Zexx Candell

The Madam's unruly golden irises held the eye of the fellow, a grim though amused smile entangling her glossy lips as a wry sarcastic question came forth to meet his pointed request:

"And here I hadn't supposed total trust was required in this equation. Well since you bring it up; How do you suppose I should trust you, wanderer?"

She leaned away from the bar, the palms of her hands holding her upright as with a swivel of her hips she dismounts the barstool from beside him, the full weight of her typically small stature bolstered by heels much too tall to be comfortable. She was still able to hold his gaze head on with this height advantage, a more direct tone taking place of her initial teasing one as she leans in closer, aiming for a discreet discussion:

"Ask yourself instead, what do you have to lose? All I'm asking is for a small favor from a familiar patron of mine, a simple delivery request," she gained a slight twinkle to her eye as she'd lean her elbows into the bar beside him, cocking her head whilst reviewing his facade for any kind of reaction as she probes, "If it's payment you're worried about, I'll pay a fourth of your fee upfront and the remainder upon evidence that you successfully delivered my goods to dear expectant Lady Vanburen-- Unless there's something alittle more rich in quality than plain gold youre seekin'? I'm open to negotiation."

In tow there were two finely dressed individual's with satchels in tote slung around their shoulders, their tailories of a finer quality than that of most servants, suggestive and revealing in design. To Candell this may look no different than most of the individuals of the notorious Sisters in Sin, only these two people actually wore outerwear fit for traveling. Both of them would lower their eyes and adjust their posture under Susan's stare.

"What say you, Mister Candell?"

Mentions: @captzexx @zexxcandell @eldridgecandell? which character do you want friend ;-;

The sigh that let loose from the 'hero's throat could have been a hurricane as he reached up to rub at his one good eye. Zexx Candell was no stranger to the difficult or the dangerous, which in his few meetings with the madam both of these were the normal for her and her 'Sisters'. He's heard a lot of people ending up in ditches, jail, or the bottom of the canals when they crossed her the wrong way and if he knew himself he was very good at the latter. This was a rough job.

But it was a job.

To say these were lean times in the Forge was an understatement. Rumors of all kinds of Scourge activity in the far northlands with Icecrown and not to mention the pieces still needing to be sorted after the Fourth War had lead to many tightened purse strings. Sure there was still the finding, guarding, or keeping an eye on someone kind of jobs that everyone always had a need at some point for, trust was in even fewer supply than gold. And he needed the gold as he cleared his cycloptic vision to look at the shark leaning across from him.

Least the view wasn't bad.

His gaze would shift from Susan to her pair of cohorts nestled behind her dressed accordingly for the Sinners. Sparse, flash, and deceptively functional.

The horizon wasn't bad either.

Now just for the storm.

"Alright," Zexx grumbled softly, his hands already absently searching over his vest for his red pouch. "But it's a third up-front for this job. And I get to see the package and know what's in it. If it smells bad or ticks, I'm out. The last thing I need is to be blown up."

Candell would find his vice with a grumble and opened up the pouch to his hand rolled cigarettes, the yellow paper dull in the tavern candle light as he added to the ambience with Ol' Smokey with a click and flare. The gold light lit up his bearded, broad face as it flickered over the salt in his pepper and flashed against the blue of his one good eye. The shadows flicked over the matching patch over his other eye as the lines of scars and well versed wrinkles were the same story about him. Silver smoke would snake it's away out from his mouth and nose as he slipped the lighter back in his billfold.

"Tell me about this Vanburen lady of yours."

@susan-gampre

A hand stretching towards the curvier Assistant could initiate her to most hastily procure a bottle from the depths of her satchel. After handing it to Susan the woman scuttles backward. There was fabulous contrast of Susans cherry red cutting edge nails against the rich tawny liquid of an unlabeled bottle. One could mistake it for liquor, like warm and inviting whiskey.

Drustvar.

A pang struck him deep in the chest, not for the country but for the rumor of the one who wandered those hills. He had little want to run into 'him', disaster was as disaster do and the cataclysm had nothing on when Candells met. A soft sigh would blow out his nose to let loose the stream of silver smoke into the air, half forgetting the lit cigarette had been in his mouth. Calloused fingers would quickly pull it out as he tapped his ashes to a green ashtray he'd commandeered when he first came in. Tendrils of acrid vice would linger for a few moments from the stalk to the landing as Zexx saw the drink placed before him.

There was the itch.

Bars were bad for the 'hero', to say he was brave to frequent them was an understatement. It had barely been a year since his soberity began, he still had the odd iron coin for surviving these last 10 months. A priceless treasure to him after the hell he'd wrecked on himself and everyone around him for so many years. 10 months. It had been hard and ugly, but thanks to Grum and the group he was hanging in there. But it never made moments like these easier.

He lingered on that sweet brown floating ever so gently in the cool glass. It was hurting now. Aching in his stomach and lungs as he tried his best not to stare, listening to her talk about the woman in Drustvar. Rich. Powerful. Monster hunting. It didn't mean much to him at the moment as that itch was becoming more of an ache by the second.

He took a long drag. It burned. It hurt. But it was the good kind of hurt. The kind that cleared your head and brought you back to your senses. Suppose that's why this vice was never gonna leave him and likely would kill him at some point.

Not today, that was for tomorrow.

Zexx cleared his throat and did his best not to follow up with the usual spit, but swallowed it back down with a grimace to his laugh lined face. It looked out of place but he wasn't about to spit in front of the madam and her gang. Decorum he reasoned. "So you're looking for friends in high places huh? Didn't think Drustvar was rich in much more than witches, monsters, and wicker creatures."

The swordsman would tap his ash again. "Oh and of course the silver."

Silver. It was pretty and that made the richer folk all the happier for the shiny soft metal, granted he wasn't above enjoying the look of it either. A soft memory of rings came to him as he let his eye shift to the tattoo on his finger. No. Not now, he quickly thought as he eyed the madam again.

Focus.

A forced soft cackle would rumble from his chest, his face adjusting easily to the mad sound he had been known for some time at the mention of these adventures. Maybe he was a bit more famous than he thought. Definitely dumber.

"Well, I'm not above a beer run," Zexx grinned slightly to Susan as he tilted his head a bit, his slightly yellowed teeth not as awful as some would think. Still not pretty either. "You'd be surprised what ol' Billy Law in Boralus can muster when you try to infringe on their rum trade."

The butt end of the cigarette was now in his fingertips as snuffed it out in the sea glass with a soft hiss. "I take it this is a solo mission or you plan to have eyes on the merchandise?"

The woman straightened her posture, weight distributed evenly between her heels. She carried a partially solemn look before nodding to the initial lanky fellow of which whom, having read the Madam's wordlessly mouthed numeral expression, would begin to the delicate process of counting the contents of the Madam's personal pouch. Sue would fix her face before returning her harrowing stare unto Zexx.

Three days later...

Everything was going wrong.

The Positive Potato reeled to one side as the thunder of cannons ripped through the air, an all to familiar sound to the former pirate and sailor. Of course Zexx had never been in possession of a crate of whiskey that he hadn't dug all to deeply into back then. Keeping bottles unopened and unbroken was quickly becoming more trouble than it was worth. The heavy weight of the box slamming the air out of his guts was enough of a reminder as the ship keeled back and forth.

"Safe waters my ass," grumbled the one-eyed swordsman as he shifted the crate off him and to the side. Two days of fine enough travel across the waters from Stormwind to Kul Tiras with a fine enough crew at the time. Pleasant crew, pleasant weather, and pleasant enough other passengers. Few merchants, a couple of mecha-gnomes, and a little lordling with his entourage of young fops. They had been lose with their drinks, words, and purses. He should have seen it coming.

On the third morning the ship had been spotted coming straight at the Potato. Subtly was lost on youth and age got far to comfortable as the poff turned out to not be as lordly as they guessed. A coup as quick and efficient as any Bloodsail crew could be as the colors became all the clearer as the boat skimmed the waves at the large merchant vessel.

First mate took it to the gut and was pitched all the quicker over the side before the captain called for arms to be drawn. By the time organization had really gotten underway the merchant was tied up at the fore and one of the gnomes was dashed to pieces with the other pinned by two of the fops. It should have been easy to rally and drive off the small group of faux royalty.

Cannon fire had other plans as the shot ripped through the mast and burst a boatswain like an overripe plum.

Zexx was too old for this shit.

Hurrying down into the hold, the hero for hire had made for his charge to make sure it was secure before heading up to prepare for the real defense of the Potato. Of course being tackled by his luggage wasn't how he'd planned to begin a fight but with tied tight to the side with the letter tucked safety within his vest it was about time for a fight. Or what was left of it.

Storming through the bowels of the ship he caught sight of the quartermaster, a stout dwarf named Briggs as he held out a hand. No words were needed before a pistol was shoved into his hand followed by a short saber. Zexx loved dwarves, they knew just what to.

Leading up the charge he could hear a few other sailors now fully armed headed for the stairs to break out onto the deck where the fight was going south very quickly judging by the smoke, gunfire, and what appeared to be a fire at the ruins of the main mast.

"Alright you sons of-" wood exploded far to close to his head as Zexx quickly ducked down from the volley of iron balls striking around him. Skidding down his belly and along the deck as the bullets tore fresh eyes into the Potato as he came to a halt against the railing. Now wet, shot at, and definitely a bit winded he lifted the pistol to take aim.

He wished he had better depth perception as he squeezed hard.

The Madam's unruly golden irises held the eye of the fellow, a grim though amused smile entangling her glossy lips as a wry sarcastic question came forth to meet his pointed request:

"And here I hadn't supposed total trust was required in this equation. Well since you bring it up; How do you suppose I should trust you, wanderer?"

She leaned away from the bar, the palms of her hands holding her upright as with a swivel of her hips she dismounts the barstool from beside him, the full weight of her typically small stature bolstered by heels much too tall to be comfortable. She was still able to hold his gaze head on with this height advantage, a more direct tone taking place of her initial teasing one as she leans in closer, aiming for a discreet discussion:

"Ask yourself instead, what do you have to lose? All I'm asking is for a small favor from a familiar patron of mine, a simple delivery request," she gained a slight twinkle to her eye as she'd lean her elbows into the bar beside him, cocking her head whilst reviewing his facade for any kind of reaction as she probes, "If it's payment you're worried about, I'll pay a fourth of your fee upfront and the remainder upon evidence that you successfully delivered my goods to dear expectant Lady Vanburen-- Unless there's something alittle more rich in quality than plain gold youre seekin'? I'm open to negotiation."

In tow there were two finely dressed individual's with satchels in tote slung around their shoulders, their tailories of a finer quality than that of most servants, suggestive and revealing in design. To Candell this may look no different than most of the individuals of the notorious Sisters in Sin, only these two people actually wore outerwear fit for traveling. Both of them would lower their eyes and adjust their posture under Susan's stare.

"What say you, Mister Candell?"

Mentions: @captzexx @zexxcandell @eldridgecandell? which character do you want friend ;-;

The sigh that let loose from the 'hero's throat could have been a hurricane as he reached up to rub at his one good eye. Zexx Candell was no stranger to the difficult or the dangerous, which in his few meetings with the madam both of these were the normal for her and her 'Sisters'. He's heard a lot of people ending up in ditches, jail, or the bottom of the canals when they crossed her the wrong way and if he knew himself he was very good at the latter. This was a rough job.

But it was a job.

To say these were lean times in the Forge was an understatement. Rumors of all kinds of Scourge activity in the far northlands with Icecrown and not to mention the pieces still needing to be sorted after the Fourth War had lead to many tightened purse strings. Sure there was still the finding, guarding, or keeping an eye on someone kind of jobs that everyone always had a need at some point for, trust was in even fewer supply than gold. And he needed the gold as he cleared his cycloptic vision to look at the shark leaning across from him.

Least the view wasn't bad.

His gaze would shift from Susan to her pair of cohorts nestled behind her dressed accordingly for the Sinners. Sparse, flash, and deceptively functional.

The horizon wasn't bad either.

Now just for the storm.

"Alright," Zexx grumbled softly, his hands already absently searching over his vest for his red pouch. "But it's a third up-front for this job. And I get to see the package and know what's in it. If it smells bad or ticks, I'm out. The last thing I need is to be blown up."

Candell would find his vice with a grumble and opened up the pouch to his hand rolled cigarettes, the yellow paper dull in the tavern candle light as he added to the ambience with Ol' Smokey with a click and flare. The gold light lit up his bearded, broad face as it flickered over the salt in his pepper and flashed against the blue of his one good eye. The shadows flicked over the matching patch over his other eye as the lines of scars and well versed wrinkles were the same story about him. Silver smoke would snake it's away out from his mouth and nose as he slipped the lighter back in his billfold.

"Tell me about this Vanburen lady of yours."

@susan-gampre

A hand stretching towards the curvier Assistant could initiate her to most hastily procure a bottle from the depths of her satchel. After handing it to Susan the woman scuttles backward. There was fabulous contrast of Susans cherry red cutting edge nails against the rich tawny liquid of an unlabeled bottle. One could mistake it for liquor, like warm and inviting whiskey.

Drustvar.

A pang struck him deep in the chest, not for the country but for the rumor of the one who wandered those hills. He had little want to run into 'him', disaster was as disaster do and the cataclysm had nothing on when Candells met. A soft sigh would blow out his nose to let loose the stream of silver smoke into the air, half forgetting the lit cigarette had been in his mouth. Calloused fingers would quickly pull it out as he tapped his ashes to a green ashtray he'd commandeered when he first came in. Tendrils of acrid vice would linger for a few moments from the stalk to the landing as Zexx saw the drink placed before him.

There was the itch.

Bars were bad for the 'hero', to say he was brave to frequent them was an understatement. It had barely been a year since his soberity began, he still had the odd iron coin for surviving these last 10 months. A priceless treasure to him after the hell he'd wrecked on himself and everyone around him for so many years. 10 months. It had been hard and ugly, but thanks to Grum and the group he was hanging in there. But it never made moments like these easier.

He lingered on that sweet brown floating ever so gently in the cool glass. It was hurting now. Aching in his stomach and lungs as he tried his best not to stare, listening to her talk about the woman in Drustvar. Rich. Powerful. Monster hunting. It didn't mean much to him at the moment as that itch was becoming more of an ache by the second.

He took a long drag. It burned. It hurt. But it was the good kind of hurt. The kind that cleared your head and brought you back to your senses. Suppose that's why this vice was never gonna leave him and likely would kill him at some point.

Not today, that was for tomorrow.

Zexx cleared his throat and did his best not to follow up with the usual spit, but swallowed it back down with a grimace to his laugh lined face. It looked out of place but he wasn't about to spit in front of the madam and her gang. Decorum he reasoned. "So you're looking for friends in high places huh? Didn't think Drustvar was rich in much more than witches, monsters, and wicker creatures."

The swordsman would tap his ash again. "Oh and of course the silver."

Silver. It was pretty and that made the richer folk all the happier for the shiny soft metal, granted he wasn't above enjoying the look of it either. A soft memory of rings came to him as he let his eye shift to the tattoo on his finger. No. Not now, he quickly thought as he eyed the madam again.

Focus.

A forced soft cackle would rumble from his chest, his face adjusting easily to the mad sound he had been known for some time at the mention of these adventures. Maybe he was a bit more famous than he thought. Definitely dumber.

"Well, I'm not above a beer run," Zexx grinned slightly to Susan as he tilted his head a bit, his slightly yellowed teeth not as awful as some would think. Still not pretty either. "You'd be surprised what ol' Billy Law in Boralus can muster when you try to infringe on their rum trade."

The butt end of the cigarette was now in his fingertips as snuffed it out in the sea glass with a soft hiss. "I take it this is a solo mission or you plan to have eyes on the merchandise?"

The Madam's unruly golden irises held the eye of the fellow, a grim though amused smile entangling her glossy lips as a wry sarcastic question came forth to meet his pointed request:

"And here I hadn't supposed total trust was required in this equation. Well since you bring it up; How do you suppose I should trust you, wanderer?"

She leaned away from the bar, the palms of her hands holding her upright as with a swivel of her hips she dismounts the barstool from beside him, the full weight of her typically small stature bolstered by heels much too tall to be comfortable. She was still able to hold his gaze head on with this height advantage, a more direct tone taking place of her initial teasing one as she leans in closer, aiming for a discreet discussion:

"Ask yourself instead, what do you have to lose? All I'm asking is for a small favor from a familiar patron of mine, a simple delivery request," she gained a slight twinkle to her eye as she'd lean her elbows into the bar beside him, cocking her head whilst reviewing his facade for any kind of reaction as she probes, "If it's payment you're worried about, I'll pay a fourth of your fee upfront and the remainder upon evidence that you successfully delivered my goods to dear expectant Lady Vanburen-- Unless there's something alittle more rich in quality than plain gold youre seekin'? I'm open to negotiation."

In tow there were two finely dressed individual's with satchels in tote slung around their shoulders, their tailories of a finer quality than that of most servants, suggestive and revealing in design. To Candell this may look no different than most of the individuals of the notorious Sisters in Sin, only these two people actually wore outerwear fit for traveling. Both of them would lower their eyes and adjust their posture under Susan's stare.

"What say you, Mister Candell?"

Mentions: @captzexx @zexxcandell @eldridgecandell? which character do you want friend ;-;

The sigh that let loose from the 'hero's throat could have been a hurricane as he reached up to rub at his one good eye. Zexx Candell was no stranger to the difficult or the dangerous, which in his few meetings with the madam both of these were the normal for her and her 'Sisters'. He's heard a lot of people ending up in ditches, jail, or the bottom of the canals when they crossed her the wrong way and if he knew himself he was very good at the latter. This was a rough job.

But it was a job.

To say these were lean times in the Forge was an understatement. Rumors of all kinds of Scourge activity in the far northlands with Icecrown and not to mention the pieces still needing to be sorted after the Fourth War had lead to many tightened purse strings. Sure there was still the finding, guarding, or keeping an eye on someone kind of jobs that everyone always had a need at some point for, trust was in even fewer supply than gold. And he needed the gold as he cleared his cycloptic vision to look at the shark leaning across from him.

Least the view wasn't bad.

His gaze would shift from Susan to her pair of cohorts nestled behind her dressed accordingly for the Sinners. Sparse, flash, and deceptively functional.

The horizon wasn't bad either.

Now just for the storm.

"Alright," Zexx grumbled softly, his hands already absently searching over his vest for his red pouch. "But it's a third up-front for this job. And I get to see the package and know what's in it. If it smells bad or ticks, I'm out. The last thing I need is to be blown up."

Candell would find his vice with a grumble and opened up the pouch to his hand rolled cigarettes, the yellow paper dull in the tavern candle light as he added to the ambience with Ol' Smokey with a click and flare. The gold light lit up his bearded, broad face as it flickered over the salt in his pepper and flashed against the blue of his one good eye. The shadows flicked over the matching patch over his other eye as the lines of scars and well versed wrinkles were the same story about him. Silver smoke would snake it's away out from his mouth and nose as he slipped the lighter back in his billfold.

"Tell me about this Vanburen lady of yours."

@susan-gampre

(Got a prompt that went off the rails, I kind of like what I wrote so thought I’d put it out here)

PROMPT: with the upcoming Nov. 15 patch coming up (woo Dracthyr, woo Primalist invasions), many players are embracing the three year gap for their story. What has your character been up to in the last three years since the end of Shadowlands?

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know.”

“Should we run?”

“Where would we go?”

“I don’t know.  What should we do then?”

“We stay together.”

“I love you.”

– Odobenus

things you said at 1 am

things you said through your teeth

things you said too quietly

things you said over the phone

things you didn’t say at all

things you said under the stars and in the grass

things you said while we were driving

things you said when you were crying

things you said when i was crying

things you said that made me feel like shit

things you said when you were drunk

things you said when you thought i was asleep

things you said at the kitchen table

things you said after you kissed me

things you said with too many miles between us

things you said with no space between us

things you said that i wish you hadnt

things you said when you were scared

things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

things you said when we were on top of the world

things you said after it was over

things you said [make your own]

A Complex-hilted Longsword,

OaL: 48.8 in/124 cm

Blade Length: 39.9 in/101.4 cm

Weight: 3.2 lbs/1.5 kg

Rapier, Pietro de Formicano, ca. 1610–20, Metropolitan Museum of Art: Arms and Armor

Bequest of Col. Wickliffe P. Draper, 1972 Size: L. 47 1/16 in. (119.5 cm); L. of blade 40 ½ in. (102.9 cm); W. 9 in. (22.9 cm); Wt. 2 lb. 10 oz (1190 g) Medium: Steel, iron