.
((As of August 4th, the note had been taken down.))
((OOC: Responses to the thread are encouraged; or just drop me a line in game.))
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Sound score:
Somewhere by Within Temptation.
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This warm summer night cradles Geffen softly. The citizens of the great city, those good and evil, and those somewhere in-between, sleep soundly in their beds; a sky full of stars passes majestically overhead. Even the most dedicated vendors and public servants are nowhere to be seen.
Little is heard but the chirping of crickets and an occasional passage of swift feet belonging to a late-night messenger. Except... Wait. In a corner of the main plaza, a cat’s escalating yowl is cut off by a sharp snap. And shortly after, the hammering begins.
Behold the tower- the massive spire that watches over Geffen with hundreds of its lidless eyes, the center of magedom which hosts eldritch horrors in its profound depths. Its iron-bound doors have turned away a thousand enemies, and will do so for the foreseeable future. We can see now a cloaked and hooded figure, loitering before these mighty gates. The small and olive-colored hands of the figure are wielding.. a sizeable rock, and pounding what appears to be a cactus needle into the magic-infused material of the entryway.
The needle goes in with surprising ease.
The needle is holding down a piece of parchment.
On this parchment, neatly scrawled in rusty-red ink, is a notice.
“A reliable henchman is seeking the patronage and protection of an evil mage overlord. Specialty in necromancy strongly preferred, but not necessary.
Skills offered include:
Stabbing, taunting and blackmailing enemies, in no particular order.
Serving tea and lovely homemade scones to allies.
Light housekeeping and lair maintenance work.
Morale-boosting speeches to fellow minions of evil.
Willing to travel.
4 days off per month required. Salary is negotiable. Health benefits are not.
References available on request; see the back of the ad for a PO box number, or feel free to appear in dreams/unholy manifestations/etc any time after 8 PM.
Signed,
Cat McWren”
The figure drops its hammer-rock, brushes off its hands and surveys the message with obvious satisfaction. Turns around, surveys the still-deserted plaza. Waits a moment, takes a deep breath.
“COOKIE! OI, COOOOKIIIIE!”
The voice is shrill and decidedly female.
A loud crash of an honest citizen falling off the edge of the bed echoes in the distance, and someone inquires shrilly regarding the lateness of the hour. The figure ignores them, watching, instead, a feathered menace emerge from the shadows of the deserted vending stalls nearby. It is tall, with small body serving as mere transition between wickedly taloned feet and the sinuous neck. A cat tail dangles, twitching faintly, from the bill at the top of the neck. The peco blinks at the figure owlishly.
“Come on, feather-brain. Let’s skip this joint,” Mutters the figure, vaulting onto the bird’s back with apparent ease, “For all we know, they’ve got some weird vandalism and anti-evil-lord laws around here, as well.”
