PCs: Minus the Bear, Masq Timor

-Minus the Bear-

    Minus is a rock star. Yeah, it's an anachronism, you got a problem with that? Just go with it - the man looks like he just stepped out half an hour in pre-show prep getting groomed for display in front of a screaming crowd. He's got perfect skin and thick black hair sweeping over his brow to the back of his neck, and he's built like he swims upstream with the salmon every year. It's not about being beautiful, it's about having stage presence - but he's got both in spades, and it's clear that he's perfectly and happily aware of that.

    He's dressed like an exalt - silk pants and shirt dyed deep blue, heavy calf-boots, and most importantly, an orichalcum breastplate with reinforcing plates along his shoulders and thighs, strapped on with supremely resilient dragon-leather.

-Masq Timor-

Before you stands a man of middling years, his eyes bright and blue and clear. He stands very straight, a little shorter than average, with the beginnings of a well-fed paunch obvious through his cloths. A network of crows' feet and worrylines spread across his thin face, his thin lips pulled into a thin frown. His dark hair is pulled back pony tail, and greying at the temples. His full beard is still more pepper than salt, hiding his chin and upper neck.

He is dressed is very fine clothing, cut from dark silks and rich white furs. He wears a tight silver chain, and a pair of gold rings, one encrusted with small rubies, the other set with a large diamond. The cut and worksmanship are both exceptional, and exude a quiet aura of wealth and power around him.

---

Here in the Bastion District, the people are rich, the shopping is fine, and the office of Masq Timor can be found. Relatively unassuming, paneled in rare white woods from the depths of the Northeastern forest, it smells fresh and feels cool, even in the midst of the stink of Nexus that pervades even here.

The first floor is filled with scribes at desks, dealing with clients of various social strata. A few armed men, spears held casually, joke with one another. A darkhaired woman briskly moves between the desks, looking over shoulders without making comment, making the scribes sweat a little more.

Minus the Bear arrives as a sorceror ought - in style. He steps out of a carriage accompanied by the scent of grisly blood, a sure sign of the erymanthoi who accompany him in ghostly form. His presence is hot and sharp as a butcher's knife - but he could go on about how awesome he is all day, the important thing is he barges in without an appointment and insists on being attended to.

The woman with dark hair quickly intercepts the arrival, smiling and bowing. "Good day, noble sir," she says, curstying briefly. "And what brings so honorable a guest to the business of Timor?"

Minus the Bear 's words sizzle with the proprietous essence of the Mastery of Small Manners. "Rumor tells that he can arrange prayer for divine clients for a suitable fee - I require a new Essence supply, and wish to arrange an appropriate service for an appropriate price."

"Of course, noble sir," she says. "Please wait for just a moment." She curseies again, then fairly runs up the steps. A few seconds later, Timor himself emerges, dressed in understated finery. "Greetings to you and your divine presence!" He walks up to Minus, then sketches a brief, almost perfunctionary bow. "Please, come into my office, this way..." he says, leading you up the steps.

Minus the Bear barges on in casually enough, settling in. He's armored in shining orichalcum. "Let's dispense with the formalities," he says curtly. "Is it true that you can provide me with prayer for a fee?"

Masq Timor sits himself behind the desk, smiling and nodding. "Cut to the chase? Fine. Then yes, it is. I've established a few little places of forced prayer, and so far, my customers seem quite satisfied. Need a few hosanas tossed your way?" He pauses, and adds, "Kinda expensive though. Takes a lot of slaves, and not low quality Fae eaten trash, either. Plus, prayer wheels, incense... Costs add up." He leans back, seeing how Minus takes that.

Minus the Bear says, "I'll bind ten demons to specific tasks of your choice in exchange for sufficient worship for essence flux as well as dream enhancement. I need this worship for a period of one lunar month."

Minus the Bear says, "I'll pay within a season but I need it on credit, and I'll swear an oath to this effect. Likewise I need you to swear an oath to keep this discreet."

Masq Timor whistles, and nods. "Doable. When do you want the prayers to start? And, you got a hymn you want people singing? Blood shed? Flavors of incense?"

Minus the Bear pauses. "No human blood sacrifice, not picky for the incense. Music. Hymns, as many as possible. I can provide hymns. Give me a pen and paper, I'll provide sheet music," he says, humming as he improvises a few sonatae.

Masq Timor passes them along, nodding slightly. "Catchy," he comments at one point. "I've never been much of a hymn man myself, but then, I don't get the temples, I just supply 'em."

Minus the Bear nods. "The price is acceptable? Good. Let's be clear: no human blood sacrifice. That includes implicit blood sacrifice such as working people to death. You'll use these hymms I'm providing you. In exchange, I will provide ten demons to do... what?" he says. "What will you be asking of me? Because there are some things I will not bind them to do for you."

Masq Timor hmms, considering, and smiles. "I'm not sure yet; have to give that one a ponder. However, I trust you're an honorable sort- if you swear that you'll not deny me reasonable services, then we can settle on the precise details later. You're clearly in a hurry, and the sooner we shake, the sooner I can start getting the paperwork in order."

Minus the Bear says, "I will not deny you reasonable services such as delivery, bodyguard duty, or labor."

Minus the Bear says, "Shall we swear?"

Masq Timor considers, before nodding, and holding out his hand. "I swear. You'll have your prayers and hymns for one month, starting within the next... say, five days? You'll bind ten demons to a reasonable service I shall name in the future for one month."

Minus the Bear says, "All according to the terms previously defined. And I will bind this oath under heaven. Note that this is a very, very binding oath. Are you still comfortable?"

Masq Timor shrugs slightly. "I've dealt with Gods before. Why would I start getting uncomfortable about it now?" And he does seem fairly blase about the whole matter, as if blood scented sorcerers demanding forced prayer houses was common in his line of business.

Minus the Bear nods casually, and binds the oath. "Then I, Minus the Bear, Eclipse of the Solar Exalted, do bind this oath," he declares, as his anima flares around him in the shape of a luminous kodiak whose sweet-scented breath rises to heaven. "Nice doing business with you."

Masq Timor nods, eyes growing a little wider. "Well. And you too, Lord Bear."