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46th Zi'da 717
There was a way things worked in the shadows of Etzos.
Just because everyone knew the Black Guard were corrupt pieces of corrupt so corrupt they corrupted everything they corrupted like a corrupt chicken laying a set of nice, oval batch of corrupted eggs that hatched into corrupted chicks didn’t mean every so-called officer of the law wanting to make a quick buck on the side could brandish their means of illicit side income willy nilly. There were unspoken rules, necessary precautions, a brand of street etiquette that often trailed into its own set of needless complexities and, above all else, a kind of discretion that meant whoever would mind wouldn’t see, and whoever wouldn’t mind wouldn’t see either. Just in case.
Out of sight was, as far as the civilized world was concerned, very much out of mind.
Out of all these unspoken rules and laws of the street, Zipper held one particular rule above all else for her own sanity: bring a fuckin’ referral.
It was a little professional gesture that so few seemed to understand. Nobody was looking for a character witness speaking to their good nature in the grim and the murk, but they did needed to know a guy who knew a guy, one that would attest to both competence and a certain kind of ‘integrity’. She didn’t take walk-ins, she didn't take unknown parties on her own terms, and she didn’t take upstarts with no credit to their name or their deeds.
In short, she didn’t take amateurs and, by extension, fools.
One Divinya, a necromancer, in particular proved to be both. She was very persistent in pushing forward. Claiming to be filling in for dear Marrow, a long-time client and hedge necromancer and, even if she would never say it out loud, an even longer time friend, on their usual transactions, she had offered no proof, no proper resume, no backing, no anything that suggested that she was anything more than yet another hedge mage who had slipped through the state’s paws and would soon be dragged into the fold. She had even considered reporting her just for her insolence - but that was a line she wouldn’t cross for a varied number of reasons. Reasons that were in part the pragmatism of not being known as a snitch to other clients with an illegal mage or two on the side, long-simmering spite at her self-appointed masters, and, for lack of a better word, principle.
Divinya had barged in on another transaction with all the finesse of a bull, claimed that she hadn’t been delivering on the product in the last 2 seasons, and basically threatened her with some nebulous sounding boss.
The Ether Missile warning shot was well-earned.
Little fanfare on that end was had for awhile… until said nebulous sounding boss came calling. And lo and behold, she did know him.
“Hey bird,” Zipper said, sitting on one end of the table in the Red Roof Inn. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Bird?” Noth raised an eye at the expression. “The usual, I’m afraid. Business.”
“Of which we have none at the moment,” Zipper said, gesturing towards the seat opposite to the self-styled Prince of Eternal Mercies. “Or so I was led to believe.”
He tsked, taking a seat, armor clanking as he sat. “Ah, and that is our primary issue. Where is our business, Zipper?”
“When a strange woman comes into your place of business, claims to have taken over all responsibilities for your prior client, and refuses to disclose anything or offer proof of inherited responsibilities, can you blame a girl for a big, fat no to her face?”
“She’s a necromancer.”
“Barely.” Zipper whispered under her breath. Whispered very loudly.
“You know how they are.”
“Secretive, distrusting, kinda grimey, ever ready to throw around insinuations that you’re the next piece in their collection.” Zipper said with a small, exasperated smile. “But I liked the last one a lot better. Where be Marrow, Prince? Where be the prized necromancer?”
“He’s been notably absent for some time. I know not his whereabouts. He abandoned his… beings, however.”
There was a way things worked in the shadows of Etzos.
Just because everyone knew the Black Guard were corrupt pieces of corrupt so corrupt they corrupted everything they corrupted like a corrupt chicken laying a set of nice, oval batch of corrupted eggs that hatched into corrupted chicks didn’t mean every so-called officer of the law wanting to make a quick buck on the side could brandish their means of illicit side income willy nilly. There were unspoken rules, necessary precautions, a brand of street etiquette that often trailed into its own set of needless complexities and, above all else, a kind of discretion that meant whoever would mind wouldn’t see, and whoever wouldn’t mind wouldn’t see either. Just in case.
Out of sight was, as far as the civilized world was concerned, very much out of mind.
Out of all these unspoken rules and laws of the street, Zipper held one particular rule above all else for her own sanity: bring a fuckin’ referral.
It was a little professional gesture that so few seemed to understand. Nobody was looking for a character witness speaking to their good nature in the grim and the murk, but they did needed to know a guy who knew a guy, one that would attest to both competence and a certain kind of ‘integrity’. She didn’t take walk-ins, she didn't take unknown parties on her own terms, and she didn’t take upstarts with no credit to their name or their deeds.
In short, she didn’t take amateurs and, by extension, fools.
One Divinya, a necromancer, in particular proved to be both. She was very persistent in pushing forward. Claiming to be filling in for dear Marrow, a long-time client and hedge necromancer and, even if she would never say it out loud, an even longer time friend, on their usual transactions, she had offered no proof, no proper resume, no backing, no anything that suggested that she was anything more than yet another hedge mage who had slipped through the state’s paws and would soon be dragged into the fold. She had even considered reporting her just for her insolence - but that was a line she wouldn’t cross for a varied number of reasons. Reasons that were in part the pragmatism of not being known as a snitch to other clients with an illegal mage or two on the side, long-simmering spite at her self-appointed masters, and, for lack of a better word, principle.
Divinya had barged in on another transaction with all the finesse of a bull, claimed that she hadn’t been delivering on the product in the last 2 seasons, and basically threatened her with some nebulous sounding boss.
The Ether Missile warning shot was well-earned.
Little fanfare on that end was had for awhile… until said nebulous sounding boss came calling. And lo and behold, she did know him.
“Hey bird,” Zipper said, sitting on one end of the table in the Red Roof Inn. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Bird?” Noth raised an eye at the expression. “The usual, I’m afraid. Business.”
“Of which we have none at the moment,” Zipper said, gesturing towards the seat opposite to the self-styled Prince of Eternal Mercies. “Or so I was led to believe.”
He tsked, taking a seat, armor clanking as he sat. “Ah, and that is our primary issue. Where is our business, Zipper?”
“When a strange woman comes into your place of business, claims to have taken over all responsibilities for your prior client, and refuses to disclose anything or offer proof of inherited responsibilities, can you blame a girl for a big, fat no to her face?”
“She’s a necromancer.”
“Barely.” Zipper whispered under her breath. Whispered very loudly.
“You know how they are.”
“Secretive, distrusting, kinda grimey, ever ready to throw around insinuations that you’re the next piece in their collection.” Zipper said with a small, exasperated smile. “But I liked the last one a lot better. Where be Marrow, Prince? Where be the prized necromancer?”
“He’s been notably absent for some time. I know not his whereabouts. He abandoned his… beings, however.”
Boxcode credit: Yolande
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