"Aine and Zena Wood O'Conner, have been given a mission, should they choose to accept it," whispered Aine loudly as the train pulled to a stop in Drakborough Station.
"The Mission Impossible: to find Marc, of the Streampaw Clan, a job and a home in the city where once he dare not set foot," said Zena in the same whisper. She and Aine got up form their seats across from Marc and stood beside the door as if a mad bomber just might be on the other side. They both hummed the Spy Music to the James Bond Movies as they secured the entrance then once they were sure no bombers lurked on the platform, allowed Marc to walk out. Aine lead the procession while Zena got Marc's back. They spy humming got louder as they entered the city limits.
While it was true that Grand Miranda and Aunt Ashlee had asked them to keep Marc safe while he tried to find a place to stay nearer to Drakborough, both Aine and Zena knew they likely didn't mean like this. It sure was lucky the sixty-five year old twins hadn't asked what manner they were meant to protect Marc in, now wasn't it?
Post by Marc Streampaw on Dec 2, 2009 22:58:01 GMT -5
Marc didn't dare laugh. He got his leather satchel and walked between them quietly. Only last week had he received a letter form the town asking for not only his return but offering him a chance to tell his story to officials there. Chance of a lifetime, no? Grand Miranda and Miss Ashlee had made some inquiries and found that the letter was indeed genuine and that the town had firmly threw off the mantle, not only of the BFC but seemingly of lawlessness as well. Could Marc go see for himself? The answer had been yes, if he let someone come with him.
The Twins had immediately jumped at the chance to accompany him - quiet literally they'd jumped up and down saying things like "Pick us, pleeeeeeease, we went to Potter's School of Auror Training and we've never got to try it out!" No amount of explaining from Miss Ashlee and Grand Miranda seemed to convince the twins this wasn't the dangerous and difficult mission they took it to be - or pretend to take it to be.
They'd walked past the Coffee shop (the twins had protected Marc from the Fresh Hot Coffee sign) and past Jokers Bar (the twins protected Marc from the evil temptations within by not letting him see the door as they passed.) They were now passing a Broom Shop. Didn't a friend of Miss Ashelle's run it?
"That looks like a nice place to work." said Marc, his voice stronger and a little deeper than when Ashelle last saw him. "I wonder if they are Hiring."
Indeed, Navara, the proprietor of the broom shop was feeling just a little overwhelmed these days. He had a lot of things to handle now.
First of all, He'd landed a major contract with the Spanish National Team. He was providing all of their brooms and equipment and his brooms were all handmade with many hours of care, concern and craftsmanship. He was getting good compensation for his labors, though you couldn't tell it to look at him. He was still running around in the same jeans and tees he wore before he landed the contract, although when he had business meetings with the team, he always made sure his hair was combed, and that he was wearing clean clothes with no holes in them, just as Auntie Freya always insisted.
Secondly, with all the exposure his brooms were getting from the contract, his store was becoming quite popular. To tell the truth, Nav had more money than he knew what to do with. He insisted he take care of his aunt's bills, and their were several charities he'd donated to, but mostly, his money sat around in Gringotts, collecting dust.
So, it was no small wonder, what with the crowed shop, and plenty of custom orders to fill, that Navara had placed a small, neat 'Help Wanted-Inquire Within' sign in his shop's window.
At the moment, Navara was inside, organizing a new display of team sweaters, perfect for the impending winter. Not to mention he had to restock the scarves. The crowd had nearly cleared him out yesterday. He didn't have any of the silvery ones with the moving snitch pattern left.
Aine and Zena didn't have to be asked twice to stop at a Broom shop.
"I wonder if they have a new Snitch in stock," said Aine curiously.
"Yeah," agreed Zena, "because our old one is so bloody slow you'd think it was the same one they used back in Aunt Ashlee's day." "Yeah, and it kinda makes your hands smell when you catch it." said Aine. "Yeah" "Yeah" The both let out sighs of frustration at smelly Seeker hands. Then both spotted the sign at the same time.
"Marc! It's your lucky day!" said Aine "Primp yourself the way Ashelle taught you then go in and ask for the job!" encouraged Zena. Marc seemed to hesitate. The twins gave each other a look and marched him into the shop.
"This is Marc Streampaw," announced Aine happily "and he was wondering if you are hiring." said Zena in the same grand voice. Then they both stood back to let Marc finish the job - of getting a job.
Post by Marc Streampaw on Dec 2, 2009 23:48:57 GMT -5
Marc studied the sign for a moment. Wait a sec, if this was Miss Ashelle's friend, surely he would want her to work- but Marc had no time to think of what Miss Ashelle friend's intent truly was with the sign for the Wood-O;Conner twins marched him right up to the front desk and stated his business for him, then retreated, making little 'go on' hand motions at him from the safety of a Quidditch magazine rack.
"Erm, hello," said Marc straightening his fine winter O'Conner robes. "I am actually looking for a job. Have you anything that doesn't involve much magic? I am dreadfully poor at it, but I am a hard worker. I can cook, count money both wizard and British Muggle and I am learning American Muggle as well. Also I like to arrange things. I used to work in a jewelery shop in Diagon Alley, erm, have you heard of Je'anne's Jewels?"
Marc stopped and blushed slightly, though with his walk in the cold air it was undetected with the blush already on his cheeks. He waited for an answer to his questions patiently.
"Good morning! Welcome to the Sanctuary!" Navara's voice rang out in friendly greeting as he heard the door to his shop open and close. Once he was satisfied that he was at a good stopping point, he turned, to find some crazy people pushing a semi-familiar face toward him.
"Marc, is that you? Ash told me you'd gone to visit the O'Conners. I'm glad to see you." Once he realized what Marc was asking, he broke into a wide grin, his brilliant white teeth contrasting nicely with his dark skin. "Of course you can have a job here! I was actually looking for someone to mind the shop while I handled the custom orders. If you can run a till and restock shelves, you're hired."
He cast a look at the two behind Marc. "I take it you're O'Conners? Nice to meet you, my name is Navara." He stuck out a hand to shake. "Actually, we may have met already, that one Christmas Ashelle brought me home with her, but I doubt it. I'd like to think I'd remember anyone as interesting as you two."
All you had to do was print a sports team’s name on something and you could sell it for five times the price it would have otherwise been worth. Though he had a minor interest in a few Quidditch teams, he felt that it was a bit excessive to buy undergarments with your favorite players faces printed across them as a show of support for your team. Unfortunately, he was evidently one of the exceptions rather than the rule. Still, with this idea of marketing, it would be highly unlikely if the owner of this show wasn’t very well-off. Especially since business in Drakborough as a whole had been picking up lately. Likely, this would be due to the large gap in time since the town had last been attacked, torched, or otherwise blown up.
Alas, for Edmund had only a small amount of money at present, so he probably wouldn’t be buying anything today. Still, he enjoyed browsing through shops to see what he could potentially be buying, if he had more money than he knew how to spend responsibly. For the moment, he was content with flipping idly through a magazine full of different advertisements for various types of racing brooms.
One of the inserts, however, was a flyer. Put out by the Black Forest Church, it was a brief public statement listing a few of the creatures wanted by the church for one reason or another. Glancing up for a brief moment, he was somewhat surprised to see the same face across that store that he had just seen glaring at him from the picture in his hand.
Edmund had a greater purpose in coming to Drakborough, but he just couldn’t resist stirring up a little bit of trouble. “Umm, hey! Heeeeey! Right here!” he called from across the store, trying to get the attention of the boy and the store owner, causing quite a few other heads in the store to turn to pay attention to this scene. Edmund made a show of pointing at Marc before continuing. “Aren’t you a fugitive? On the run from the law or something? One of Fenrir’s friends or whatever?”
Post by Marc Streampaw on Dec 3, 2009 15:34:18 GMT -5
Marc's back was to the man, and towards Mr. Navara who'd just gave him a job. Marc took a deep breath. The letter said he wouldn't be persecuted here so long as he upheld the laws of the town, right? Suddenely Marc's eyes flew open wide and began to water. That smell . . . That man's smell was not Muggle or Wizard or anything good. It made Marc want to sneeze just to get it out of his poor nose. This was no ordinary being making this accusation. For the safety of his friends Aine and Zena -however- he must act like he thought so, to make sure he didn't upset the creature, what ever he was.
Marc forced his face to smile and turned toward his accuser with Triad dignity. "My dear sir," he began, "I am afraid you may have mistaken me for someone else. I have never broken any laws that I am aware of. As for knowing a Fenrir, I believe I have read about such a character in Beowulf or other early works of fiction, but to say I have met someone of such renown would surely not speak well of my abilities to keep reality and fantasy separate, wouldn't you agree?" Marc smiled again then snuck a look at Aine and Zena, who, still out of site from the man, winked and gave him the thumbs up sign.
What he had just done was called 'manipulating the conversation' according to Miss Ashlee. It was the art of redirection, it wasn't a lie at all, but simply a very clever way of changing the subject, while seeming to still address the questions directed at you. Marc had been practicing for quiet a while now, but this was the first time he'd had to do it on the fly. He hopped it would be sufficient. Who knew, the Magical Creature before him might be interested in early fiction. From his smell he might have met Fenrir of Beowulf legend himself!
Aine and Zena would have jumped to Marc's defense, however it was at that moment he turned around and displayed the Triad ideal so beautifully, it might have brought them to tears had they not been Vicki's kids. Never-the-less once he'd finished speaking Both Aine and Zena came and stood by him. They moved at a measured pace to be sure no one else in the store would think they took the accusations any worse than Marc did.
However when they turned and saw the man making them it was all they could do not to rush Marc out of the store. The man speaking didn't look safe, the feeling his magic gave out was not safe, the glint in his eyes was the furthest from safe they'd ever seen. Perhaps they didn't know who he was but they would have had to have flunked Potter's Auror School to not have realized they were in danger. Perhaps Marc's strategy of not angering him was a good one.
"We would appreciate it, sir, if you could please use a less accusatory method of introduction," said Aine clasping her hands together. She had tendency to tremble when she wanted to reach for her wand badly enough.
"Yes," agreed Zena, who for the same reasons had put her hands in her robe pockets. "If you would like to make friends, it is usually a good policy to get to know someone first before asking what someone's past might be, especially if such questions might not flattering to their reputation." They smiled genuinely at him, to be sure he didn't think they were trying to be rude.
How a vampire was walking around Drakborough in the morning, Nav had no idea. Not that he really knew what or who this gentleman was, only that he meant to cause a scene. Marc seemed to handle himself well, which was good. If he were to work here, there would always be those that insisted on starting trouble. He let Marc finish, and even smiled a small smile at the comments from the O'Conners.
"Sir, Mayor Mustang has said that anyone who behaves lawfully is welcome in Drakborough. I'd like to follow his example. All are welcome in my shop as long as they behave with honor and decorum, and this young man exemplifies those virtues very well. Now, is there anything else I can assist you with?" A white eyebrow arched up the dark forehead of the shopkeeper.
"Beowulf, eh? So now we're talking about stories? Very well, I have a good one for you." Edmund said, calmly closing the magazine setting it down after removing the public statement, which he stuck in his pocket.
"So, once upon a time, I went to Germany. I found an older gentleman and asked him if he had ever been a Hitler youth back in the day. His response was 'What?!?! Who is this 'Hitler' you speak of?! I know of no such name! You must be confused or something. Oh wait, doesn't that, according to etymology, mean 'wolf'? Perhaps I should, uhhhhhh, help you find the nearest local pet shop! Yeah, that's what I should do!'."
Hoping to see understanding dawn in people's faces in the parallels between his own story and Marc's, he let his completely fictional tale hang for a few moments before he went on. "You see, Fenrir is known far and wide across both Spain and England and likely further than that. If you had just gone 'bugger off weirdo', you would have looked much less suspicious than you do now, when you very obviously feign ignorance on a matter that should be common knowledge. Unfortunately, now you seem to be acting like one who has something to hide. You claim to not have broken any laws that you know of, which may very well be true. Yet, ignorance of the law does not make you exempt from it. I think you should be honest with me instead of trying and failing miserably to cover for yourself. You'll only embarrass yourself and your friends if you persist in such a manner."
"They often said that Scorpius was an honorable foe." Edmund replied flatly to the shopkeeper. "Are you saying you would welcome someone who murders children and senselessly destroys anything that gets in his way into your shop so long as they gave a bow before killing you? Mustang may be open-minded in his ideas of acceptance, yet I doubt they extend to known criminals.."
Post by Miles Landon on Dec 6, 2009 5:01:43 GMT -5
"Well. We'll have to see about that, eh?"
The door to the shop opened and the thud of heavy bootsteps permeating the tense atmosphere of the shop. Miles Landon, head of the newly minted Special Cases department of Drakborough stood in the doorway. He was wearing faded jeans and a simple black t-shirt; a shoulder holster peeked out from under his grandfather's RAF jacket. The gun was a Glock 9mm, standard issue. But strapped to his leg, under the jeans, was A .38 Chief's Special loaded with silver bullets. This was a 'just in case' weapon; he hated having it anywhere near him in the first place.
Pinned to the front of his jacket was a silver badge, reading:
-DRAKBOROUGH- -SPECIAL CASES- -000-1-
He surveyed the room with piercing blue eyes, the best indicator of what kind of man--what kind of lycan--he was. He kept the color he was born with, telling everyone in that room he had never killed a human. Not for food and not as an effect of giving into the primal side of the wolf anyways. Otherwise they would be an animal yellow, or worse, black. He briefly flashed on his old enemy's eyes. The hate. The rage. He shook it off.
He gave a sidelong glance at the vampire. The strange one. Even with enhanced senses, he couldn't quite put his finger on this guy. He smelled like a vamp, but not really. Miles vaguely recalled meeting this being when he was being framed for a number of murders. (Miles was being framed that is.) He had caught his scent earlier and followed it to this shop. And here he was stirring up some trouble. And Miles, bastion of justice that he was, felt the need to protect this kid from whatever the hell this guy was.
"You know, I don't think I ever caught your name, those couple of months back. What are you up to here, pal? Why are you hassling the kid? He's just a boy. Tell me, what was his crime?"
Post by Marc Streampaw on Dec 6, 2009 17:22:48 GMT -5
Marc was taken aback. Fenrir was known all the way in England! But The O'Conner's had seemed surprised when he'd told them about him, they were Irish, but still, they knew or knew of everyone. As the strange, scary man drew nearer, Marc inadvertently drew back till he bumped against the counter. This would never do, he couldn't look cowardly in front of Miss Aine and Miss Zena! Marc drew himself to his highest height (which still wasn't that tall) and attempted to make the man go away.
"See here, sir," he began, "You asked if I was a friend of Fenrir, not if I knew of him. I know well there is a wood near here that they've named after a beast named Fenrir. What I have heard of Spain's Fenrir, I do not approve of, so no, I am not his friend. Also it is no business of yours if I do or do not owe debts to society. Causing trouble is not my game, but I am much mistaken if it isn't yours. Please leave me out of whatever mischief you are planning, and go pick on someone else."
Why did eating a farmers sheep have to bring all this misery? Marc had no money, but at this point he was willing to work off any price. He didn't even care anymore if it was what the sheep was worth, he didn't care that he himself hadn't killed the thing, he just wanted this nightmare to end, and not with his hide tacked to someones wall.
Post by Mayu Shiikawa on Dec 6, 2009 17:28:07 GMT -5
Mayu walked into the store, and looked about. She had been asked to find a few articles of clothing by her sister, who was rather big into a certain Quidditch team. She had left her sister behind at her room, so it was only natural that she had the money. Of course, when she arrived, there were a few people who seemed a little standoff-ish. It was rather inconvenient for these people to be in here while she was shopping. Maybe she could help. Certainly, there had to be a nice, peaceful solution.
"Umm... Excuse me, kind sirs, but is there something I can help with?"
She pulled her wand out of her pocket with her right hand, but left it at her side. Hopefully she wouldn't have to use it.
"You should be careful. It looks like a fight might break out, here," Yuma, who had entered the store with Mayu, added.
Mayu nodded, and pointed the index finger of her empty right hand at Edmund.
"You, first. Care to help me understand this? Oh, right. One at a time, please. I can't listen to everyone at once, after all." DERP!
As Marc backed up Aine and Zena drew closer to him, blocking the way of the man, should he try to hurt Marc, but not in the way if he decided to leave peaceably. Then they heard Marc reply and couldn't help smiling a bit. That had been genius on Marc's part and not even 'for a lycan'. Both twins were sure that not even certain members of the Traid would have found that loophole in the Man's words.
"Mr., seriously, leave our friend alone." said Aine abandoning all pretenses. "He hasn't done anything to you or yours, and this is no place for a duel anyway, this is a place of business!"
"Indeed," said Zena, "Please let us be," then she noticed out of the corner of her eye that some sort of police man had just arrived. "I would highly advise against causing a scene. Marc here has an appointment with the Mayor today, and we have been charged with making sure he gets there, and returns with us unharmed."
Teagan Offline: This board is full of nostalgia.
Aug 22, 2020 8:39:09 GMT -5
Missing the old MH: gotta say missing when MH and all that was around.
Nov 6, 2019 0:02:30 GMT -5
Willow_lazy: why tf are there 400 posts about adidas
Sept 6, 2018 17:35:57 GMT -5
Azrael: I'm not hard to find, since I'm the only one there who goes by "Azzy", I'm pretty sure. XD
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:41 GMT -5
Azrael: Dunno if anyone still pops by here from time to time, but if any of you mofos do and still feel like gettin' yo nerd on, I've been hanging around this here place a bunch recently: www.roleplayerguild.com/
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:10 GMT -5
Azrael: hold onto your pantaloons
Jul 25, 2016 5:16:43 GMT -5