aimless spiral of thought. "Know that I will." he answers as he approaches the rest of the wing to walk away to their further business. There is no need to dwell here any longer. This has been a dead end, and other leads still await.




The Aemilian Bridge and its surroundings are busy. Not with anything important, but with enough to make it difficult to know who is watching whom.

Levian points out the dead drop to Jorunn "That's the spot there. Can you find a place that's out of the way, but where you'll still be able to get there before any visitor gets away?"

Levian's own criteria for a hiding place are slightly different. He wants to be close enough to see the face of whoever may approach the dead drop, but certain not to be seen. Even if the cost of that is that it takes him longer to reach the dead drop if he needs to. He decides upon the next sewer outflow upriver. It's dark, unlikely to be looked in at, and close enough to see clearly.

He indicates the tunnel to Jorunn "I'll be there, so I can see their faces. If someone approaches, I'll signal you by reflecting the sun to you with my dagger. One flash if it's the fence I know who associates with Austerus, Abactemus. Two flashes if it's someone else."

Then, he heads to the spot. He sits along the bank of the river, waiting for his moment when all the moment's passers-by have passed him. Just one moment where nobody is looking, then he slides off the edge, down the stone embankment, and slips into the darkness of the sewer outflow.

 


 


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Old Jan 6th, 2024, 03:59 AM
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The Aemilian bridge
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Aemilian Bridge

The crowd flows around the three eagles approaching the bridge without paying them any attention. Of those who are on the road alone, pursuing their own business, some stare fixedly ahead of them, intent on their destination. Some keep their heads down, anxious to avoid mud splatters on the bottom seams of dresses and togas; clothes they still need to impress other people today. Some pass by while counting things off on their fingers, mentally preparing for whatever it is they want to do when they reach their destination.

The gangs of slaves hauling stones disappear into the forum and their place is taken by other groups of people. For a moment there is a flaring of anger as a running messenger splashes mud onto another man's toga. This one makes a threatening gesture with his fist but quickly thinks better of it; a fight would only do more damage to his clothes. Muttering curses he walks past the eagles.

Dianthe tries to melt into the crowd but where everyone is moving about with purpose, a woman alone who is not going anywhere can not avoid attracting attention to herself.

jorunn is the first to go down the stairs, escaping the hustle and bustle on the main street. At a little distance from the dead drop he remains standing, watching his surroundings like a hawk. It seems he did not hear Levian's instructions but maybe he just chose not to respond to them.

Levian meanwhile hops down to the riverbank unobserved and crawls into the sewer outlet. Nobody will be able to go there without revealing their face to him.


 


The situation
aspects in play:
Zone 1: Street level. Present: Dianthe
Crowded streets; A woman alone in the crowd[GM]

Zone 2: Under the bridge. Present: jorunn
Quiet, too quiet

Zone 3: In the sewer. Present: Levian
Overpowering smell; In shadows I hide[boost][L]

Zone 4: In front of the dead drop. Present: Nobody

GM fate points: 3

Last edited by Dworin; Jan 9th, 2024 at 06:22 AM.
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Old Jan 6th, 2024, 07:28 AM
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Dianthe the Hetéra
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Dianthe the Hetéra
Hiding among the crowd proves impossible for Dianthe. Her radiant presence makes her stand out among the workers, artisans, and farmers walking the street, all of them men, just like the moon cannot hide among the stars of the night sky. It isn’t long before she realizes her mistake and within moments she finds a way to rectify it. She doesn’t need to actually hide herself, she realizes. She merely needs to appear occupied and uninterested in whatever is taking place beneath the bridge. No one knows she is an Eagle, while the whole city can tell that she is a hetéra. This will be her cover.

Fortuna clearly favors her, for a chance presents itself almost immediately. A messenger, no doubt fearing the wrath of his master, should he take too long to accomplish his given task, runs mindless of the throng of people around him and the grime that covers the busy street. His sandaled foot forcibly steps into a puddle of filthy water and splutters mud onto the toga of a passerby. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Dianthe pretends to lose her balance after having been shoved by the careless messenger, and within moments finds herself in the embrace of the man with the mud-stained clothes.

The man, who is shaking his fist angrily at the messenger and uttering curses unfit for the ears of a woman like Dianthe, appears utterly surprised. It is as if Venus herself just fell out of the sky and into his arms. In a way that is exactly what happened. The beautiful strange woman looks at him with cheeks painted a bright red from embarrassment, while her large eyes appear to be close to tears. She tries to steady herself, her hands seeking purchase on the man’s chest, her sweet breath caressing his cheek.

"By the gods! Please forgive me, kind stranger, for my clumsiness. I never intended to assault you in such a way. May Jupiter bless you for catching me before I ended up in the mud. I could have been trampled by the crowd."

The mere possibility of such a thing happening makes the woman bite her lips to keep her tears from flowing.

"I thank the gods for sending me such a gentle soul as you to keep me from harm. But I shall not take advantage of your generosity any longer. A man like you surely has no time to spare for foolish women like myself. Go, stranger, with my gratitude and may the gods repay you a hundred times over."

Dianthe smiles sweetly at the stranger and disentangles herself from the man, taking a step back. Immediately she gives out a painful cry as her feet seem unable to support the weight of her body and she is quick to take hold of the stranger’s arm to steady herself. This time she cannot hold back her tears.

"Oh, no, I cannot walk! I must have sprained my ankle. Why do the gods punish me so? How will I return home now?"

Despair darkens her face like stormy clouds covering the summer sun, but then she looks at the man next to her and a ray of hope lights her eyes.

"I know I ask too much of you, kind stranger, but could you help me find a place to sit? I don’t know what to do, a woman all alone in the crowd. Perhaps, you could keep me company? Just for a little while?"



 


 
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Old Jan 12th, 2024, 10:09 AM
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Aemilian Bridge

Street level
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A kind stranger

When Dianthe addresses the man, he looks sheepishly at his arm, raised uselessly after a messenger who neither hears nor sees him. He unclenches his fist and lets his hand sink, slowly at first, then with urgency as he becomes aware that he needs to support the woman. In a reflex, he manages to catch her just in time.

Humm, hrmmm, he says, slightly taken aback as he recalls the off-colour language he has just used. It is I who should ask for forgiveness, daughter of Athena, for the words I forced you to witness. He gazes at her face, captivated by the eyes so artfully brimming with tears. I would compare you with Helen and offer you my apples, he stammers, only I fear to make referring to the judgment of Paris that started the Trojan warVenus jealous.

When Dianthe stumbles, he is quick to catch her. Steady, lady. Lean on my arm. Like so. Forgotten is the splash of mud, at least for the moment, as he guides Dianthe to a low wall not far from the river but away from the bustle. If it is sprained it should be better after a moment's rest. Though you may wish to consult a servant of the goddess of healingAceso or one of the other daughters of Asklepios, god of medicineAsklepiades and stay in your domus for a few days.

Out of kindness, or perhaps unwilling to tear himself away from such a charming presence, the man seats himself not far from Dianthe. If I'm not intruding, what were you doing down here? The crowd here is rather rough and I always pass by as fast as I can, myself.


Is he who we have been waiting for?
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???

From a distance, the scene has been witnessed by a man in plain dress. He looks neither wealthy nor poor and with his face half hidden by a beard and topped by a bush of unruly hair, most people would forget his face immediately—if they ever noticed him in the first place.

The hustle and bustle is as usual, which seems to satisfy him but then his eyes move back to where they just scanned. In a mass of people, men, each moving with their own purpose, one woman, apparently a hetéra, stands oddly still, forcing people to swerve around her. Just as he thinks that this is odd, she seems to throw herself into the arms of a passerby. A new way of solliciting custom? No. She seems too sofisticated for such a crude act.

With foreboding, the man walks towards the bridge, then crosses the street and walks to the small stairs going down. He places a foot on the first step and then hesitates. His sixth sense tells him that he shouldn't go down here. Undecided, he looks around whether he sees any birds. There! two pigeons are picking at some grain that was spilled when a barge was unloaded. If they Looking at birds was one of Rome's favourite ways of fortune telling but I made up this examplefly up together, I will go. From the side of the street, a cat lunges at the birds, who quickly take wing. The man nods satisfied and descends the stairs, turning his face towards Levian as he arrives at the riverbank.


 


The situation
aspects in play:
Zone 1: Street level. Present: Dianthe, a kind stranger
Crowded streets; A woman alone in the crowd[GM]; A flame for the lame[D]

Zone 2: Under the bridge. Present: jorunn
Quiet, too quiet

Zone 3: In the sewer. Present: Levian
Overpowering smell; In shadows I hide[boost][L]

Zone 4: In front of the dead drop. Present: Nobody

GM fate points: 3

Last edited by Dworin; Jan 12th, 2024 at 10:58 AM.
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Old Jan 13th, 2024, 02:14 AM
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Levian
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Levian Osmanthus
This second lead, at least, seems to be paying off. Levian allows himself to hope that this means progress at last. Abactemus shows his face at the dead drop. Now it is time seal the exits to this trap, and collect their prey.

Levian withdraws his dagger, placing it in one of the beams of sunlight just outside the sewer tunnel. He reflects the sunlight towards Jorunn, passing the light across Jorunn's hiding place just once, as planned.

Then, he watches the man. There's the possibility that he'll see something valuable, of course, but he's mostly watching for a moment when Abactemus' back is turned. If that moment comes, he is ready to climb back out of the sewer tunnel and pursue, even if doing so will be slow because of the need to climb.


 


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Old Jan 13th, 2024, 03:38 AM
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Dianthe the Hetéra
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Dianthe the Hetéra
The stranger takes the bait and Dianthe merely has to tug at the fishing line sharply in order to secure her catch. She does so with a smile of gratitude and a soft laughter at the passerby’s compliment that brings obvious relief to her pain-filled countenance.

"Your words are like a healing balm, kind stranger, though I fear I currently resemble because of the leg woundPhiloctetes more than I do Helen."

The two look at each other and grin, the levity reflected in both of their faces. The moment is brief, passing far too quickly, but not before leaving behind a pleasant feeling of warmth in the stranger’s heart. The man is curious about this woman, so beautiful, so alone in this part of the city. What forces her to brave the streets unaccompanied by servants or male companions?

He carefully voices the question dominating his mind and immediately regrets this decision, for a shadow passes over the woman’s face, the brilliance of her eyes getting eclipsed as she lowers her head in embarrassment.

"I am foolish, I know, but I did not trust a piece of parchment or a servant to accomplish that which must be done."

She pauses and her gaze wanders far away, refusing to meet the eyes of the man next to her, eyes that are so full of kindness and understanding.

"You generously compare me to Helen, but Venus’ gift has brought me nothing but heartache, stranger. There are those who see these lips and would have them belong only to them. When rebuffed, they seek to ruin with slander what they profess to be eager to worship. It is exactly such a man I have come to meet here, for I am told that he frequents the Aemilian Bridge at this time of day."

Even as Dianthe effortlessly weaves her fantastical tale with colorful, passionate strands, tightly wrapping them around the man’s heart, her eyes search the crowd for another man, less kind but of greater interest. After a time she thinks she spies him. Of moderate height and weight and with simple clothes of passable quality and muted colors, the one she is waiting for is just another face in a city that possesses one hundred myriad different ones. He doesn’t stand out from the crowd and had the hetéra not been expecting his appearance, she would never have noticed him.

"…I cannot allow such lies to rob me of my dignity. At the same time I am only a woman, a foreigner in this great city, powerless and without legal rights. All I have to soften his heart are my tears. I will fall to my knees and humbly beg him to speak ill of me no more. The gods love the truth, so it is my hope that they will be at my side."

Dianthe sighs and her body trembles, but her eyes remain focused on her prey. It is her job to notice the little details, the ones that reveal the things that really matter about a person. Is this man truly so indistinct? She doesn’t think so. There must be something about him that defines him - his posture, a scar or the mark of illness, a particular piece of clothing, jewelry, the state of his sandals...

She thinks about Ignaea’s sandals and her lips form a tight line. What are Levian and Jorunn doing right now? Are they aware that the man is approaching them? Will they be alright?



 


 
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  #29  
Old Jan 14th, 2024, 09:32 AM
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Dworin Dworin is online now
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A kind stranger

The stranger wonders why he made such a compliment but the truth is that the company of the lady is agreeable to him, even if it was mere happenstance that forced it on her. When she accepts his compliment, he glows inwardly, though he knows the age of conquests has passed for him. Or perhaps it is exactly because of that knowledge that he enjoys being at the centre of her attention for a short moment.

That moment is lost when he asks her to explain her business. A jealous lover ... Now that she is not looking at him anymore he takes the time to study her in more detail and he notices what should have been obvious from the moment she fell on his arm. She is a hetéra; apparently one of her ... associates misunderstood the contract and wanted her exclusively.

With a feeling of regret, he is aware that she now pays him little mind; just enough to continue her explanation while she is scanning the passersby. Suddenly he is certain she has spotted the man she is looking for, though she remains seated. Perhaps her foot is still bothering her too much, he thinks as he too lets his gaze wander over the busy street.

Hearing her plan, he decidedly shakes his head, then, realising she is not looking at him says: No. What drives him is the urge to help her as well as the desire to regain her undivided attention. He waits a second for her to register his disapproval then continues: Such a man wishes to dominate you. By pleading you would be showing yourself weak, which gives him what he wants. He would only be encouraged.

Again he pauses a while, as if to make up his mind. Neither tears, nor a servant, nor yet a parchment. What is needed here is muscle. If you wish, I can give you an address where you can find men willing to convey a forceful message without any questions. These men I speak of don't care whether you have legal rights or not; it is only coin that speaks to them. And probably they require less of that than you fear. Or why just give you an address? I could bring you there; it is not too far out of my way.


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Dianthe, with your gaze, honed by years of looking at men, you notice that indeed the man who you think is Abactemus has very thin and underdeveloped legs, though not much shows under his clothes.


The situation
aspects in play:
Zone 1: Street level. Present: Dianthe, a kind stranger
Crowded streets; A woman alone in the crowd[GM]; A flame for the lame[D]

Zone 2: Under the bridge. Present: jorunn
Quiet, too quiet

Zone 3: In the sewer. Present: Levian
Overpowering smell; In shadows I hide[boost][L]

Zone 4: In front of the dead drop. Present: Abactemus

GM fate points: 3
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  #30  
Old Jan 19th, 2024, 06:12 PM
Hotshot lasgun Hotshot lasgun is offline
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jorunn will move slowly towards the fence when the noises on top of the bridge cover the sloshing his boots make through the murky water. cosh him over the back of the head, and then bag and drag him he thinks

Dice jorunn pluto roll:
4df+1 (0, 0, 0, -1)+1 Total = 0


ooci will succeed at cost. id prefer him alive, and reasonably undamaged
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Last edited by Hotshot lasgun; Jan 19th, 2024 at 06:13 PM.
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