(Cross-posted in Spit and Scales.)
Ta-tap, tap, tap.
The rhythmic knock rang out, echoing from the door of Barrister Lucien Mallorek's townhouse off of the Marketplace. Its simple, clipped nonchalance signified the informal turn that the Scathachian's and the Barrister's relationship had taken. Lucien and Isuelt had known each other for a number of years and had been through a few sticky situations together. What was more, Isuelt trusted Lucien as more than her attorney, but as a friend.
The Judge looked over her shoulder to see her fellow Sisters, Valkyrie and Mirage. She planned on formally introducing the two women to the barrister as what they were: her seconds, for all intensive purposes. After the meeting at the Scathachian Sanctuary, Isuelt and her Sisters had shared some very private and indeed some very vulnerable information with their most trusted allies. As the small group that was gathered began to aide the Sisters in their quests for their missing relics, she was hoping that a few more of their friends would also be able to help them. But first, was the trip to Lucien's home. Lucien Mallorek, Barrister Extraordinaire. Lucien Mallorek, collector of antiquities. Any information (or actual relics) he might have would be an auspicious start.
"Barrister Mallorek is an old friend, and I'm almost sure that he can help us," as Isuelt looked up at the facade of the entrance way to the townhouse, her vision flashed a series of scenes before her eyes in almost lightning quick succession: A dark rain-soaked night, thunder shattering her ears, undead fingers clawing at her clothing, pulsing red lights glowing from under a shut door, the screams of her friends, allies and enemies all around her. She ran a gloved hand quickly over her face and knocked once more, almost with an urgency. Lucien's home had become the beckon that night, and while the Scathachians and all of their allies entered his home, Lucien was nowhere to be found. And then everything had gone black. Isuelt's memory had lost what happened just after they were running through this very house, searching for the barrister.
Tap, tap-tap, tap-tap.
She took a deep breath as she worked to shove that night from her fuzzy memory, she turned to look to her Sisters once more as she heard footsteps on the other side of the door.
Ta-tap, tap, tap.
The rhythmic knock rang out, echoing from the door of Barrister Lucien Mallorek's townhouse off of the Marketplace. Its simple, clipped nonchalance signified the informal turn that the Scathachian's and the Barrister's relationship had taken. Lucien and Isuelt had known each other for a number of years and had been through a few sticky situations together. What was more, Isuelt trusted Lucien as more than her attorney, but as a friend.
The Judge looked over her shoulder to see her fellow Sisters, Valkyrie and Mirage. She planned on formally introducing the two women to the barrister as what they were: her seconds, for all intensive purposes. After the meeting at the Scathachian Sanctuary, Isuelt and her Sisters had shared some very private and indeed some very vulnerable information with their most trusted allies. As the small group that was gathered began to aide the Sisters in their quests for their missing relics, she was hoping that a few more of their friends would also be able to help them. But first, was the trip to Lucien's home. Lucien Mallorek, Barrister Extraordinaire. Lucien Mallorek, collector of antiquities. Any information (or actual relics) he might have would be an auspicious start.
"Barrister Mallorek is an old friend, and I'm almost sure that he can help us," as Isuelt looked up at the facade of the entrance way to the townhouse, her vision flashed a series of scenes before her eyes in almost lightning quick succession: A dark rain-soaked night, thunder shattering her ears, undead fingers clawing at her clothing, pulsing red lights glowing from under a shut door, the screams of her friends, allies and enemies all around her. She ran a gloved hand quickly over her face and knocked once more, almost with an urgency. Lucien's home had become the beckon that night, and while the Scathachians and all of their allies entered his home, Lucien was nowhere to be found. And then everything had gone black. Isuelt's memory had lost what happened just after they were running through this very house, searching for the barrister.
Tap, tap-tap, tap-tap.
She took a deep breath as she worked to shove that night from her fuzzy memory, she turned to look to her Sisters once more as she heard footsteps on the other side of the door.