Wingmen - Bones & Menace (narrative)
Jul 11, 2020 15:47:36 GMT
BB, Ian (Menace), and 2 more like this
Post by Pieni on Jul 11, 2020 15:47:36 GMT
These events took place last year, before the conclusion of the war in K’ul Goran
.
--
The Flourished Hook is abuzz with the sounds of laughter, music and the clinking of crystal glasses. Waiters in starched shirts hurry along aisles lined with booths of exquisite red leather upholstery. Warm light radiates from the grand chandelier gently turning over the dining room, its myriad glass shards sparkling like diamonds. The spilled drinks wetting the carpets alone would cost an honest dock worker’s daily wage. Here, in the decadent center of Port Ffirst, is where the rich and powerful meet to rub shoulders - and where the up-and-coming birds eye the old cock’s roost…
One such bird -- or bird-folk -- wines and dines on the rarest of steaks. Odd looks stick to him like limpets, but if he cares, he doesn't show it. Can't show it. Beaks cannot move like mouths. He muses over this as he cleans the juices of the steak from his talons. What is it about folks like Mace, who can get people to like him when even Bones can tell he's shifty? Even when he is known by a name like Menace?
Or perhaps the ambiguity is the lure which the people follow. Bones is no people person, but understands presence and how to use it to his ends… usually to scare or subjugate, wear people down. But getting people to like him… to think they're agreeing with him of their own volition… he couldn't do that if he tried. 7'1, blood-red sclera, scales -- even the birdfolk back home were afeared of him.
He prefers it this way. He dyes his feathers red like poisonous insects, a warning: stay away, I'm dangerous.
It keeps him safe.
(It keeps him lonely.)
He has asked Mace here to speak upon this subject and because he is more familiar with the ambiguous than the good. He asks:
"When you were talking to the… Frog-man, I don't know what it was, trying to rally it against its leader, you had it listening, even if it was too stupid to be reasoned with. How do you do that? Getting people to even listen to you in the first place, without making yourself big and loud and scary. Not that I can do anything but."
There are so many people here. So loud. Not like the ruins or the dungeons or the caves he’s explored. He can feel their gaze burning, crawling between his feathers. He was hoping the alcohol would make this easier, but he's three wines in and not even tipsy. Just another disappointment of modern civilisation.
The Tiefling smiles into his wine glass, as if the answer was obvious, then looks up to the giant bird-man towering over him. “My dear friend Bones, it is a simple thing, when you know how to do it; the hearts of men are easily swayed. Like a ribbon in the wind, it will blow whichever way. All you have to do is see what moves them, and then present an offer; overeager, they will want to do your bidding. The presentation is then but an aide.” He takes a sip from his glass, ruby red wine swirling like fresh blood. “The frog captain was just like any other man in that respect. He wanted something, craved it, even if he was too afraid to give voice to his dream, fearing it may betray him. When you see desire writ across a face like that, it matters little if that face has a mouth, a snout, or a beak... Desire wets the appetite of all tongues.”
He cocks his head and eyes the great bird-man up, and nods appreciatively.
“You have done very well on this excursion into the swamp, and you were equally impressive in Sigil. I would be honoured to advise you on the… finer points of the sentient condition, shall we say? I daresay, you are a great friend to have.”
"You featherless folk, with all your mouth movements, you are impossible to read. You all bare your teeth, like a snarling animal, to show you are not a threat. I do not know your wants… Nor you mine. How," Bones sighs, leaning back in his chair and running his talons through his feathers, "Am I to replicate the movements of something I am not?"
Bones' eyes narrow. "You, claiming to read the desires of men… Calling me a friend so easily because I have talents that could be useful to you…"
Bones leans over the table towards Menace, slightly raised on his seat so as to always maintain their difference in height. "Sitting, waiting, watching for weakness… an ambush predator, but you pounce on desires to exploit. Do you call those useful to you friends so you can keep them close, watch them, wait for an opportunity to strike?"
Menace smiles, then thinks better of it and offers his open palms in a gesture he hopes to be understood as disarming.
“So you do read people after all. We are not so different, you and I. We all have motives that drive us. The more you know about someone, the better you can understand their needs and wants. Some created by circumstance, some by design. I must confess, I feel ever so slightly flattered that you would think of me as a predator, this coming from a powerful creature such as you.” he says, looking up at Bones - their two feet difference in height could as well have been two meters.
“But no, I do not prey on my friends. The risk would be far too great, and so much more can be gained from cooperation built on mutual understanding, and trust, in the long term. I am but a small businessman - but together with you, we can do great things! You may be big and powerful, but as you said, there are things I am more adept with. I can help you when your own talents fail you. And I never betray my friends.”
Not breaking eye-contact, he raises his hand in the air and executes a series of gestures. Moments later, a white-liveried waiter comes up, more boy than man, carefully balancing on a tray two delicate crystal glasses - one filled with a spirit of a luscious red hue, the other blue as summer sky.
“Now this is what the Hook is famous for! Cocktails creatively mixed from the best and rarest of Faerun’s nectar, wines and spirits. Would you care to choose?”
Bones fluffs up a little when he is called big and powerful; whether this is because he is prideful or bothered by those comments is unclear. He keeps position for a few moments, scrutinising Menace and then looking curiously at the drinks, before he sits back down. "As you could probably predict, the red one…" Bones says, "...Please. And I was not so much reading you as relating your actions to the laws of nature. You should know, also, that I have talents beyond being a powerful pyromancer… though feel free to flatter as much as you seem inclined to."
Menace shrugs at that, gently pushing the red drink toward Bones and reaching for the blue drink in turn.
“I have met many people across the years, and learnt that no one is above flattery. It is a nicety that costs me nothing but the effort, yet is always appreciated by the recipient. But I did notice in Sigil that you have an interest in obscura, do you not? That speaks of a keen mind to identify and assess such rare finds. What in particular draws your interest? And would you tell me of these other talents? Curious people are so rare and fascinating.“
Bones isn't quite sure how to react to being buttered up this transparently; people aren't usually this nice to him unless they're intimidated by him. Or want something. And in this case, he supposes what Mace wants is an ally. Or a friend. Same thing.
"I… well, since my bloodline was scarred by the flame, I became curious about the arcane arts. They would not have allowed me to study it where I was from, but I found myself… in the company of naught but myself, the flame, and a veritable hoard of artifacts and relics, underground, for a very long time. It was cold, dark, so mastering the flame was a necessity. I learned to survive on my own, and much of the historical and arcane… and I had already refined my pyromancy to a decent degree by the time I started adventuring with the likes of you."
Bones blinks, then furrows something similar to a brow, taking a sip of his drink. "Adventurers, I mean. S… Sorry," he says, saying the word slowly as though reading it from a dictionary for the first time. "Anyway. It was… isolating. A lot of things were. I suppose that is another reason I was asking for your advice. With people."
Menace nods, appreciating the bird-man’s struggle.
“I know a thing or two myself about loneliness. I did not enjoy it, and that is why I surround myself with people. That has its challenges, but I have learned that you are safer in a crowd than on your own…” his eyes briefly glass over, as if recalling a memory, before snapping back.
“So how about this, we continue to work together for the time being, and you can observe how I handle people, work my magic, pull their strings. Maybe this will make it easier for you as well? What do you say?” He raises his glass, the blue liquor half drained, swirling like an azure storm, “to friends?”
Bones tilts his head when he sees Mace's faraway look, but does not pry. He is curious, but… maybe another time, over more drinks. He raises his glass, the stem pinched between two talons, tiny and already empty, and clinks it quietly against Menace's. "Amenable. To… Friends."
.
--
The Flourished Hook is abuzz with the sounds of laughter, music and the clinking of crystal glasses. Waiters in starched shirts hurry along aisles lined with booths of exquisite red leather upholstery. Warm light radiates from the grand chandelier gently turning over the dining room, its myriad glass shards sparkling like diamonds. The spilled drinks wetting the carpets alone would cost an honest dock worker’s daily wage. Here, in the decadent center of Port Ffirst, is where the rich and powerful meet to rub shoulders - and where the up-and-coming birds eye the old cock’s roost…
One such bird -- or bird-folk -- wines and dines on the rarest of steaks. Odd looks stick to him like limpets, but if he cares, he doesn't show it. Can't show it. Beaks cannot move like mouths. He muses over this as he cleans the juices of the steak from his talons. What is it about folks like Mace, who can get people to like him when even Bones can tell he's shifty? Even when he is known by a name like Menace?
Or perhaps the ambiguity is the lure which the people follow. Bones is no people person, but understands presence and how to use it to his ends… usually to scare or subjugate, wear people down. But getting people to like him… to think they're agreeing with him of their own volition… he couldn't do that if he tried. 7'1, blood-red sclera, scales -- even the birdfolk back home were afeared of him.
He prefers it this way. He dyes his feathers red like poisonous insects, a warning: stay away, I'm dangerous.
It keeps him safe.
(It keeps him lonely.)
He has asked Mace here to speak upon this subject and because he is more familiar with the ambiguous than the good. He asks:
"When you were talking to the… Frog-man, I don't know what it was, trying to rally it against its leader, you had it listening, even if it was too stupid to be reasoned with. How do you do that? Getting people to even listen to you in the first place, without making yourself big and loud and scary. Not that I can do anything but."
There are so many people here. So loud. Not like the ruins or the dungeons or the caves he’s explored. He can feel their gaze burning, crawling between his feathers. He was hoping the alcohol would make this easier, but he's three wines in and not even tipsy. Just another disappointment of modern civilisation.
The Tiefling smiles into his wine glass, as if the answer was obvious, then looks up to the giant bird-man towering over him. “My dear friend Bones, it is a simple thing, when you know how to do it; the hearts of men are easily swayed. Like a ribbon in the wind, it will blow whichever way. All you have to do is see what moves them, and then present an offer; overeager, they will want to do your bidding. The presentation is then but an aide.” He takes a sip from his glass, ruby red wine swirling like fresh blood. “The frog captain was just like any other man in that respect. He wanted something, craved it, even if he was too afraid to give voice to his dream, fearing it may betray him. When you see desire writ across a face like that, it matters little if that face has a mouth, a snout, or a beak... Desire wets the appetite of all tongues.”
He cocks his head and eyes the great bird-man up, and nods appreciatively.
“You have done very well on this excursion into the swamp, and you were equally impressive in Sigil. I would be honoured to advise you on the… finer points of the sentient condition, shall we say? I daresay, you are a great friend to have.”
"You featherless folk, with all your mouth movements, you are impossible to read. You all bare your teeth, like a snarling animal, to show you are not a threat. I do not know your wants… Nor you mine. How," Bones sighs, leaning back in his chair and running his talons through his feathers, "Am I to replicate the movements of something I am not?"
Bones' eyes narrow. "You, claiming to read the desires of men… Calling me a friend so easily because I have talents that could be useful to you…"
Bones leans over the table towards Menace, slightly raised on his seat so as to always maintain their difference in height. "Sitting, waiting, watching for weakness… an ambush predator, but you pounce on desires to exploit. Do you call those useful to you friends so you can keep them close, watch them, wait for an opportunity to strike?"
Menace smiles, then thinks better of it and offers his open palms in a gesture he hopes to be understood as disarming.
“So you do read people after all. We are not so different, you and I. We all have motives that drive us. The more you know about someone, the better you can understand their needs and wants. Some created by circumstance, some by design. I must confess, I feel ever so slightly flattered that you would think of me as a predator, this coming from a powerful creature such as you.” he says, looking up at Bones - their two feet difference in height could as well have been two meters.
“But no, I do not prey on my friends. The risk would be far too great, and so much more can be gained from cooperation built on mutual understanding, and trust, in the long term. I am but a small businessman - but together with you, we can do great things! You may be big and powerful, but as you said, there are things I am more adept with. I can help you when your own talents fail you. And I never betray my friends.”
Not breaking eye-contact, he raises his hand in the air and executes a series of gestures. Moments later, a white-liveried waiter comes up, more boy than man, carefully balancing on a tray two delicate crystal glasses - one filled with a spirit of a luscious red hue, the other blue as summer sky.
“Now this is what the Hook is famous for! Cocktails creatively mixed from the best and rarest of Faerun’s nectar, wines and spirits. Would you care to choose?”
Bones fluffs up a little when he is called big and powerful; whether this is because he is prideful or bothered by those comments is unclear. He keeps position for a few moments, scrutinising Menace and then looking curiously at the drinks, before he sits back down. "As you could probably predict, the red one…" Bones says, "...Please. And I was not so much reading you as relating your actions to the laws of nature. You should know, also, that I have talents beyond being a powerful pyromancer… though feel free to flatter as much as you seem inclined to."
Menace shrugs at that, gently pushing the red drink toward Bones and reaching for the blue drink in turn.
“I have met many people across the years, and learnt that no one is above flattery. It is a nicety that costs me nothing but the effort, yet is always appreciated by the recipient. But I did notice in Sigil that you have an interest in obscura, do you not? That speaks of a keen mind to identify and assess such rare finds. What in particular draws your interest? And would you tell me of these other talents? Curious people are so rare and fascinating.“
Bones isn't quite sure how to react to being buttered up this transparently; people aren't usually this nice to him unless they're intimidated by him. Or want something. And in this case, he supposes what Mace wants is an ally. Or a friend. Same thing.
"I… well, since my bloodline was scarred by the flame, I became curious about the arcane arts. They would not have allowed me to study it where I was from, but I found myself… in the company of naught but myself, the flame, and a veritable hoard of artifacts and relics, underground, for a very long time. It was cold, dark, so mastering the flame was a necessity. I learned to survive on my own, and much of the historical and arcane… and I had already refined my pyromancy to a decent degree by the time I started adventuring with the likes of you."
Bones blinks, then furrows something similar to a brow, taking a sip of his drink. "Adventurers, I mean. S… Sorry," he says, saying the word slowly as though reading it from a dictionary for the first time. "Anyway. It was… isolating. A lot of things were. I suppose that is another reason I was asking for your advice. With people."
Menace nods, appreciating the bird-man’s struggle.
“I know a thing or two myself about loneliness. I did not enjoy it, and that is why I surround myself with people. That has its challenges, but I have learned that you are safer in a crowd than on your own…” his eyes briefly glass over, as if recalling a memory, before snapping back.
“So how about this, we continue to work together for the time being, and you can observe how I handle people, work my magic, pull their strings. Maybe this will make it easier for you as well? What do you say?” He raises his glass, the blue liquor half drained, swirling like an azure storm, “to friends?”
Bones tilts his head when he sees Mace's faraway look, but does not pry. He is curious, but… maybe another time, over more drinks. He raises his glass, the stem pinched between two talons, tiny and already empty, and clinks it quietly against Menace's. "Amenable. To… Friends."