What is Dead May Never Die 10/12

LONG DISTANCE TO: Trik Gutterrunner}: Greetings Mister Gutterrunner. We've words to have. Ya see, good ol' Tono unintentionally offered me a golden kernel'a knowledge upon their return. About a mad scientist tha' blended the barrier between life an' death, an' the horrifiyin' atrocities he was like to commit. Needless'ta say, I want in. My dead god cares nothin' for the boundaries of life and death, an' I figure a resume like that, you've at least gained my interest. Come to the south coast of Siren Beach, I'll be waitin for a chat. Be subtle if ya can, ain' want ya dyin' 'fore we can chat. And before you question it, this is the pen scratch of Captain Maertock Reave, lord high reaver of the Deep Company. I'll see ya real soon like.
[19:51] And like all things, Trik simply acted on bad ideas.

A random message from a leader of a notorious pirate group? What was the worst that could happen? Without much further ado or fanfare, the aged Razuka had set off on a trek across Esshar.

He still knew the old pathways, avoiding the ever vigilant eyes of the Moxtli and Osrona, slipping from forest to beach until he found the mentioned location. A mighty ship off in the distance, a shadowy figure on the beach. All prime indicators Trik was where he needed to be.

A waddling Razuka crossed the sands, taking a seat by the palm trees. Achy were his bones and horribly alone, he was.

"Well, Trik assume-hope is right place. Captain-Lord of Fish-Pirates, yes-yes?"
(Trik Gutterrunner)
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 Maertock would appear to cut an imposing presence leaned up against the great palm of Siren Beach, seven feet of robust sinew in a coat of inky, sifting shadows that appeared to regular manifest blinking, black eyes that dissipated as soon as they arrived. An aura of immense occultism resonated about the captain's being, though it wasn't at all like that of helheimic influence.

His dark was deep, colder, more absent of light or reason. His was the darkness of the abyssal depths.

"Mister Gutterrunner, timely aren't we? I'm quite the fan; I've heard rumors of your work. Of dark things, horrid experimentation. I want to know what's a rumor, and what you can really do."

The captain of the deep company would extend a claw of inky shadows to the old rat, the giant sharkman dissipating into shadows as with quick passage they were suddenly in the captain's quarters.

A man of good taste, a tall cup of Valmasian Brandy would be poured for Trik before another was poured from the same bottle for Maertock, a thick plate of twiced salted jerky in fish oil laid down for the Rakuza and the captain as he raised his glass in cheers.

"I know Moxtli wants you dead. I know Tono was terrified of you. But I'm not Moxtli. Tell me your story, old rat. Show me why you inspire fear in them."
(Maertock Reave)
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By stark contrast, Trik seemed to be about four and a half feet tall at his hunched stature. By all accounts, he seemed like a rat past his prime, just some geezer waddling about the lands.

So, why did everyone want him dead?

There was a chuckle at the notion of Tono being terrified of him. He supposed it was only natural with what he subjected the youth to. Perhaps that is why Moxtli really hated him? It was hard to say beyond what D'Noxa told him.

Trik took a seat at the table, poking at the salted jerky. It wasn't that he found it disgusting... just that he didn't trust it. There were many poisons in the lands, and he employed a few of them himself.

"Seems all have heard-heard of Trik Gutterrunner. Trik remember in past-time when Trik was unknown grunt... Just bandit-mugger working for Family-kin."

A pause as he held the jerky close, sniffing it before setting it down. What did he do to inspire fear? A pity he lacked useable bodies here, he could show them.

"Beast-tribes... disagree on Trik magic-powers. Find it... unnatural-horrifying. Trik think just a bunch of whiny-crying babies. Is all key-critical to Trik dream-vision. But why do man-things reek of fear-musk around Trik?

Because Trik have shown truth-fact of flesh-meats... Much like steel-metal, can be shape-molded, made to fit desired purpose. Granted, Trik can also make corpse-meat dance-dance...

Is why Tono-thing so scared-feared. Dance-dance with Trik abomination-creations."

A nibble upon the salted jerky before he pulled out his usual meal.

A chunk of blue mercury ore.
(Trik Gutterrunner)
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 The sirenian wakes up and looks around the room at the source of the two voices that disturbed his slumber. A ratman and his brother were engaged in conversation, it seemed.

He had overslept.

A naked Murtock rises with no sense of modest, fingers languorously scratch at his buttocks once he rose from the bed preceding a long stretch and yawn.

"Mornin', brother." He called to Maertock, a nod offered toward the unfamiliar fellow. Then he began to dress meticulously and headed out the door.
(Murtock Reave)
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Maertock Reave says, "Stay Murtock."
 Maertock Reave says, "WE have a real guest."
 Murtock Reave asks, "Aye?"
 Maertock Reave says, "Aye. Take a seat, pour a drink."
 Maertock would munch away at his own jerky messily with splatters of blood, grease, and bone as he gnashed at the protein, the carnivorous sharkman nothing if not an efficient user of his time. Drinking steadily from his bottle of Valmasian Brandy, an old vintage of necromantic import, the captain of the Deep Company would click his rows of serrated teeth together with excitement.

"A man with a reputation is a man worth knowing, that's how the saying goes Mister Gutterrunner. It's a common thing in our trade, it's necessary to exude influence and inspire fear as a reaver upon the high seas. Doubly so as devotees of the deep, for whom are god lies dead with beating heart waiting to awaken once more from his foul slumber."

The captain would nod steadily at that, taking a slow drag from his minty cigar as streams of smoke rose from his dry, red gills with a nod to Murtock's awakening. Good timing in truth for the Captain and First Mate to discuss the talent before them.

"There is nothing wrong with a good bit of unnatural and horrifying, I daresay. Terror means more tribute, as the saying goes. But, you're going to need to emphasize further."

Maertock's piercing blue, shark's glance would flick to Murtock for a time with a nod, before returning once more to Trik with a sip of his drink.

"By making flesh work like a machine....like a frigate of Barsburg….you're telling me you've acquire the power to bring things back from the dead?"
(Maertock Reave)
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And then there was another. Trik's hand instinctively went for one of his many daggers but there was no overt movement of hostility. Perhaps he was just getting old, or perhaps he just did not see the point in being brought out here, only to be attacked in close quarters.

A nod towards the newcomer and then a glance back to the behemoth of a Siren. He could understand the need for a good reputation. Then again, sometimes the lack of one also worked in his favor. Perhaps he was a bit too overt in his art, maybe he should have kept it confined to the sewers.

But it mattered not now.

There was a hint of amusement at him sitting here, going forth with something he mentioned, and recent word of another's plans. As if Trik had remained absolutely correct in his assumption as usual, but that was a detail to gloat over another day.

Maertock's question made the Razuka pause for a moment, looking at the salted jerky before him before he gnawed upon his usual rock. The grinding of teeth against stone, sharpening the wicked things.

"Yes-yes. What made Shaman-thing so upset-mad. Trik was wandering near mines with creation-horrors, all dead man-things given purpose. Trik can reuse corpse-meats... Limited right now-now, only mindless husks but Trik can make the dead walk-walk."

Another nibble upon the jerky itself, gnawing at the tough meat.

"Trik use of... Necroratcy is extension of blood magic-spells. Can shape-mold living flesh but also make dead-dead flesh as tool-weapon. And now whole surface-world wants to kill-kill Trik. Pah… stupid-foolish man-things.

Could show-teach many things."
(Trik Gutterrunner)
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 Murtock acknowledge the summons of the captain and settled into a chair next to Trik with a groan emitted from both the unfortunate piece of furniture that had to bear his weight and his just waking self.

His attention remained firmly upon the ratman, but his expression was alien and unreadable to most. Just tiny black eyes watching the old rat with nothing apparent in his gaze.

This went on for a long moment as the two spoke before finally the First Mate's deep voice rolled out once more, "Yer head's worth 'bout thirty-thousand wit' th'tribes." He announce before reaching for one of the pieces of jerky at the center of the table.

"That's a lotta money." He continued before popping the meat in his mouth swallowing it nigh instantly. Oddly there was no immediate act of aggression, no attempt to claim said bounty.

"So why ain't we takin' it?' He asked, his attention shifting between the two present. "Figure y'brought gifts or somethin'."
(Murtock Reave)
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 Murtock acknowledge the summons of the captain and settled into a chair next to Trik with a groan emitted from both the unfortunate piece of furniture that had to bear his weight and his just waking self.

His attention remained firmly upon the ratman, but his expression was alien and unreadable to most. Just tiny black eyes watching the old rat with nothing apparent in his gaze.

This went on for a long moment as the two spoke before finally the First Mate's deep voice rolled out once more, "Yer head's worth 'bout thirty-thousand wit' th'tribes." He announce before reaching for one of the pieces of jerky at the center of the table.

"That's a lotta money." He continued before popping the meat in his mouth swallowing it nigh instantly. Oddly there was no immediate act of aggression, no attempt to claim said bounty.

"So why ain't we takin' it?" He asked, his attention shifting between the two present. "Figure y'brought gifts or somethin'." (Fixed)
(Murtock Reave)
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 Maertock would take a thoughtful drag from his cigar as he munched away at his jerky, washing it down with more Valmasian brandy as he flashed a serrated grin to Trik. Though it was true he had a hefty bounty on his head; and a true bastard could turn him in casually for easy money after arranging a fake meeting...

The captain of the Deep Company understood, the knowledge Trik had to offer was far more valuable than any gold. It was the stepping stones they required to stir their god at last.

"My brother speaks true. It would be incredibly profitable to turn you in. But Mister Gutterrunner, I serve a dead god that lies pinned to the ocean's lowest depths by a trident, and I mean to wake them at last."

Maertock would nod slowly.

"So here's my bargain. Your necroratcy? You will instruct myself and my brother in the depths of its operation and potential. Teach us all you know of waking that which slumbers in death."

The captain would click his serrated teeth firmly, turning to Murtock with a slow nod.

"And seek out foul places that only a rat as yourself would seek out to find horrid things. And we will join you on these ventures for a cut of the riches in exchange. This will remain subtle, Moxtli need not know of it."

A pirate was a pirate after all.

"Murtock, I think this is the key. If we can understand this art, then together we might yet wake he who does not stir."
(Maertock Reave)
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Thirty thousand gold coins for his head? There was a certain part of Trik's ego that thoroughly enjoyed knowing he was that much. Most ransoms and bounties only went to ten thousand. It seems they really did want him dead. Was it for his past crimes alone? Or what he represented?

Trik still squinted at Murtock, gnawing on his jerky. He wasn't keen on someone casually bringing up how much he was worth, of course. It meant that they debated capturing the aged Razuka himself. Still, ambition like that was useful, it just had to be properly tempered.

But to gain a potent ally in his efforts? And support for whatever dark venture he sought? That was worth far more to Trik than gold itself. It was a path to power. A cackle at the terms laid forth, enlarged claws reaching up to stroke the wispy beard hairs upon his chin.

"Trik always happy to teach-show Necroratcy. Trik can also understand grand dream-goal... Fish-pirates want toawaken-summon diety-god... Trik want to turn surface-world into Razuka-kin.

Yes-yes, will be most agreeable-acceptable. Even have idea-thought for newest project-experiment. Need to make another growth-vat like Trik did for Seven-spawn... But this time, more focus on using Necroratcy powers, not just-just flesh shape-molding."

A pause as he looked between the hulking figures.

"Trik think Fish-Pirates would like Seven-spawn. Trik greatest-best creation. Made from Trik and Anira-wife blood, grew in vat, yes-yes. Just needs more power-might.

And of course, Trik not say-speak anything of meeting to Achyon-city. Not trust stupid-fool Council anymore, keep disregarding-ignoring Trik. However... other student-learners will likely know-hear of Trik… newest student-apprentices."
(Trik Gutterrunner)
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Murtock silently helped himself to more of the rations as he listened to the Razuka's speech. All the pieces were falling together and there was something that could be done to insure it was all for the better.

Though a brute outwardly he had a keen mind for shady deals, unsavory business, and results. "Alrigh', so learnin' yer sorcery do be an appealin' prospect." He admitted with a slow nod toward the man.

"But, we ain't got reason t'trust yer word. Ain't nothin' like blood an' sin t'bond folk t'gether." After all, it had worked for the crew plenty of times. It was why he and Maertock were close aside from the blood of Gol that flowed through them.

It was why they did not squabble over their respective claims to royalty. Two cities, two kings.

"We got a contract by someone t'kill Neoni." He added after letting his words hang in the air for a moment, "Jus' so happens t'be thirty thousand coins. I reckon y'help us kill 'em, we split th'money." Even shares, even sins.

"Th'city'd be too disturbed an' th'folk gunnin' fer Achyon would be rearrangin'. Someone we can control'd be th'one callin' th'shots an' they be real amicable t'me."
(Murtock Reave)
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Maertock would lean back in his chair as his broad shoulders clicked lightly, his cloak of inky, living shadows ambiently fluctuating as countless, black glossed eyes appeared to open and close in contemplation. Mister Gutterrunner had become a suddenly far more valuable ally than he'd realized.

Oh yeah, it was all coming together.

"Yes, I believe that between my brother and I; if the both of us learn this dark art, we will be able to do the work that needs to be done in the depths. It'd be a powerful asset for any crew, and I've never been one to care much for other's moral sensibilities."

The captain of the Deep Company would nod steadily at that. Retaining subtlety was key, but in the end; Maertock wasn't afraid of anything. What was dead can never die.

"A regime shift would be an easy way to take the heat off of Achyon; would make it easier for a powerful ally to offer us some weapons technology in the right place. Now, were we to become friendly, I'd see no reason why my crew wouldn't want you to be the one in power in the city'a cogs."

Maertock's serrated grin would spread ear to ear, great white's piercing blue eyes flicking between the pair as he sipped his Valmasian brandy.

"Now, if we had shiny guns, I don't see why we'd let our neighbors destroy a city run by a friendly neighbor. What'ya say Trik, you wanna be on top?"
(Maertock Reave)
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Trik on top? Well, he had to start somewhere. Osrona was so far away from him now. A distant goal for him to seize. No longer could he linger in the sewers, enjoying the safety of his old nooks and niches. Instead, they were long burned out holes, where he had to destroy valuable research.

But power, at the price of killing a Synth he felt no true affinity for? Granted, Neoni wasn't the true power in that place. Someone chosen to run the military since most seemed to lack the drive to deal with the grunts. Still, these kinds of deals?

Trik understood and loved them. All dangerous plots to bring him power. He'd either be successful or die and ruin a lot of plans.

"Trik understand, yes-yes. Though, not likely one to rule-run Achyon-city. Truth-fact... Trik not care-care for Achyon-city. No good sewer-city. Trik want-want Osrona-city back... But detail-issue for later.

Trik could help-help collect bounty-reward on Neoni-synth. Docro-Don might not be happy-thrilled but getting... ack... gah… new ally-friends better than STUPID-FOOL ROBOT-THING THAT GET WITCH-THINGS TO REVEAL SELFS AND RUIN STUFF.

FUCK-FUCK, TRIK KNEW THAT WOULD HAPPEN."

They underestimated D'Noxa's will and went with the strangest plot he had ever heard. While he might have found it amusing initially, the fact their best bet was to try to force dreams to sway minds?

Trik just pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

"Trik can try-try to get gear-weapons for Company-Deep. No promise-assurances yet... Tech-Mage not too... keen-happy about Trik. Think-think dragging into Trik experiment-tests not good for psyche."
(Trik Gutterrunner)
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 It seemed to be misunderstood, but for the better. Trik likely would not be the one, but the one who had made the contract in the first place or another woman in the city.

Still, it was not a far shot off to say they make decide to put him in charge all things considered, "Aye, well thar be a new order comin' t'Osrona in due time." Though some might argue it was not his place to speak on the matter.. Everything was his place and domain so far as he was concerned.

"Th'Grimmore'll be reclaimin' it an' I think they'll be good wit' what we're tryin' t'do 'ere. Prolly gonna need it if we plan t'retake th'city in th'future." All the allies of the heir to the Shimmering City would be repaid, "An' I'm sure he'd remember ya if ya were part o' th'folk that helped 'em do it."

It was unclear how he felt about the witches, potentially friendly, and the matter of the Docro did not matter, "Th'Don can go 'feck 'imself. Me Uncle an' all me little cousins runnin' 'round playin' gangster can jus' shove off. Save fer th'witches. Ain't none o' them 'bout any sort o' business. Even Ryker be a weak piece o' shite."

The outburst had been amusing, at least. Even still mirth did not reach him until the mention of weapons, "An' Freda Von Bohm migh' be willin' t'let our woes be in th'past wit' Neoni outta th'way."
(Murtock Reave)
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 Maertock would snort with light amusement as he took a long, thoughtful drag from his cigar, the captain of the Deep Company nothing if not the contemplative sort when it came to such circumstances. It came with the grounds of being a black hearted rogue.

"You're old enough to play the long game, ya dig Mister Trik? When ya don't like someone, you take their coin an' scheme in a corner until they have a bad day. Them's the breaks when it comes to takin' jobs as a pirate. As easy to be on top of one pillar as another."

The shadowy, inky aura of pulsating darkness around Maertock's form appeared to vibrantly stir at that. The chaotic impulse of usurping one regime after another just for the sake of it tickled the reaver pink. It was exactly the kind of life he wanted to live.

"If it's you on top an' the mobsters as muscle, business will be real steady like, ya dig? Real simple. Crime pays, or it wouldn' be criminal. Long as the spice an' coin flows, it don' real matter who dies long as no one's morals get to twisted in a bundle."

An exhale of smoke, the captain would bark out with malevolent cheer as he imagined all the fun that could be had.

"Tween Murtock's charms on the tech lady an' our business sense, I think we could make this all work out profitable. We learn the dark arts we need for our pursuits, an' all of us get rich."
(Maertock Reave)
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 The Grimmores. A part of Trik wanted to just leave on principle. There was something about most Razuka and their feelings on the nobility of Esshar that always drove them into a frenzy.

After all, it was largely the machinations of the sewer-dwelling ratkin that crippled the Petrakis line.

But Trik was not his youthful self. No, he was a much older, more patient and far less wise rat. Grimmores in charge of Osrona would give them a new flag to rally around, to bring the errant factions beneath Trik's necromantic banner.

"Trik… agree-accept. Small detail-issues to iron out later, yes-yes. Trik only have... old bond-favor towards Family-Docro. Walter-lord was... good-good leader. Very nice-kind to Razuka-kin.

Also, terrifying."

There was a shift as the Razuka rose from his seat, bones aching and cracking. it was time for him to find a hole to crawl in and sleep.

"Will try to think-think on how to lure Neoni-synth out. One that won't implicate-reveal Trik as responsible. Worst-worst case, Trik just find new hole to hide-hide in. But...

Good-good talk. Long time that Trik could... discuss with like-minded. Will be happy to show-reveal secrets of Necroratcy. Maybe show-show Seven-spawn next. Will start-start with... basic-simple stuff."
(Trik Gutterrunner)
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 Maertock would nod slowly as he hummed in contemplation over the deals on the table, the Captain clearly content with the discussions that had been laid forth and the potential for future meetings when the lessons would begin. At the end of the day, that was what enticed the reaver more than anything.

Knowledge of the dark arts was a pirate's best friend, he reckoned. The only way that made sense at the end of the day. He would not falter in his pursuits to achieve all that he could with his mastery of shadows and darkness; it seemed only natural that necroratcy would fall on his plate at some point.

"Yes, the benefit about long term plans is that issues are very easy to work out progressively. In the meantime, we have an understanding, and our lessons will begin as soon is as convenient. In this vein, we will all grow more powerful in the pursuit of our ambitions."

The captain of the Deep Company was not the face for no purpose. He had an ability to get people to work together for a purpose, foul or otherwise, better than most when it came down to it.

"Keep in touch, gather information, we'll discuss all such discoveries at our next lesson. For now my friend, Mister Trik, I think we have a deal. The deep watches under us."
(Maertock Reave)