#CrookedTarot

[sarijrahzersyn]

End of Agent: Two Meetings

(Events took place before Broken Tool)

Due to the situation of him being legally dead but still unofficially wanted by the Maelstrom, Sarij’s visits to the Astral Place tended to be limited to short job briefings or meetings with the entire company. So when smaller meetings occur they tend to take place at Rhlagr’s Reach.

Sterrbhar, who had been looking into the the matters of Sarij’s arrest which broke his plea bargain with the Maelstrom and the matters of Balthius’s continued incarceration. The Hellsguard Maelstrom officer met with both Sarij and Berrod in the Reach to discuss his findings.

Unfortunately, Balthius seemed to being held at a higher pay grade than his rank would allow, or at least it was deemed ‘not his business.’ He was able to find better luck with prodding into the matter of Sarij’s arrest. The reporter who had broken the story about Blutvyse being on the seas once more, suddenly seemed to be allowed attend and report on more exclusive events, a sign of bribery. However, the corruption did not seem to end there. Bloodied Heart acted against the higher ups to get the details about the supposed sightings of Blutvyse assisting the Razor. His vendetta led him to a meeting at the Silver Bazaar south of Ul’dah. Very few witnesses cooperated with Sterrbhar with divulging details, but a few remarked about a dark skinned blond highlander Immortal Flames soldier with a much larger, likely Roegadyn, man. Sterrbhar concluded that Bloodied Heart was duped with false information that led to Sarij’s arrest; a dupe he gladly let happen due to a personal vendetta against Blutvyse.

After Sarij had to depart for a time, Berrod and Sterrbhar discussed added details from his investigations and what to do going further. Naturally, with the pair of them together discussions lead to matters of Monks while standing underneath the statue of Rhalgr.

Many bells later when the light was beginning to fade from the horizon, Sarij returned to the place he met Sterrbhar and Berrod for a second meeting. Crooked Tarot arrived in his theatrical style of cloak and dagger, which Sarij assured was not needed, but the Highlander countered with ‘I like it.’

Their meeting was more directly related to the matter of Iron Jaw and the possibility of him having damning financial ties that could link him to the Spinner’s Shears and ultimately destroying his reputation and exonerating the Astral Agents at the same time. Unfortunately, Iron Jaw seemed to be clean as a whistle. All of his financial dealings were well within non-suspicious ranges. Even when the man was in direct control of the Astral Agency every meeting with other Free Company heads was reported and recorded in transactions.

The meetings with the other companies piqued both Sarij and Crooked’s interest. The former director instructed the highlander to investigate what he could into the companies Iron Jaw met and ones he had control of in general. He also urged the man to look into members of the companies that left after Iron Jaw took over. With his orders, Crooked departed as sneakily as he arrived.

@astralagency @redsunscrawls @berrodarmstrong @crooked-tarot-rp

[einar-stone]

A Night Out

Einar loved to work, enjoyed a hard day’s labor and the satisfaction of a job well done, but even someone who enjoyed being productive needed some time off.

To that end, the highlander found himself in want of a good bar to spend the evening at and the Burly Barnacle was just opening its doors for the evening. He was never much of a bar-hopping man, though he could handle his alcohol quite well, but it seemed like a cozy enough establishment and the staff was quite the eye-full as well. The moment he’d walked in the door, he was greeted by a large roegadyn in seafaring dress. He’d offered the larger man a grin as he took his place at the bar and ordered the soup and pie for dinner. Both were meals on their own, but Einar had an appetite as big as his smile.

As he ate, he took the time to chat with the workers, ordering up whatever drink one of the roegadyn preferred the most. The drink turned out to be a black, syrupy ale that tastes a bit like tar. While most would think it’d be better used surfacing the hull of a ship, Einar drank the whole thing in a single swallow and asked for another.

He was quick to chat and enjoyed meeting the new people, exchanging a few words with a fellow member of the Agency: Tarot. They ate and drank and enjoyed each other’s company as two more from the agency eventually joined as well, the lady Cerina and Osric. When spirits were high and ale was flowing freely, Tarot and Osric chose to take to the stage and tell jokes.

Einar hardly understood most of them, but the few he did get earned the other men his laugh, spending the rest of the evening nursing one last glass of the dark mystery ale. The food was fantastic as well, enjoying every bite of it, and as the night began to wind down, he started to wonder which of his old friends might be interested in joining him for a night at the tavern when next it opened...

Featuring @astralagents, @crooked-tarot-rp, @cfs-melkire, @the-batcams, @burly-barnacle

[warbandcomic]

Patreon reward for CrookedTarot This is Tarot's goodie for being an awesome $10 tier member on my Patreon! Check it out at www.patreon.com/magusferox

[magusferox]

Sunday Stream Freebie - CrookedTarot by MagusFerox

His holy pope-yness of the third nipple. xD Done for The-Original-RPer during the Sunday freebies stream. He's one of my Patreon subscribers, so I pretty much spent the whole 3 hour stream making sure it was perfect for him. That's the difference between free art and art done for paying customers, kiddos! I always put priority on artworks done for Patrons. So the best way to be sure you get your Sunday Stream art is to subscribe! https://www.patreon.com/magusferox

[the-original-rper-blog]

The following is a message to all members of the Astral Agents:

From this day forward, all members of the Astral Agents are hereby granted an at-cost discount to any all purchases, arrangements and supply dealings with the Crooked Phoenix and its proprieter, Crooked Tarot.

This discount indicates that all items will be supplied at cost. In addition, requisitions will be also offered at cost for all materials or items. If the item or items requested or purchased do not meet the needs of the purchasing party, the Crooked Phoenix will see to its replacement or restoration at the expensice of Crooked Tarot and the Crooked Phoenix or one of its branches.

SIGNED: Crooked Tarot

@astralagents

[oncefated-blog]

❝ stop looking at me. ❞

[traumeriinarchive]

crookedtarot liked this for a starter.

(☾☆) — ❝Pick a card, any card!❞

[fireglory-blog]

crookedtarot 

probably tries ( badly ) and fails to avoid him.

[warbandcomic]

Monthly Patreon Reward for CrookedTarot Monthly treat for CrookedTarot! Get yours here: 

[the-original-rper-blog]

[Crooked Tarot] The First Stage of Grief

He had come back here every night. He couldn't help himself. The compulsion to return and see the place where he had been so happy and satisfied was too much to bear--and of course there was more to it than that. He had hoped, every night, he would open that door and find /him/ there. Waiting for him--smiling in that way that made him feel like he was facing down a couerl that could either nuzzle him or kill him. It was dangerous but gods did he love it. The lump in his throat choked him a moment as he forced open the door to their little secret hide-away. It was not completely abandoned, and he would not let someone come in and take away the last remnants of what was there. He lit the fire again as he did every night and laid himself down on the plush collection of pillows. Sprawlng there, looking up at the ceiling, he could almost hear them, all of them, carrying on--could almost feel his 'second family' in the room around him. It hurt deeply knowing they were gone...none of them had done anything truly terrible. They hadn't deserved the end they received. A brief moment of strangling sorrow took him again and Tarot put an arm across his eyes to stem the tears. It seemed like that's all he did anymore was cry. Of course it was never in front of people, but then he was rarely in front of people anymore. After he initially learned of the news and had been given Delacroix's eyes, Tarot had gone into a truly terrifying rage. His shop had been torn apart by his own hands and it was only by the grace of the Twelve he didn't destroy anything truly worth any value. Moggie and his many friends and relations had given him a wide berth then and Sebastian had done his best to comfort his boss but there was no consoling him in that time. It was ugly and black and even now Tarot didn't like to think about how vicious he had been--the hateful things he had told the young Raen, things he didn't expect to ever be forgiven for. Calling him things like 'Orphan', degrading him simply to hurt him--gods he had hated that boy's face to the point of loathing in that moment. He didn't want to see him--he wanted to see his Delacroix. After the storm had passed, he went to Ishgard, not able to look Sebastian in the face, knowing the boy was sad not because he was hurt (entirely at least) but because he still faithfully wished to please and help his boss. And so Tarot had been staying here, living like a hermit in his Ishgard branch of his shops and staying out of sight. And every night, under the cover of snow and darkness, he crept to the old hideaway in the Brume and simply laid here to sleep and wallow in his misery and mourning. Tonight would be no different--or would it? Let us consider how the door to the hide-out is opening. There--a shuffling of feet on the floor, dirty and ill-used boots that barely kept out the cold slid their way across the stone and carpet. Another moment and the door is shut--but who is this that has entered and disturbed the sanctity of this moment? The form is wrapped in filthy robes and tatters, fingers only just moments away from frostbite it seemed. Tarot sat up, his dissimilar eyes wild with anger at the sight of this person this beggar intruding. Had it been any other time or place, he would have welcomed him in as he had many others. Food and drink and fire. Perhaps even a bath. But not tonight. "Get out." "Pardon me--" the voice coughed, the chill of the night and snow having taken its toll. "I just need--" "Get out--!" Tarot snarled, eyes hot with grief, body trembling with rage. "This place is not for you! It will never be fore anyone but me and my companions!" He was on his feet in a moment, grabbing the beggar by the collar of his shabby garments and pulled him down to eye-level. Judging by the height he had to be an Elezen--he was large in build but not so large as to be a Roegadyn and this infuriated Tarot all the more. A ill=dressed mockery of the man he loved. "How dare you simply walk into our home!? How dare you--!?" He stopped when he saw it. It wasn't the light smattering of under-shaved scruff on the Elezen's chin or the sharp nose half-swathed by the bandages over his eyes. Blind. It wasn't the filthy, blond hair that stopped him either. It was the dimple on the right cheek. As the figure winced in pain at being so rudely pulled downwards, Tarot saw the dimple take brief form and his heart stopped. His eyes went wide and the shimmered with fresh tears that he honestly didn't even know he had left in him. The stranger said nothing at first, only stood there, hunched over and 'looking' at him from behind his marginally clean eye bandages. "Delacroix..." "Hello, Scales." "You live--he--lied--" Words failed him. The typically snide and overly-abundant vocabulary fled and Tarot was left to stand there dumbfounded, still clutching the dirty robes tightly. "You live." "I do." "I knew. I knew..!" Tears began to freely fall down his face as he pulled the man close and kissed him. "I knew it! Gods damn everyone and everything else but I KNEW it!" Dignity was forgone for the sake of his love. He didn't care if no one knew or if everyone knew that was blubbering like an idiot. After that, there were no words at all. Just sounds--sounds of Tarot trying to express everything he'd felt in the past few weeks and failing miserably. It all culminated in another set of two words, "He lied. He lies." He had to know, it was the only hope he had until now and it was justified. Rysswilf was a liar, even on something like this. A liar and a filthy mongrel. "You didn't do anything stupid while I was out did you, Scales...?" The Elezen rasped out a chuckle after he and Tarot had gotten closer to the fire and Tarot began to apply new bandages to his face--the whole process was a blur, so much so that Tarot couldn't remember if he had felt more anger or pity at the sight of the man's closed lids. He didn't care. He didn't care in the slightest. He would do everything for him--Delacroix was alive and back and Tarot would not forsake him. Never. "I may have knocked over a bookshelf or two." Understatement. "But I knew you lived. I never stopped believing I'd find you." "Denial is a stage of grief." "Just like you to want to be at the gods-damned center of that stage..." Tarot remarked, stroking the face that was tilted down at him. "I never stopped--and if it happened all over again I still wouldn't stop. Delacroix--just--we can find the others and we can be a family again. I can introduce you to Sebastian properly and--" "Tarot." "Yes?" "Don't blubber. That's not you." The wry, vaguely sensual tone, the purr that was Delacroix's speaking voice brushed over Tarot's ears and the Hyur shivered slightly at the feeling he never thought he'd experience again. "You need to clean up your shop for a start. Stand up and keep going, no matter what happens. I want to see it in top-form when I arrive there. You understand?" Tarot nodded, swallowing hard. "You haven't seen the main shop yet--I forgot." "Yes, and I'm very disappointed that I haven't. So like I said, top form." There was a long moment of silence, the only sound being the pop of the fire and the sound of snow and wind outside. "You never gave up...?" "Never." "And you never will?" "What--?" "Answer the question." "Never." There was no hesitation in Tarot's voice. "Even with me like this? You're fine with no more 'come hither' looks?" "I've seen better." Tarot was a liar too, it seemed but his hoarse chuckle gave it away. "But I can do without being given any kind of look from you so long as you're still around. So long as you're here." "Good." And with that, he let out a roar of pain that was cut off mid-shout--and Tarot awoke. Laying amongst the debris of his tirade where he had destroyed his shop, the man let out another groan of mortal despair...but it would be the last he ever uttered. He hadn't just destroyed this place--he had just never bothered to clean up. Looking around at what had once been the Ishgard branch of the Crooked Phoenix Emporium, the Hyur struggled for only a moment before he felt the resolution flooding the hole in his chest. Delacroix was alive. Rysswilf was a liar. And Tarot was going to bring the man he'd just happen to fall in love with home. With that in mind, he started picking up the pieces and righting the shelves. He wouldn't ask for help this time-he'd made the mess and he would clean it up. And he would be ready to welcome Delacroix into his shop as a patron and, maybe--a future partner in 'crime'.

@astralagents