The Cabal of Bastards

[mewkeere]

Vacation Cut Short

“Mosur.” The name came out deep, the hollow voice flat. It was enough to make the draenei crossing the empty Heart’s floor to pause. After a moment he turned and looked up to the top of the stairs where Hadeon stood. Pulling on an immediate grin he put his hands on his hips and leaned back to get a better look at the unamused Cabal member. “Heya H. Didn’t see you up there.” “I just finished balancing the books for our employees.” Hadeon paused and watched the thinner man. Mosur raised a brow and tilted his head wondering what exactly this could be about. Not another Telerin incident he hoped. “Yeah?” “Yes. I noticed there was a two week vacation slip for our piano man,” Hadeon paused again but didn’t give the younger a chance to speak before getting to the point. He didn’t want to give Mosur to much freedom to talk around the explanation he wanted. “It’s signed by you.” Another beat. “Paid vacation.” Mosur grinned relaxing a little. “Oh, just that.” “Just that.” Hadeon repeated as straight and flat as he’d started the conversation. “Well yeah, normally when you take a vacation it’s paid.” He started turning his hand in circles dismissively. “Not here. Not now. Two weeks Mosur. If we don’t have entertainment, we don’t have customers. If we don’t have customers, we don’t make profits.”  Mosur continued to act dismissively of this. “Oh come on H. He did a good job, he deserves a bit of a break. Besides we have plenty of bands clambering at the door to get a chance to play.” He glanced up, the death knight still stood in half darkness at the top of the stairs to his office.  “He did good what? Fixing up Zaanthe. Or he did a good job playing your game? You still haven’t told us where you were that night.” Hadeon commented. Though he commented he didn’t ask or press the subject. Instead he looked down on the other draenei letting a heavy silence build. Mosur didn’t have an immediate response, the older draenei’s gaze weighing heavily on him. “Hey, hey, hey now. Hadeon, come on. What’s the problem? You want me to go tell him we’re revoking his vacation?” Hadeon blew a snort through his nose. “Yes. Actually.” He paused enjoying for a moment the look of shock that crossed his partners face before it could be hidden. “His last day of vacation is on a Saturday. I need him to work that night. The band I had lined up dropped out, which is fine. Zaanthe won’t be here that weekend anyway. Go see if you can’t convince him to work that Saturday – and from now on I approve vacation time.” He waited for the man on the main floor to nod and turned back to his office. Offhandedly he spoke, “and stop playing games, I don’t need you scaring off my good employees.” This was followed by a half-hidden sigh.  “Yeah okay.” Mosur answered sighing himself. It was probably time they did actually meet, this was at least an excuse. The Broken Heart’s piano man. 

[vaard]

I’ve given myself too much power by creating a blank base for #warcraftdolls.  I might do a few of these and make a compilation later.

[80sanime]

[spillsnchills]

When a character doesn’t realize they’ve been, like, shot or whatever and they hand brushes against their side and comes away wet with blood, and they’re just staring at it like wtf is this and then their knees just totally give out on them and they sink down, maybe gasping a little as the reality finally hits them. That’s good stuff.

[tiger-in-the-flightdeck]

I see that, and raise you a character who knows they’ve been shot, but waits until the rest of their crew is out of sight to put their hand against the slowly spreading stain of blood on their shirt, then trying to steady their breathing so they can follow without letting on how injured they are.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Okay but like the character who doesn’t realize they’ve been hurt trying to see if everyone else is okay only to slowly realize that everyone is looking at them with mounting horror. Then they touch their side to find it’s wet and oh no

[kvothbloodless]

all 3 of you are evil but i admire, respect, and fear you

[peejeedarkmoon]

@cabalofbastards @asherrean

    The Broken Heart Club was humming with anticipation. The doorman noticed more than a few of their younger regulars from the dance nights drift past him all abuzz.  Word had spread that tonight’s performance was going to be a bit different from what the Kaldorie Songstress usually served up. For starters the full jazz band was already playing, and the normal grand piano swapped out for something a bit more compact and having an almost organ-ish sound (obviously of gnomeish design). The small dance floor was made larger by pushing back the tables near the front.  So far no one was dancing though. Everyone seemed to be… waiting.

    The hands of the clock had barely touched the top of the evening hour when the tone of the band changed, the clarinet breaking into an upbeat solo. That was all it took. Several scrambled to the dance floor not even noticing the draped figure step from the shadows just as the sax started in. She took her place on the small stage behind the mic. A snap of her fingers resounded like a gunshot, bringing all eyes to Peejee, her pink skin seeming to glow from around the shadow dark cloth draped around her like a robe.  As the band joined in she swayed side to side, a playful smile on her lips as her blue glowing eyes skimmed the dancers before seeming to pick out a suited male still sitting at a table and pointed, her disapproving voice cutting through the air:

Hey, brother, what you thinking? Leave that old record spinning You feel the rhythm, going

    Another snap of her fingers, and the whole club seemed to pulse slightly with the energy of the music, a couple jumping up to dance, others tapping their toes. The goblin and troll in the band called out:

(They call it lonely digging)

    Purple lips curved into a grin as she continued, eyes now casting around the club:

Let’s end your time to lay low Your knees a-bending, so It’s time to get up and let go (You’re gonna come undone)

     Peejee spied a female shyly dancing in her chair:

Hey, mama, how’s it going? Can’t see your body moving Don’t leave the party dying (They call it lonely digging)

     Another wave of her hand, snap of her fingers; again the yearning to jump up and dance coursed through the club. The Songstress wasn’t asking. 

 Your booty shaking, you know Your head has no right to say no Tonight it’s ready, set, go

    The music paused for a second. Peejee shifted as the music did, tossing back the dark cloak that vanished into the shadows to reveal her blazing bright blue and purple flapper dress. Rhinestones and sequence catching the light as her voice came out rapid and commanding:

Baby can you move it round the rhythm So we can get with ‘em To the ground and get us a rock and roll round Just a downtown body body coming with a super-hottie Let’s go, yes, no, hell no Baby can you move it round the rhythm ‘Cause you know we’re living in the fast lane, speed up It ain’t no game, just turn up all the beams when I come up on the scene

    As the trumpet cut in for the bridge Peejee grinned from ear to ear. She stepped back and started to dance, kicking her legs back in the Charlesten cow tail, swinging her arms. More people rose  from their tables, grinning as they joined the dance floor. 

    Once more a hand snapped up to point at a male still stubbornly sitting at a table, music changing as Peejee started to sing. 

Hey, brother, what you thinking? That good ol’ sound is ringing They don’t know what they’re missing (They call it lonely digging) Let’s end your time to lay low Your knees a-bending, so It’s time to get up and let go Hey, brother, nice and steady Put down your drink, you ready It’s hard when things get messy (They call it lonely digging) Your booty shaking, you know Your head has no right to say no Tonight it’s ready, set, go

    A few more dance steps then Peejee reached out to grab the mic stand. As she started to rapidly sing again she threw it to the side, making like she would catch it with a hooked leg but the mic seemed to vanish. Her voice still carried through the club like nothing had changed though now she danced as she sung, swinging her arms, kicking her legs:

Baby can you move it round the rhythm So we can get with 'em To the ground and get us a rock and roll round Just a downtown body body coming with a super-hottie Let’s go, yes, no, hell no Baby can you move it round the rhythm 'Cause you know we’re living in the fast lane, speed up It ain’t no game, just turn up all the beams when I come up on the scene

    As the note drifted off she jumped down to the dance floor, letting the band shift tone. They built in a slow crescendo while Peejee took turns with the dancers. Her infectious smile making them all feel the energy of the music. Then, just as the sax cut in and the music picked back up they all turned towards the bar and started to dance in sync. Swinging arms and kicking their legs as one, somehow each knowing exactly what moves to make at just the right time. 

    Then as Peejee’s voice cut through they all broke off, turning to each other and riding the energetic high. 

Baby can you move it round the rhythm So we can get with 'em To the ground and get us a rock and roll round Just a downtown body body coming with a super-hottie Let’s go, yes, no, hell no Baby can you move it round the rhythm 'Cause you know we’re living in the fast lane, speed up It ain’t no game, just turn up all the beams when I come up on the scene

     As the music started to fade off Peejee danced her way back to the stage and hopped upon it. Cheers resounded as the dancers finally slowed to a stop. The songstress turned to blow a kiss and wave at the patrons before gesturing to the band. While they took their bows Peejee slipped off the stage and faded back into the shadows. 

     After the last set Peejee found herself sitting on a rickety stool in the small closet-like dressing room backstage. She was in the middle of balancing a mirror with one hand while wiping off her stage makeup with the other when he found her. Ash softly closed the door behind him as he watched her work in silence. She waited for him to mention it. To tell her how imprudent she’d been. After what felt like an eternity of silence she put the mirror down and cast him a glance. It’d been their way for as long as they had known each other. A single look could contain an entire conversation. Trust with concern met willfulness with caution. 

    "You were amazing out there tonight.“ His voice was so soft she barely heard him.  

    She flashed him a brilliant smile, “Thanks for helping me make it happen. You put up with that 'infernal contraption’ quite well. I doubt anyone out there could tell you hated it.”

    A simple shrug of his shoulders was his only reply. 

    Finished with removing her makeup, Peejee stood up and reached for the zipper along her back. A grin spread across her lips when she felt her hands gently brushed away. Fingertips grazed her skin as the zipper dragged down.

    "Be careful, Peej. Talent like yours is liable to attract attention.“ She could see his reflection in the small mirror and knew what he meant. The people they worked for might want more than just her singing voice if they found out. Ash’s chess partner seemed to know who he was. Did they know about her?

    Her eyes closed as she shivered, though from the touch or the thought she wasn’t sure.

    The soft sound of the door closing was all that told her she was alone to wrestle with the answer.

[bloghqualls]

Iain Faulkner 

[aestheticschaos]

Mafia Couple aesthetic

requested by anon

[gameofthrones-fanart]

Game of Noir: Fantastic GOT Characters Reimagined as 30’s Gangsters by Ricean Vlad

[madamecuratrix]

Berluti, Fall/Winter 2013

Photoset 2 of 3

[herecomestherpmemes]

Mafia au sentence starters

“So you got the money?”

“Are you really gonna try to go after me?”

“Listen,kid,you’re talking to the biggest name in organized crime right now,don’t piss me off…”

“Okay,but I ain’t gonna find a horse head in my bed like in godfather,right?”

“One more fucking thing out of you and you’re done for.”

“Woah,woah,easy now,huh? Kid’s just starting out.”

“How are you suppose to replace me if you can’t go one second without tryin’ beat the shit out of someone?”

“Listen,it’s not all about intimidation,alright? You gotta know how to lead to…”

“So you’re the leader of which gang now?”

“Did someone disrespect you?”

“Listen,alright just hear me out,I’ll have your money just not right now.”

“Is it too cliche if I say I’m Italian?”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“So you want a favor,huh?”

“Okay,maybe I was a little harsh,but do it again and I’ll cut your eyes out.”

[onesharpfang]

This is the first time drawing a Draenei and I really like how it came out! Thank you, @shdwgambit for commissioning it from me.

Commission Info: x

[cabalofbastards]

Happy 3rd Birthday Mafia!AU

Thank you to all the writers that have contributed over the years

[mewkeere]

All Games Must Come to an End

The game had progressed long enough for Mosur. They say the winner of a chess match will always be the player who makes the next to last mistake. Though dangerously close, neither had made that mistake yet and it was safe to read nearly six more moves in before they would be tested on their individual strategies again, at least as he read the board himself. Still, Mosur knew Asherrean had his job to do, and if he continued to distract him with a lengthy and unexplained game of chess he may be putting undue stress the man. When Asherrean arrived at The Heart it was quieter than normal, enough to make the old veteran suspicious. The barkeep was normally counting bottles at this time, clinking glasses or humming to himself. Maybe it was just a combination of his nerves and the past couple days wearing on his soul, but regardless he had to decide whether he could keep this up. Though he thought he knew his opponent’s name, the Cabal’s fourth member, he had yet to meet them throughout the chess game. He wondered if the invitation he’d set when he left his bill for the enforcer’s healing had been worth it. This feeling of unease started when the very first first move his opponent made came in the form of a letter left at his abode. His employers seemed to know more about him when they hired him, he’d learned. There was still something deeply unsettling about a note being quietly slipped under your door. After setting a few of his personal belongings in the locker he used in the back, he opened the door to the establishment’s main room. For a moment he wondered if The Heart was closed today–the lights over the bar were off. The curiosity was immediately based as he saw what sat in the middle of the floor. A chess board. Paranoia sank deep into each of the music man’s bones and he stood frozen with the door partially open. There didn’t seem to be anyone here, and one of the rafter spotlights had been manipulated to shine down directly above the table. Other than that, only the dim orange lights at the back of the stage cast any illumination in the room. It was curiosity more than anything that drew him into the room when he finally summoned the will to move. He heard no sound, and no figures that he could see stood in the dark, though that alone certainly didn’t guarantee his safety. As he approached the chess table he took little notice of it, beyond the fact it was not the game he was currently in the midst of playing. His eyes still trained on The Heart’s corners for movement. Still nothing presented itself, and he allowed himself to focus on the table. Before him sat an empty board save for four pieces, a black rook, two black knights, and a black queen. On the wood outside the table facing him were a pair of pawns. One black. One white. The childish symbolism wasn’t wasted on him, though the weight of the question seemingly posed to him left the piano man with questions of his own. There were no notes, no indication of what each piece represented, or what it all meant exactly for him. Time passed; minutes, or perhaps seconds… he wasn’t sure. Staring at both pawns, he eventually reached and lifted the white one. A beat passed and he laid it down upon the board, resting on its side. He then reached for the black pawn and did the same. Having made his decision, he moved quickly back to the staff entrance he’d come from. He felt a nagging voice and a chill up the back of his neck within the dark, empty room, wondering what would perhaps happen if he had made the wrong choice. He grabbed his things from his locker, scribbled something on his timesheet about sick time and left quicker than he’d arrived. There weren’t many people that knew the bar’s mirror was a two way glass. Mosur nodded to himself, impressed at the creativity of the answer. Nothing had even been spoken by either party, and it was entirely up for interpretation. “No one wants to be a pawn anyway.” Mosur said to himself as he stood. He tugged his vest, straightening it, and left the small viewing room to enter the basement and come up the stairs into the staff room. It was empty by this time and he saw the notice of sick leave. True or not, he deserved a pass this evening. Mosur opened Koth’s locker and placed a grey-stone bishop in the center. “Oh shit, now I have to find a replacement.” Mosur said in sudden realization. The Heart still had to open even if he’d convinced Hadeon to push the time back two hours this evening. “Oh I know…whats the name of that band Zaanthe loves…?”

[mewkeere]

How'd I get...

Mosur chuckled and nodded at the blonde sitting next to him in the bar. Booty bay had always been a fairly neutral place even back in the old days so it was no surprise that it was an easier to mingle with members of the Horde. “Yeah, I’d say so, but what about you?”

She smiled at him and looked down at the drink she was cupping in both hands. “I’ve heard men like you are dangerous.” She smirked almost knowingly and looked at him from under her side swept hair.

“Who me?” Mosur sat up straight but grinned like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “No, no, not in the least.” He smirked again and reached out to take a sip from a small crystal tumblr. She’d been kind enough to buy him a drink when he’d sat down. This was generally Zaanthe’s M.O., meeting a lady at a bar, but hell why not. He smiled at her again. “So where are you from, not around here right?”

She offered again soft smile and shook her head. “No, I’m actually from Eversong. I’m down here on business, so I should be heading back tomorrow, but I was hoping to meet some interesting individuals while I was down here…even if they are dangerous.”

“You don’t say?” His smirk widened again and he let a soft laugh. “Well then, I suppose it’s nice to meet you since you’ve categorized me so. Name’s Mosur, how about yours?”

“It’s Alice.” She said smiling up at him.

His head hurt, right in front between his eyes at the base of his crest. His eyelid tightened and he groaned softly. He felt stiff and his throat felt rough. Each minor annoyance compounded by the pounding dizziness at the front of his crest. He was on his back, why he’d slept in such an uncomfortable position he didn’t know, it kept his hips raise and was uncomfortable over a long time on the base of his tail. “Okay,” he muttered and cleared his throat and moved to roll over.

The taut feeling around his left wrist caused him to open his eyes. His heart started racing, a series of worse case scenarios rushing to mind. He twisted his head to look at his wrist-tied. Rough manila rope circled his wrist three times, and he turned his head to see the same was true of the other.  A jerk of each leg proved the same.

It was a bedroom of some sort, the mattress beneath him was soft, and the sheets were some kind of silk, the throbbing in his head was almost forgotten as he jerks and pulled at the bindings. The bedposts didn’t flex or seem to give to any of his struggles, they were sturdy. Who was that woman, Alice… was that even her real name? No wonder Zaanthe only tried to pick up women at the Heart. He paused and wiggled a little more, nothing seemed to hurt except his head, and it wasn’t an injury; he hadn’t been stabbed or anything that he could tell.

“Hey, what do you want?” He yelled at a volume that hurt, but at least it seemed to start feeling better, it had to be some kind of drug that was wearing off now, in his drink? He tugged at the bindings when he heard no response, maybe the rope would be weak enough.

“Please stop struggling, I’m afraid you’re going to leave marks.” It was a man’s voice, familiar.

“How thoughtful of you,” Mosur quipped back. and lifted his head to turn and see who was speaking.

“On my bed posts, that is.” The elf’s response was dry but held an amused tone.

Blinking both eye several times he finally got a look at the figure standing by the corner of the bed and narrowed his gaze. “Primmling.” The draenei’s tone was dark, but more annoyed than anything.

The pale elf smirked and moved toward to the center of the bed. “Hello Mosur, how is the Cabal doing? Not getting into any trouble now are you?” He raised his brows in question as the draenei decided not to answer though at least he’d stopped struggling. “You and Alice seemed to get along well.”

Mosur turned his head to look at the lawyer now standing at the foot of the bed. “So it was her, you sent her then?”

“Didn’t she mention she was there on business?” The corners of his mouth turned up, “Now now though, we have a common enemy.” Eurynine started. He paused to adjust the cuff of his white, gold-embroidered shirt before continuing, “And I think both you and the Cabal will see the benefit in helping me out.”

Mosur jerked and pulled at his wrists and legs again this time more out of frustration than any attempt to escape. “What the hell, couldn’t you have asked me out for a beer or something? Sent a letter, given me a call, anything else?” He stopped struggling, at least if Eury needed something from him for now he had nothing to worry about. Just because he’d recognized the lawyer hadn’t meant that he’d felt any safer up until now.

The blood elf frowned and looked at each of his bed posts as the draenei caused them to shake. “I was serious you know, don’t tear up my bed posts. As for inviting you out, yes, I could have but where’s the fun in that? Besides you would have declined.”

“Just tell me what you want then.” He sighed and stopped jerking against the bindings. Perhaps if he complied this would all be over faster and he could get back to the Heart.

“Your brother-”

“No. Nope. Not having anything to do with this. Just let me up now.” Mosur said cutting the blood elf off. He didn’t want to deal with Rook, especially if Eury was describing him as a mutual enemy. He was a pain, sure, but he had his moments.

Eury paused and stood there with his arms crossed waiting for the draenei to fall silent again. “Are you done now? -Your brother, as I’m sure you may know is a member of a larger organization…”

[mewkeere]

Wish Granted

The lights in main room were dim, casting shadows over the faces of the two men standing behind the Don. Though their features were obscured there was little doubt they were a pair of the troll’s rumored zombies.

Seated across from the Don, arms nestled comfortably on stuffed armrests, the draenei’s smile grew wider, parting his lips while he waited for the troll to speak. He let his gaze canvas the table taking in all the knick-knacks, like the used ashtray facing the pair of guest chairs, one of which he occupied. His host seemed preoccupied with a pair of carved dice, but patience was a virtue Mosur found he could summon an abundance of when necessary.

The moments passed by, the only movement in the room belonging to the flick of the draenei’s tail and the troll’s constant toying with his dice, the gentle clattering of them on the leather desk mat was the only sound to be heard while they waited. The dice looked out of place compared to everything else on the desk, they were crude and appeared to be carved out of cheap, yellowed ivory. In contrast other items on the troll’s desk were expertly carved, smooth with a lacquered sheen and full of deep rich colors.  He spun them on their corners between thumb and finger and let them fall then inspecting them for a few moments before repeating the motion.

“It be done,” the troll spoke after a final drop of the dice. A pair of ones showed on the carved lopsided faces. His gaze shifted upward to read the draenei guest’s face.

“We’re certainly glad you approve Don. We’re only looking for a mutual working relationship with you and your family in the future and thought a proper show of neighborly goodwill was in order.”

“Neighborly good will? Dah Cabal lookin’ ta move some ah its business ova ta Kalimdor, dat be what dis is all about?” He questioned, still studying the well dressed man across from him.

“I can’t say for certain. It is a possibility in the future, but we aren’t planning to at the moment, no. We’ve just been aware that you’ve been making more and more of your home here in Stranglethorn, and as I said wanted to show you proper appreciation.”

Leaning back the troll pressed the butt of his palms against the front edge of the desk, pushing himself comfortably back against the chair and pulled open the desk’s front drawer. His attention had dropped away from his guest as the draenei offered no real threat to him in his own home with his own protections. “Ya said dis wasn’t ah gift ya was lookin’ for anyt’ing in return fa, but Papa be honest. Ya have done him a great service dis day, d’oh ya may not know it.” He lifted a leather-tied necklace from the drawer, hanging from it was a white porcelain jar, though one flattened in design. The leather lace was looped through the small handles on either side, the jar itself was just bigger than an old fashion gold piece. He held it out toward the draenei and read his curious expression. “Ya know Papa’s reputation, so ya know when ah be tellin ya dis will grant ya any wish, ya know it ta be true. Take it.”

After just a beat Mosur reached out and took the leather-lace necklace from the trolls hands and glanced down at it. “A wish, huh? So I could just wish for enough money to retire on?” He chuckled, though the idea of selecting one wish was a bit overwhelming. It would be something he’d have to think about.

“Ya could wish fa somet’in like that, ya. But Papa gonna give ya ah warnin’ just dis one time. Ya best be careful w’at ya wish fa, dah spirits be fickle t’ings mon. Best be makin sure ya wish is some kinda selfless else dey may take it outta ya blue hide.” The Don’s right eye glinted in the low light as he settled back into his chair and stared in silence. Several moments passed before Mosur realized they were done here, the meeting over, dropping the joking tone he quickly responded as he stood. “Thank you Papa Don Sowdi for your generosity. I will take your words under advisement.” With a shallow bow at the waist he turned and left, passing through a thick curtain of beads and down the stairs back out through the trolls main lobby.

“Well, how did it go?” The unmistakable voice of Zaanthe.

“It went well. Papa was pleased with our show of goodwill. He even gave us a gift in return.” Mosur tilted his head to the side and looked back over his shoulder grinning at the Cabal’s ‘pretty boy’ enforcer.

Keep reading

[theconstructsworld]

[sexy-woman-kor]

mchanzo