Post by Creighton H. Callan on Oct 25, 2018 21:23:05 GMT -5
last edited Oct 25, 2018 21:30:22 GMT -5 by Creighton H. Callan
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Post by Kieran Gothfraidh on Oct 31, 2018 2:35:35 GMT -5
There was something about running through the streets of Pyr that Kieran enjoyed. Maybe it was the adrenaline that kept coursing through her veins. Maybe it was the speed--testing her agility in both mind and body, giving her barely any reaction time for obstacles. Maybe it was the brainwork, the kind that Kieran loved, making her rely on one-second improvisations that may or may not have actually helped.
It was definitely not because three large men were chasing her with murder in their eyes.
Pyr was fun--a word which here means "dangerous"--but it was also home to information Kieran was hired to disseminate. Information that, unfortunately, was held by a man she didn't exactly want to cross paths with. Again. Until she did, of course, hence the three men chasing her with an intent to kill.
"You ain't getting away this time, Geraldine!"
Speak of the devil.
Kieran was the slightest bit glad they didn't know her real name nor face, only the one she'd given them about a month ago: Geraldine. She had posed as a merchant lass with a scarred face who'd treated their boss--a man named Hiram--one too many drinks until his secrets spilled out like a leaked tankard. A month later and Kieran expected Hiram to have learned his lesson, but he still fell for the same old trick. It was almost laughable up until he decided to send his underlings her way.
You're better than this, she could almost hear her father scold.
Eventually, the streets got thicker and thicker with people until Kieran could barely see anything else. It was almost surprising how she could still hear the bellows of Hiram's men close behind, even in such a thick crowd. Crowd, crowd, crowd... Kieran looked around. Crowds...she could blend in. She could hide in plain sight. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight.
Disguise.
Taking a deep breath, Kieran immediately set her eyes and hands to work. She was no professional pickpocket, but one of the many things she'd learned as a street urchin was how to grab things in record time. And then eventually disguise herself using those things.
Spectacles. Hair tie. Cloak. Hat. Charcoal.
Eventually the crowd had one Geraldine short, five utterly confused and angry people, and one new ragged gentleman furtively walking towards the Scarlet Queen, trying not to show that he was running away from Hiram's men. A laugh almost escaped Kieran when said men simply passed her by with nothing but a quick glance. It wasn't going to be long before they realize they've been had, and it was also not going to be long before they enter the same brothel looking for a certain Geraldine when in truth she'd already disguised herself as a man with a thin moustache.
Kieran was going to call herself Ronan for now.
She'd been to the Scarlet Queen time and time again, being "business" partners with its proprietress Madigan Ó Broin. It was a sort of safe haven, and Kieran--Ronan--strode naturally inside the establishment and directly towards the counter, waiting until the tender approached. "Some good ol' scotch, would 'ya." An accent and a deeper voice was all it took to reasonably sound like a man--Kieran was just glad she was born with a lower voice to pull it off. As she waited for her order, Kieran took a quick look of the tavern. Men, women, drunkards, prostitutes...same old, same old--
Creighton Callan.
Well, well, things just got interesting. It didn't help that he was just a chair away from where she was sitting, slouching and seemingly in poor spirits. Kieran had heard of his return some days ago, along with the fact that he'd marched in on her tavern and scared almost all of her patrons away. On any other day she would have discussed the matter with him, but now didn't exactly seem like a good time. So, instead, she began with, "Mister Creighton Callan, fancy meetin' ya here."
It was low enough for only him to hear, and as Kieran waited for a reply (or possible lack thereof), she waved at the tender for a shot of rum to send over to the Guildmaster. "Lookin' quite glum now, aren't ya? Penny for your thoughts?" She wasn't expecting Creighton to recognize her at first glance, but that just made the mischief grow. They held each other in mutual respects, and while others would fear the Pirate King, Kieran did not.
----
OOC: Apologies for the wait! Paid with equal exposition , but mostly so this thread could have some sorta possible direction to go to.
Creighton H. Callan
It was definitely not because three large men were chasing her with murder in their eyes.
Pyr was fun--a word which here means "dangerous"--but it was also home to information Kieran was hired to disseminate. Information that, unfortunately, was held by a man she didn't exactly want to cross paths with. Again. Until she did, of course, hence the three men chasing her with an intent to kill.
"You ain't getting away this time, Geraldine!"
Speak of the devil.
Kieran was the slightest bit glad they didn't know her real name nor face, only the one she'd given them about a month ago: Geraldine. She had posed as a merchant lass with a scarred face who'd treated their boss--a man named Hiram--one too many drinks until his secrets spilled out like a leaked tankard. A month later and Kieran expected Hiram to have learned his lesson, but he still fell for the same old trick. It was almost laughable up until he decided to send his underlings her way.
You're better than this, she could almost hear her father scold.
Eventually, the streets got thicker and thicker with people until Kieran could barely see anything else. It was almost surprising how she could still hear the bellows of Hiram's men close behind, even in such a thick crowd. Crowd, crowd, crowd... Kieran looked around. Crowds...she could blend in. She could hide in plain sight. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight.
Disguise.
Taking a deep breath, Kieran immediately set her eyes and hands to work. She was no professional pickpocket, but one of the many things she'd learned as a street urchin was how to grab things in record time. And then eventually disguise herself using those things.
Spectacles. Hair tie. Cloak. Hat. Charcoal.
Eventually the crowd had one Geraldine short, five utterly confused and angry people, and one new ragged gentleman furtively walking towards the Scarlet Queen, trying not to show that he was running away from Hiram's men. A laugh almost escaped Kieran when said men simply passed her by with nothing but a quick glance. It wasn't going to be long before they realize they've been had, and it was also not going to be long before they enter the same brothel looking for a certain Geraldine when in truth she'd already disguised herself as a man with a thin moustache.
Kieran was going to call herself Ronan for now.
She'd been to the Scarlet Queen time and time again, being "business" partners with its proprietress Madigan Ó Broin. It was a sort of safe haven, and Kieran--Ronan--strode naturally inside the establishment and directly towards the counter, waiting until the tender approached. "Some good ol' scotch, would 'ya." An accent and a deeper voice was all it took to reasonably sound like a man--Kieran was just glad she was born with a lower voice to pull it off. As she waited for her order, Kieran took a quick look of the tavern. Men, women, drunkards, prostitutes...same old, same old--
Creighton Callan.
Well, well, things just got interesting. It didn't help that he was just a chair away from where she was sitting, slouching and seemingly in poor spirits. Kieran had heard of his return some days ago, along with the fact that he'd marched in on her tavern and scared almost all of her patrons away. On any other day she would have discussed the matter with him, but now didn't exactly seem like a good time. So, instead, she began with, "Mister Creighton Callan, fancy meetin' ya here."
It was low enough for only him to hear, and as Kieran waited for a reply (or possible lack thereof), she waved at the tender for a shot of rum to send over to the Guildmaster. "Lookin' quite glum now, aren't ya? Penny for your thoughts?" She wasn't expecting Creighton to recognize her at first glance, but that just made the mischief grow. They held each other in mutual respects, and while others would fear the Pirate King, Kieran did not.
----
OOC: Apologies for the wait! Paid with equal exposition , but mostly so this thread could have some sorta possible direction to go to.
Creighton H. Callan