Stormchaser Roleplaying - Crowley's Web

Somewhere deep in Dunslough Ghetto No matter how high he strove, the smog always felt like home to Crowley. The stench of it calmed his heart in a way that twisted his pride. It sickened him. The spider pulls his coat tight around him and dips his cap, a low glow from his cigarette illuminated the muddied face of his bird. "Not much changes in these parts, do they? The rest of Duskvol is a hive of chaos. It grows. It withers. It breathes. But not here. It's a mountain, watching the hills battle for survival." Crowley pulls out his pocket case of spiced smokes, offering one to a muddied worker. The two are alone. "Right out of Ironhook and you're no better or worse than last we met. Crow's Foot, Foley. What are they saying in the glasshouse these days?" (edited)

"That's Lyssa's days are numbered," Foley croaks in reply, drawing heavily on the offered smoke. "She's bloodied and livid and more dangerous than ever."

The spider hides a smirk. He starts leaning back against the dingey alley wall, but decides against it. It would take weeks to get the grime out of his coat. "There's some heat on the mob that hit 'em," Crowley states, as a matter of fact. "Must've been sloppy. Any word on what the loose end was? Between the bluecoats' hubris and the spite of whatever crow survived that slaughter, someone's gotta be talking..."

"Yeah, some half-mad fool was prattling on to anyone who's listen about a boat that came and went and could control the ghosts. I think that the Bluecoats hauled him in."

"Control ghosts? Maybe he is mad. Though, maybe not. It's a madhouse out there since Roric's death. Wonder if a Crow even planned a coup and found a whisper for the job." The spider let's the air settle as the clamour of the ghetto envelopes the air around them. "Lianna's well, then. Her treatment hasn't stopped - the kid's'll be glad you're home."

Foley's eyes narrow when Crowley mentions his children and their mother. "What's it to you? Look, if this was an internal power play then Lyssa would still be out for blood, but she'd be sheddin' it left right and centre. That 'ain't it. They say that she's plannin' a war."

Noticing the immediate tension, Crowley raises his hands in jest. Lowering them, he laughs, "At ease. It's good to have you out." "She's been planning a war since before Roric died. It's just that everyone else can see that now."

Foley shrugs. "Let's just say that I'd hate to be the fools who hit the Crow's Nest, because she's comin' for 'em."

"You take care, Foley. This city's due to explode at any minute." The spider flicks the butt of his cigarette and stamps it out. He flicks his collar up, covering his face from the smog, hiding a grim expression before taking his leave. (edited)

The Devil's Tooth, Nightmarket Crowley pinches the bridge of his nose, lost in thought as he sips at a tumbler of whatever dark spirit the bartender had poured him. He didn't bother to check. The bitter alcohol almost has a syrup-like consistency, and burnt as he tilts his neck back, leaning into the old leather booth seat. He grunts. "Oh good. You got my message," he observes, as privacy beads part and a woman of his age from the Dagger Isles walks in. "So? Anyone talking about a Whisper working with the Crows?" A bad habit of his under stress. Straight to business. But Salia always came through for him. (edited)

"Not particularly, but doesn't every crew in the city have one in some shape or form?" Salia shoots back as she takes a seat, toying with her drink as she does so. Her voice is dusky and her accent full of slurred vowels.

"Right. Right, no you've got a point." He closes his eyes for a second before eyeing her. He leans in, mimicking her as she swirls her drink. Under the clamour of nightlife, he confides: "I'm looking for one that was at the Nest, or should've been in that tower when the bloodbath started. A name that's still kicking around. Even one that frequents the area." The devil's in the details, and this was no time to be vague with friends. Another bad habit.

Salia reclines with a smug smirk. "So you're not just looking for any old Crow Whisper. You want Lyssa's Whisper."

Still leaning forward, he raises his drink at Salia. "Maria's Law would imply this is the part you tell me the whisper couldn't handle a few ghosts," the spider jests, "but I never knew you to be superstitious. One that close would be a fool's target." He matches her smirk. (edited)

"Make your mind up, Crowley," Salia tells the spider pointedly. "You want a Crow Whisper that should have been at the Crow's Nest when it was hit - that's your answer. It's not my fault that you don't like it." (edited)

Crowley drops his smirk. "You've lost your sense of humour. When have I ever shied away from ambition?" He pauses. "What's going on? There's something bothering you." The spider looks past her, and back to the informant; a face of concern replacing his previous jest.

Salia shakes her head. "I can only give you what you want if you tell me what it is, Crowley," she explains, tracing her finger around the rim of her glass and licking her lips. "What do you need a Crow Whisper for?"

This time it isn't the spider that opened his mouth, but the Repriever. In for a quarter, in for a credit, it seemed. He closes his mouth and furrows his brow, straightening his coat. "Ambition is a funny little creature. It leads a dangerous, exciting trail. I want to see where this trail ends," he admits as he locks eyes. He considers lying about the situation. The thought leaves as quick as it came. This was one person he couldn't lie to. "The blues are hunting potential leads on the massacre at Crow's Nest. Hounds and cutters call what I'm doing a 'double-tap.'" The Repriever tilts his neck back, emptying the tumbler and putting it on the table. Four cubes of partially melted ice dance around as if performing the ballet. Ambition, was it? (edited)

Salia laughs humourlessly. "Don't be coy. They're not hunting for leads, they're hunting your crew. Not with any particular diligence, mind you, but they won't hesitate to throw you in Ironhook, if you give them the chance."

The spider raises an eyebrow. "Tell me I'm wrong. They're hunting leads - I just want to give them reasonable doubt. Direct them somewhere else. My crew's been missing some goods, did you know that? Can hardly help it if a Crow held some... loyalty still to the old boss. They hear about new gear on the market and take a chance." He cocks his head and purses his lips. "This is something I want to get ahead of before 'not with any particular diligence' festers into 'special investigations'. Ambition, Salia. The streets are a hell of a lot darker since Lyssa's been on top. A name might at least help throw her in a loop."

"A scape goat, hm?" Salia muses. "One of Roric's?"

"You really think everyone on that chain's happy with their new management?" (edited)

Crowley knocks twice, then once again on the booth walls, signalling a waiter for another round. He continues, "If Lyssa wasn't bloodthirsty before the hit on that tower, she is now. I want to kick her in the balls while she's on the ground. I don't know where her whisper's loyalties truly lie, but my crew are going to leave her without a whisker of doubt that she's been stabbed in the back. Vendetta's are a deadly weapon because they don't discriminate. But they can be easily directed."

"...and you want a name?" Salia finishes for Crowley.

Crowley sighs, "Yes, I want a name. Details. Who are they and where are they?"

Salia grins. "Roric's favourite whisper was a girl named Brina. Last I heard, you'll find her in the Devil's Furnace on Black Goat Court."

The spider shakes his head and cracks a like grin. He taps his empty tumbler and lifts it slightly. A toast. The rattle of beads shifts his eyes to a young waiter, just arrived. "Ah, good timing," he glances at the small drinks menu set aside on the table as if he were really giving it thought. "A short of your svappir. Old fashioned. You still drink Red Ink? On me." Salia always comes through. Devil's Furnace. Black Goat Court. Crowley sits back and unbuttons his cuffs, gingerly rolling his sleeves up. "You almost let me forget how much you love playing hard to get."

Harley [Karn|Rliad|Sigeweard] changed the channel name: Crowley's Web 10/04/2023 05:16