[Anya] An Apartment in East Village

[Meta]

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It wasn't anything overly fancy, but it wasn't just any shabby place to settle in either.  Fully furnished with what one may need for a comfortable stay in the city, with closeness to bars, stores, restaurants and all the nightlife amenities.  It featured a sizable living room combined with a kitchen, as well as one apartment and a bedroom, queen sized bed.  Located on the top floor of a 5 story building, it had the commodity of elevator access, or for the more...subtle of sorts, emergency ladders on the outside, leading into an alley.  The rent wasn't cheap, but it was affordable enough for a foreign third generation mage.

[Meta]

The door slam shut behind her.  She wasn't under the fairest of weathers, much less in this rain.  Her boots squeaked on the polished wooden floor.  It annoyed her, expressed in grunts and soft curses in the native tongue.  A package thrown on the dinner table.  Not heavy, average size, many stamps and seals, written in a plethora of languages, dotting its outer shell.

More grunts, ripping.  It's being torn apart, strings being cut by a knife hastily pulled out of the pocket.  Underneath it, thin sheets of paper, thrown aside as leaves in the wind.  Beneath layer upon layer of wrappings and tape, all sliced, ripped, gutted like a freshly hunted animal, it was there.  A moment of silence, later broken by a sigh.

It had been a long walk in this weather, preceded by many calls.  Favors asked, strings pulled, for the content of this unsuspecting, well traveled package.  A bundle of facial hair, intertwined to look like a fuse.  So much trouble for something so insignificant.  Who even knew if it was authentic?  It made her wonder how far gone her uncle was.  Maybe he did get one too many bullets to that bald head of his.

All the rest is left on the table, and that suspicious would-be-fuse is held, taken to the living room.  The knife is still in hand.  She kneels, remembering her lessons, repeated time and again.  She wouldn't disappoint them.  With quick, broad moves the wood starts to be engraved, ruining that pristine flooring to make way for something more important.  First comes the circle, then lines start to connect one end to another, more complex forms gain shape as the wood reluctantly gives way to the sharp edge of metal.

Time ticks by, on and on.  It's all drawn.  Except for one last thing.  The knife swiftly slices the palm, the palm smears the circle with red.  The hair fuse is placed in the middle.  A brief pause, the gap in the hand is closed by gauze, so that the hand may join its twin and take its position.  Then the chanting begins.

From the depths I call
The terror of men
Fear given form
From the depths I call
The cursed pirate king
Pride given form
From the depths I call
The foulest of knaves
Evil itself
From the depths I call
The impersonation of darkness
The legend, the tale
From the depths I call
The Queen Anne's Revenge
Its crew, its omens and its curses
From the depths I call Эдвард Тич, Черная! ^{[Edward Teach, Blackbeard!]}

[Throndir]

A blast of air surged around the summoning circle as items light enough began to move and shuffle from the energy of the summoning. With the glow of the runes still emitting light, a ghostly mist appeared then, diffusing the rest of the more electronic and non-magical lights in the room. When the lights seemed to dim, a figure took form in the center of the drawn magic circle. A silhouette of a large man, surrounded by the eerie mist and outlined by the faint light, took shape. The summoning lasted only a few moments, but once the mist had started to clear, a tall bearded man took its place at the center of the magic circle.

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He stood tall, his posture alone displayed a sense of surety and strength. His skin was deathly pale, and just like the tone of a corpse, the hue of his skin was more subdued and desaturated than what was normal. He looked sickly, yet he held himself firm with an almost unnatural strength. In his right hand he held a fully-loaded pistol, while in the other a curved cutlass was in plain sight to see. He held the weapons with a sense of familiarity, as if he could strike without any given warning or provocation. His dark hair was thick, while his beard was tied into braided strands that kept the mass under control. Pieces of fuse smudged with tar were tied to his beard in various places, each one alight with a slow burning fire. The make-shift candles plumed tendrils of smoke rising above him, forming a cloud of smoke that gathered right under the ceiling. His presence was overwhelming, giving off an aura that made those staring at him be filled with uncertainty. The man's deep eyes stared almost hollowly at the lady who had brought him forth. The pupils of his eyes pitch black as they continued to stare intently. Calculating. Judging. As if he were trying to measure the worth of the woman. The curves of his mouth raised slightly in a half-smile.

"A lass be the one that brought me forth?" He asked, his tone of voice slightly condescending. "A simple lass to be partnered with the scourge of the Seven Seas?"

He stepped forward, the weight of his boot stomping hard on the floor of the apartment. He leaned forward.

"Ye' be playing a dangerous little game little miss." He pulled at his beard then, tugging it ever so slightly. His voice was not empathetic, have an edge to his words as he considered the woman.

"Blackbeard does not play games."

[Meta]

Anya didn't seem fazed by the summoning, in fact, it was satisfying to see a lot of effort that had been put into it pay off.  She reached for her pocket, and pulled out a cigarette, and boldly lit it upon one of the mighty pirate's lit fuses, then placing it on her mouth. 

"Da.  But this game is no joke."  She said, staring right back at Blackbeard.  "I am not little girl, and what is at stake is no piece of candy."  She took a step forward.  "We are talking of the Holy Grail.  No gold you plundered was precious as it is.  No man you killed was as strong as ones you will face here."

Anya then gripped the cigarette with two fingers and took it out of her mouth, letting out a puff of smoke to the side.  "But I can assure you.  Of the masters in this competition, I am most prepared.  You may have been a scourge of the seven seas, but I am scourge of the americans in this war.  My whole life brought me to this point, my purpose to put fear in the hearts of these decadent pigs.  You are lucky that you had the 'simple lass' summon you, Edvard Tich.  No one else could."  She said, her tone serious as her glare.

[Throndir]

The half smile only grew wider as Blackbeard stepped back to laugh. The sound had a strange tone to it, there was mirth, but hardly was there any emotion put into his cold laugh. It resounded deeply, unnaturally echoing throughout the apartment as if his voice came from multiple directions all at once. His features took on a darker shade then, ominous did his presence feel. The weight of his presence seemed to crescendo, getting stronger and stronger. The lights seemed to dim though there was no visible hindrance to be seen, and the air's temperature lowered a couple of degrees. In a few more moments after that, it suddenly stopped. The aura was back to normal, the lights functioning as they've always had, and the chill temperature vanishing as if it had never happened in the first place. The pirate captain calmed down enough to sheath both his weapons away.

He had judged this master of his, and had found her acceptable.

"Ye' say you fight against the Americans?" Blackbeard said as he proceeded to make his way out to the closest window to get a view of their surroundings.

"I stole from them too." His eyes shone with heinous gleam.

"What be yer command..." He looked directly at his master.

"Captain?"

[Meta]

Anya cracked a smile on the corner of her lips.  Their mutual respect and understanding had been reached.  She placed the cigarette on her lips once more, nodding to her recently summoned servant.  "It is simple."  After some time, her eyes drifted off to the windows of the apartment, as rain still poured down from the sky.  "Show me what the legendary captain can do.  Just because grail is grand prize, it does not mean there is no more to plunder." Her eyes narrowed as she looked over at the buildings in the distance.  "This country took too much from mine.  It is time for payback."

[Throndir]

The large man considered the girl's words and smiled crookedly. He remembered his dealings with the Americans, in a different life, far removed from the reality in which he now was a part of. Settlers they were from the mainland. Quarrels between each of the so-called sovereign states at the time were aplenty, and the pirate had even participated in their little feuds. He remembered the bickering the colonists had which each other. Yet now, they were a country.

"So ye want revenge on the Americans then. They used to be the rowdiest and most undisciplined bunch in this side of the world." Blackbeard echoed, though not surprised that times had changed.

"Then lass- that is, captain," Blackbeard corrected. "Ye have the best person for the job. If it be pillaging, looting, or stealing, none knows that best..." He flashed a toothy grin.

"Except yers truly."

[Meta]

Anya nodded.  "I know Blackbeard is the best.  It is no coincidence that family and I chose to hunt, bribe and blackmail to get Edvard Tich's catalyst." 

"The other masters already plot.  They scheme and summon other servants.  We cannot let them fight on own terms...so we must go first and make the terms, would you not agree?"  She inquired, putting out her cigarette and raising an eyebrow at her servant.  "I am certain that notorious pirate like you knows just how we can do that, da?  You will find that my skills will align very well with yours." 

[Throndir]

Blackbeard cackled, his deep and throaty laugh from before, though not nearly as frightening. After all he had already shown that part of him to his master. His seemingly grey features seemed to be slightly livelier then, though likely it was from Blackbeard's mood. He was there for the thrill of the hunt, the chance for recognition, but most importantly the promise of treasure. This was his primary motivation, and he was more than glad that his master shared his own thoughts.

A wicked grin appeared on his face.

"Let us be striking first."

[Meta]

Anya nodded in agreement.  "Da.  Let us do so." She adjusted her coat, and did not hesitate as she started heading to the apartment's door.  The woman took with her very little but the necessary, double checking that she was properly equipped and armed.  Perhaps the rain would settle down, and if it didn't they at least had it as cover.  The matter now was finding more information on the other masters...