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- #41
Re: Nope (SirOni) (GMed by GargantuaBlarg)
Magnetic-Alloy Coil, 20 denarii
Tempered Glass Tubes, 35 denarii
Check back tomorrow
Both the Mongrels and the Starlings had told her she could requisition denarii to put forward to the completion of their gadgets, so it was unlikely to be difficult to get the money for them. Of course, if she couldn't... well, Taylor wasn't the only one that took payment in souls and sex. The metalsmith was also a succubus - a woman (or at least, woman-shaped - pretty hard to tell with demons sometimes), though her figure was hard to discern due to the heavy leather apron she wore as she worked, despite her race's natural tolerance of heat. Even her face was usually obscured with some sort of protective mask, with a darkened visor for her eyes. What could be discerned was that she had charcoal-black skin, muscular arms, a long, muscular tail, and reverse-jointed and rather monstrously clawed feet. The glassblower was a little goblin man - scrawny, with blue eyes and slightly-longish red hair that he usually kept in a ponytail, who had occasionally ordered work from Angie before. Besides the practical bottles, window paning, beakers, lenses, phials and other such things he carried, he seemed to also make and sell a few fancy baubles in his shop - artful glass sculptures of birds and squirrels and other mundane critters you could find anywhere... along and less innocent sculptures of various naked men and women. While he might not be able to sustain himself on her soul's energy, it was a rare demon who'd pass on an offer of sex - at least, so went the stereotypes. Perhaps she could even model for his sculptures?
At any rate, it was a matter for later. Angie packed up her bag and headed off - quite prepared for her little rendezvous later on.
---
Both Benny and Clyde were still at their posts - the big demon still standing with his arms crossed and looking intimidating, while Benny continued to yammer in his general direction. Upon noticing her arrival, the loud demon did a doubletake when he realized that it was Angie walking up in a crisp, tailored suit. "'Ey, dol- whoah-hoh! Ey, you clean up pretty nice, babe!" Benny said, recoiling with shock. "...Heheh. Get it?" He chuckled off-handedly, the scrawny demon jabbing the goliath next to him with an elbow as he waved his hands over his face, clearly making a remark about Angela's lack of the soiling of her trade. The beefy demon responded merely by squeezing his eyes shut for a second.
"Well eh, you're pretty early, but dat ain't no big deal - I can probably go see m'friend 'bout dem feathers a' yas' now instead a' later! Arright - jes' cover fer me 'till I get back, yeah? 'bout two hours to... to eh, broker my 'deal'." The demon gave a little cough.
While the big one rolled his eyes as Benny continued to try to uphold his charade of having some important business to attend to (Who knew? He was so bad at concealing it, maybe he did have some sort of shady business deal going down? He didn't seem smart enough to pull of a double-bluff like that... but then, wasn't that how double-bluffs worked?), Benny turned and trotted off. Before he got too far, the mountain of a demon called after him, checking that he had 'his potion'. Benny patted himself down before pulling out a vial of red liquid and returning a thumbs up, and disappeared down the street.
Surprisingly, the shift did pass by relatively peacefully - a few drunks or deadbeats ejected, assholes turned away with little conflict, nothing especially major happening. There was a tense moment when a few demon women came up - each outfitted in fine clothing, but all incorporating something roughly the same color as Angela's eyes, and each with at least one gun of one sort or another, on their backs or in their belts. Angela could feel dislike between the big bodyguard and the little clique of women - but the moment eventually passed without incident, Clyde letting them through into the gambling parlor. "Damn Starlings," he grumbled after they'd passed.
Taylor appeared shortly after that, holding a purse and wearing her same dress, but having put her mint hair into a long braid, through which was laced a red ribbon. She fluttered her fingers at the mechanic as she walked by... and when she was close, quickly lifted the hem of her skirt to flash Angela with her continued lack of any form of underwear, and giggled to herself as she went in to gamble and drink.
People went in and went out, and though there were a great deal of demons of all manner of appearance and bearing, there were also not a few of the other races - a tall elven man with a pair of Su-Ku-Ta women clinging to his arms, a tanned, fellow human (also in a suit), who bore a half-cocked smile and was handsome despite his age-silvered hair, and an orcish man who looked far more bookish than orc might have, with massive spectacles, standing out to the mechanic's eyes.
Eventually, Benny came back, right around when the sun was about to vanish beyond the horizon... looking pretty awful. For one, his bony physique was exposed - his shirt and jacket were draped over his arm. Probably due to his chest bearing long and slightly bloody scratches from his collarbone all the way down to his waist. There was a little burn mark on his left nipple, he had a black eye and a lump swelling out of the top of his head, more bruises covering his torso and arms, and his red neck had a shiny purple ring around it. He was also limping, which was probably caused by the solid expanse of purple bruising that was visible above his belt and pants waistline. At the same time, though, there were also lighter patches of pink all over him... which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be kiss-mark lipstick prints.
"What the hell, man?" Clyde shouted at him as he approached. "What happened to your health potion?"
"Oh, dat? She smashed me ova da head wit' it." Benny leaned forward, presenting them with his head-lump, the surrounding hair having a few shards of glass in it. "Can I bum a match, man?" He asked, pulling a cigarette whose end had been blackened, but didn't look to have actually been smoked out of his jacket's front pocket. "She ehh... well." He brushed off his blackened nipple.
He leaned against a wall while his compatriot fished out a match and a spare healing potion for him (after indulging himself with a facepalm for a few moments). Once he'd lit up, he let the potion work it's magic, fixing his myriad pains while he enjoyed a few puffs, muttering something about 'good times'. "Oh yeah," he said when he was halfway through his smoke, before wandering over to Angela. "My buddy said there's a guy who's been lookin' ta sell a few angel feathers 'round the market district. He's a pretty shady lookin' guy, but a few guys what bought from 'em say his stuff seems legit. Big dude wit' a purple cloak, got some kinda weird accent n' keeps babblin' 'bout high prices and askin' ya what ya wanna buy." He took another puff, continuing. "'E also said somethin' 'bout a real, live one, in some village outside da city. Not too far, maybe three, four miles, eh? Could maybe eh, 'convince' da lady to part wit' a few of 'em, you know? 'Course... where dere's an' angel, dere's prob'ly trouble, too."
Angie Winchester
Hit Points (HP): 40/48
Pleasure to Orgasm (PP): 38
Spirit Energy (EP): 55/66
Status: Not too shabby.
Hit Points (HP): 40/48
Pleasure to Orgasm (PP): 38
Spirit Energy (EP): 55/66
Status: Not too shabby.
Magnetic-Alloy Coil, 20 denarii
Tempered Glass Tubes, 35 denarii
Check back tomorrow
Both the Mongrels and the Starlings had told her she could requisition denarii to put forward to the completion of their gadgets, so it was unlikely to be difficult to get the money for them. Of course, if she couldn't... well, Taylor wasn't the only one that took payment in souls and sex. The metalsmith was also a succubus - a woman (or at least, woman-shaped - pretty hard to tell with demons sometimes), though her figure was hard to discern due to the heavy leather apron she wore as she worked, despite her race's natural tolerance of heat. Even her face was usually obscured with some sort of protective mask, with a darkened visor for her eyes. What could be discerned was that she had charcoal-black skin, muscular arms, a long, muscular tail, and reverse-jointed and rather monstrously clawed feet. The glassblower was a little goblin man - scrawny, with blue eyes and slightly-longish red hair that he usually kept in a ponytail, who had occasionally ordered work from Angie before. Besides the practical bottles, window paning, beakers, lenses, phials and other such things he carried, he seemed to also make and sell a few fancy baubles in his shop - artful glass sculptures of birds and squirrels and other mundane critters you could find anywhere... along and less innocent sculptures of various naked men and women. While he might not be able to sustain himself on her soul's energy, it was a rare demon who'd pass on an offer of sex - at least, so went the stereotypes. Perhaps she could even model for his sculptures?
At any rate, it was a matter for later. Angie packed up her bag and headed off - quite prepared for her little rendezvous later on.
---
Both Benny and Clyde were still at their posts - the big demon still standing with his arms crossed and looking intimidating, while Benny continued to yammer in his general direction. Upon noticing her arrival, the loud demon did a doubletake when he realized that it was Angie walking up in a crisp, tailored suit. "'Ey, dol- whoah-hoh! Ey, you clean up pretty nice, babe!" Benny said, recoiling with shock. "...Heheh. Get it?" He chuckled off-handedly, the scrawny demon jabbing the goliath next to him with an elbow as he waved his hands over his face, clearly making a remark about Angela's lack of the soiling of her trade. The beefy demon responded merely by squeezing his eyes shut for a second.
"Well eh, you're pretty early, but dat ain't no big deal - I can probably go see m'friend 'bout dem feathers a' yas' now instead a' later! Arright - jes' cover fer me 'till I get back, yeah? 'bout two hours to... to eh, broker my 'deal'." The demon gave a little cough.
While the big one rolled his eyes as Benny continued to try to uphold his charade of having some important business to attend to (Who knew? He was so bad at concealing it, maybe he did have some sort of shady business deal going down? He didn't seem smart enough to pull of a double-bluff like that... but then, wasn't that how double-bluffs worked?), Benny turned and trotted off. Before he got too far, the mountain of a demon called after him, checking that he had 'his potion'. Benny patted himself down before pulling out a vial of red liquid and returning a thumbs up, and disappeared down the street.
Surprisingly, the shift did pass by relatively peacefully - a few drunks or deadbeats ejected, assholes turned away with little conflict, nothing especially major happening. There was a tense moment when a few demon women came up - each outfitted in fine clothing, but all incorporating something roughly the same color as Angela's eyes, and each with at least one gun of one sort or another, on their backs or in their belts. Angela could feel dislike between the big bodyguard and the little clique of women - but the moment eventually passed without incident, Clyde letting them through into the gambling parlor. "Damn Starlings," he grumbled after they'd passed.
Taylor appeared shortly after that, holding a purse and wearing her same dress, but having put her mint hair into a long braid, through which was laced a red ribbon. She fluttered her fingers at the mechanic as she walked by... and when she was close, quickly lifted the hem of her skirt to flash Angela with her continued lack of any form of underwear, and giggled to herself as she went in to gamble and drink.
People went in and went out, and though there were a great deal of demons of all manner of appearance and bearing, there were also not a few of the other races - a tall elven man with a pair of Su-Ku-Ta women clinging to his arms, a tanned, fellow human (also in a suit), who bore a half-cocked smile and was handsome despite his age-silvered hair, and an orcish man who looked far more bookish than orc might have, with massive spectacles, standing out to the mechanic's eyes.
Eventually, Benny came back, right around when the sun was about to vanish beyond the horizon... looking pretty awful. For one, his bony physique was exposed - his shirt and jacket were draped over his arm. Probably due to his chest bearing long and slightly bloody scratches from his collarbone all the way down to his waist. There was a little burn mark on his left nipple, he had a black eye and a lump swelling out of the top of his head, more bruises covering his torso and arms, and his red neck had a shiny purple ring around it. He was also limping, which was probably caused by the solid expanse of purple bruising that was visible above his belt and pants waistline. At the same time, though, there were also lighter patches of pink all over him... which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be kiss-mark lipstick prints.
"What the hell, man?" Clyde shouted at him as he approached. "What happened to your health potion?"
"Oh, dat? She smashed me ova da head wit' it." Benny leaned forward, presenting them with his head-lump, the surrounding hair having a few shards of glass in it. "Can I bum a match, man?" He asked, pulling a cigarette whose end had been blackened, but didn't look to have actually been smoked out of his jacket's front pocket. "She ehh... well." He brushed off his blackened nipple.
He leaned against a wall while his compatriot fished out a match and a spare healing potion for him (after indulging himself with a facepalm for a few moments). Once he'd lit up, he let the potion work it's magic, fixing his myriad pains while he enjoyed a few puffs, muttering something about 'good times'. "Oh yeah," he said when he was halfway through his smoke, before wandering over to Angela. "My buddy said there's a guy who's been lookin' ta sell a few angel feathers 'round the market district. He's a pretty shady lookin' guy, but a few guys what bought from 'em say his stuff seems legit. Big dude wit' a purple cloak, got some kinda weird accent n' keeps babblin' 'bout high prices and askin' ya what ya wanna buy." He took another puff, continuing. "'E also said somethin' 'bout a real, live one, in some village outside da city. Not too far, maybe three, four miles, eh? Could maybe eh, 'convince' da lady to part wit' a few of 'em, you know? 'Course... where dere's an' angel, dere's prob'ly trouble, too."
,"