Roleplaying
2004 Archive
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Seminars
| When: | 17 October 2004 |
| Who: | Bronwen, Tyrr |
| What: | Plans in the works make for happy Michaelites. |
Back Room - Fado's
Tucked back along the far half of the second floor of Fado's lies an oversized break room, decorated in what can only be described as a highly stylized hunting lodge, complete with rich birch and pine parquet pattern inlaid on the floor. A large hand axe, its grip wrapped in deep brown leather, hangs on a plaque above doorway in such a way that it can be easily unmounted for actual use. A few sturdy tables provided by the best of urban outfitters feature gnarled oak legs and frames, and between their forest green cushioned seats and the trio of black suede couches on the far wall, provide room for about two dozen people. The few modern amenities include a sink for washing up and a kitchentte, along with a six foot wide plasma flatscreen television. Trophies from ethereal spirits, ornamentation with traditional clothing, and even a decapitated gorgon's head line the wood panelled walls, with the gilt and lapis inlaid flail and shepard's crook of Osiris as a feature centerpiece.
Right now, Tyrr's laying on one of the couches with a book in his hand. If you walk in quietly, he's likely to have filtered out any outside noise as he focuses on reading, making it easy to sneak up on him some right now. The book, Eisenhower's Memoirs.
Bronwen slips her key into the lock and opens the door, all fairly soundlessly out of long-time habit. After spotting Tyrr stretched out on the couch she makes her way towards him and drops down into a nearby chair. "So, how's it going?" she asks as she plunks her booted feet on a short table.
Tyrr's slight start is enough to show that Bronwen's presence wasn't detected beforehand. Almost loosing the grip on his book, he closes it up and pushes himself up on the couch, keeping his legs laying straight across the rest of it. "Go scriosa cúnna ifrinn thú!" (Which in Gaelic translates to the May the hounds of hell destroy you!) "What the hell did I tell you about sneaking up on me like that Bronwen." Tyrr's slightly annoyed apparently, but given the two go through this a lot, it quickly passes.
"Ha!" Bronwen laughs. "I'll take some with me when I go, and take a few more when I return with a new vessel. You should be used to my habits by now, old friend. Or is your age starting to affect your corporeal form's senses?"
Tyrr sets the book down on the table and turns his legs off the couch to stand. "Harhar. No." His words are short, but no malice sit in them as he sits fully upright. Leaning slightly to his left, Tyrr's hand goes to a box under the end-table next to the couch and pulls it out and sets it on his lap; the box no bigger than a shoe box but made of lead and with a heavy lock. "It's good you've stopped by though. We've got a few things to discuss."
Bronwen raises an eyebrow at the metal box. "I figured it was time to visit since we're both in the same neighbourhood again," she replies. "Thanks for the key, by the way. What did you want to talk about?"
"As you know, as we're both now assigned to Austin... as well as a few other friends of mine, that Michael isn't happy about this 'truce' some of our fellows have with the Demons in this city." Tyrr opens the box, and removes something. Something that /shouldn't/ have fit into it, not by far. But then, that's because of the inherent nature of the four foot long handle and massive battle axe at the end of it. "Michael, for some /unknown/ reason," and as he says this you can tell he's joking because he's enjoying doing this, "wanted me to give you this for your service in the last few years; and for the service you'll be giving starting this next weekend."
Bronwen nearly purrs at the sight of the axe. "Now that is a *fine* weapon," she remarks as she drops her feet to the floor. "And with a rather interesting ability as well. Does this mean I won't be getting questions from my fellow cops about walking softly and carrying a big axe?" She shifts her gaze back to her fellow Malakim. "What's in the works for this weekend?"
"Yes, it means you'll have an easier time carrying it around. Be careful though, everytime you hide it, it costs you essence." Tyrr leans to his right and hands it over, handle first as Tyrr is careful to not touch the blade but rest it on the forearm sleeve of his jacket. "I'd suggest hiding it in your trunk under something. And only hiding it on yourself when you really think you may need it." Tyrr then smiles ever so slightly, "We're a bit tired of the Sword and others in this city having this damn truce. We're going to end it this weekend by attempting to destroy a Tether."
Bronwen continues to make pleased hmm-ing noises as she accepts the axe and moves off a few feet to a clearer area. "I'll think of something," she replies as she gives her new weapon a few swings to get the feel for it. Turning back towards the other angel, Bronwen rests the axe on a shoulder with her other hand on a cocked hip. "That will be an interesting goal. Which one, and how heavily guarded is it in comparison to our available forces?"
Tyrr's smile turns into a pleased sneer, as he envisions the strike in his head, "You've undoubtedly heard of it on the force. Tombstone Arms, over on the Eastside. My intel shows its run by a Habbalite. So, it's time to turn his own weapons against him. I've already let loose a few soldiers to scope the place out and buy some weapons."
Bronwen nods in agreement. "Yeah, I've heard of it in passing. Only partially reputable for the common stuff. Anything beyond that is touch and go," she answers. "They must be doing something right since they've still got customers."
Tyrr shrugs, "Well, legal, illegal, gangs or normal gun-tottin' hillbillies, it won't matter soon enough." Leaning back on the couch, "What I need you to do is make sure the cops are 'out of the way' for part of Saturday night. Nudge up calls elsewhere so there are none in the immediate area."
"I'll see what I can do. Maybe I'll take over the patrol of that area for the evening or something," Bronwen remarks. "Give the uniforms a change of scenery and put the word out about the neighbourhood. The guys know I can handle myself."
"Excellent." Tyrr stands up now, and moves toward the door, "I need to go run a few errands Bronwen, make sure to stop by more. We've got a lot to plan for the next few years down here in Austin. Especially establishing our own Tether."
Bronwen shifts the axe so that the head rests on the floor and clasps the handle in both hands. "We'll have to search out a suitable location for a Tether for the Warlord. It may take us a few years to find and refine such a spot," the woman comments. "If you don't mind, I think I'll hang out here until dark so I don't draw too much attention to myself walking down the street with this."
There's a wicked smile across Tyrr's face, "Oh, I don't know. Knocking out Tombstone with an epic enough fight may just do the trick..." With that, Tyrr heads out the door, "Stay as long as you like. See ya later Bronwen."
Bronwen chuckles softly. "Take care, friend," she replies.
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