Edward Driskill

  A sinister and perilous gentleman, Edward Driskill is as heartless as he is hedonistic. Caring very little for petty things such as morality, Driskill is ruthless in his pursuit of wealth and knowledge, and is willing to stoop to any level to reach his goals. He consorts with criminals, bohemians and devils, shunning polite society in favor of a more colorful crowd of ne'er do wells and miscreants. //Fallen London RP Blog, Fallen London account name is Edward Driskill.

[edward-driskill-blog]

Open starter

Driskill awoke suddenly in the semi darkness of an empty alley in Watchmaker's Hill. Rats scurried about him as fumbled about to find his scattered things. Groping blindly, he found his rapier next to his bloody Trilby and crawled over to where his raven glass parrying dagger lay a few feet away from him. He rifled through his pocket, and to his astonishment found all his possessions still on him. He touched the left side of his face and winced, noting that it had not fully healed from the fight. As he rose, he heard someone walking in his direction and instinctively raised his blades to defend himself.

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

What kind of trouble?

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

edward-driskill:

Driskill tasted blood as the brass connected with his face. He fell to his knees, still staggered by the force of the blow, and looked up at Cruz. Gone was the smug smile, replaced by a look of twisted rage. Still on the ground he swept his free arm into Cruz’s leg, trying to force them to the ground.

Cruz pulled the dagger out of their shoulder with a wet noise, tossing the weapon to the side and sending it skittering across the cobblestones, out of reach. Damn, that hurt. They, however, barely even had time to roll their shoulders to test the joint before Driskill’s arm collided with the side of their knee, getting them to stumble, but not entirely unseating their balance. 

A crude snarl etched across their painted features, Cruz kicked ruthlessly at the side of Driskill’s head, aiming to knock him to the pavement and – hopefully – down for the count.

[edward-driskill-blog]

Stars filled his vision as the boot connected with the side of his face with a sickening crunch. He felt it cave in the left side of his face before slipping into unconsciousness. Next thing he knew he was on a boat, playing chess with a familiar figure. "Damn them," he cursed as the boat made it's way lazily down the dark water.

[cunninglingua]

13

#13 “Yes, hello, stranger, could you please let me into your house, I swear I don’t have constables on my trail or anything.”

What would one expect the tenant of a small flat above a bookshop to be?  Whatever Edward was expecting, what the perilous gentleman got was a thin thing with wet, curling black hair close to his smoking face, a glowing beetle perched in his hair, and dressed in a dark brown suit.  The person squinted at Edward for a moment before he pushed a pair of spectacles back up on his nose.  Slowly, those eyes sweep up and down Edward in assessment.

[cunninglingua]

edward-driskill:

“I am not some child to be ordered around, ” bristled Driskill, but still he accepted the bread and took a healthy swig of the drink. He was beginning to feel like his normal self, when he heard a sharp rap on the front door.

“No, you’re not.  You’re a guest who barged in after-”  The rap of a fist on wood knocked color right out of Sereno’s face, his eyes wide.  After a split second, he removed his glasses, shoving them onto Edward’s nose.  With that, he grabbed Edward by the wrist and pulled him across the small passageway, into the next room.  

The room was- cramped, dominated by a tattered, gray curtain held up by a four-poster bed, with a few cushions beside the wall.  One had an ocelot fast asleep on it, an ordinary kitten curled up beside it.  Sereno shoved Edward past the second curtain, leaving him in relative darkness and the expected wood not there at all.

“One minute, d__m it!”  Sereno yelled, undoing his collar and unbuttoning his shirt as he headed back to the door, gnawing on his lip.  He blessed his easy embarrassment as he shoved the door open, mouth in a firm line.

“Yes?”  It was certainly an unexpected sight; a flustered, annoyed Sereno with tousled, still damp hair, his clothes in more disarray than one might expect, lips red.  Almost as if they were interrupting something.

[edward-driskill-blog]

The constable was a short portly gentleman in his mid 40s with a broken nose and curly blond hair. "My apologies good sir, didn't mean to disturb... whatever it is you were doing. But we are tracking a very dangerous criminal and he was last seen in this building. Have you seen this man?" He shoved a poor sketch of Driskill into Sereno ' s face.

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

What kind of trouble?

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

edward-driskill:

Driskill disengaged from Cruz, leaping back to avoid their swing. He circled around them, sword held aloft before him, looking for an opening. Seeing his chance, he feinted with his rapier and stabbed with his dagger.

As vigilantly as Cruz covered it, the feint came right from their massive blind spot; they only barely caught the first feint, and the true blow came out of the blue and caught them in the shoulder. They cried out and recoiled, but did not pull away immediately – no, they grabbed Driskill by the wrist, held it there as they swung at the side of his face with their brass-clad left fist.

[edward-driskill-blog]

Driskill tasted blood as the brass connected with his face. He fell to his knees, still staggered by the force of the blow, and looked up at Cruz. Gone was the smug smile, replaced by a look of twisted rage. Still on the ground he swept his free arm into Cruz's leg, trying to force them to the ground.

[edward-driskill-blog]

//Sorry that I have not been active these last few days. It has been a hectic week. I will be replying to stuff soon.

[edward-driskill-blog]

Journal Entry 2: Bothersome Assassins

Well, it looks like someone has hired assassins to kill me. While I was sitting at my favorite tea shop in the Forgotten Quarter, a young woman attacked me without provocation in broad daylight. After a brief struggle, I dispatched my assailant in a most brutal fashion with my tea cup and calmly made my way back to my lodgings. If I had to hazard a guess as to who sent her, it was likely that young lady Vivian from Veilguarden. Or was her name Francesca? Whatever her name was, she certainly did not care for the way I carried on with her brother. Or maybe it was Gerald from Wolfstack docks? Could he still be mad about that incident with the goat? Or maybe it was that person from the tomb colonies, what was their name? Paul? Pauline? Prudence? Whatever that case, they were certainly crazy enough to do this. Who ever it is, I will have to deal with them appropriately. I have spoken with the Lady in Green, and a plan has been set in motion to eliminate my would be assassins.

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

What kind of trouble?

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

edward-driskill:

themonocularchameleon:

edward-driskill:

Driskill cracked his neck from side to side. “Cutting right to the chase? I can respect that. I didn’t have any witty banter prepared anyway.” Driskill drew his blades and readied himself for combat.

Noting the blades, Cruz slipped one of the knuckles off their hand and replaced it with their own dagger, shifting their body in such a way as to cover their blind spot as much as possible. Uninterested in chivalry, they moved in as quickly as possible, going in for a ruthless blow to the side with their closed fist.

Caught off guard, Driskill ’ s smug smile was replaced by a look of suprise and pain as the brass knuckles dug deep into his exposed side. Reeling from the blow, Driskill staggered backwards, almost tripping over his own feet. This would be no easy fight. Cursing his arogance, he repositioned himself directly across from his opponent and raised his guard. Without warning, he lunged at Cruz, his wickedly sharp blade heading right for their vitals.

The dagger in their right hand came to use; they twirled it to block the incoming thrust, but the blade wasn’t quite broad enough to effectively divert the blow; it split the skin along their forearm instead, right down the length of it, shearing easily through the pinstriped fabric. Cruz gave a hiss and a low growl, giving the weapon a brutal shove to attempt to throw the taller man off his balance, to follow up with another left.

[edward-driskill-blog]

Driskill disengaged from Cruz, leaping back to avoid their swing. He circled around them, sword held aloft before him, looking for an opening. Seeing his chance, he feinted with his rapier and stabbed with his dagger.

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

What kind of trouble?

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

edward-driskill:

Driskill cracked his neck from side to side. “Cutting right to the chase? I can respect that. I didn’t have any witty banter prepared anyway.” Driskill drew his blades and readied himself for combat.

Noting the blades, Cruz slipped one of the knuckles off their hand and replaced it with their own dagger, shifting their body in such a way as to cover their blind spot as much as possible. Uninterested in chivalry, they moved in as quickly as possible, going in for a ruthless blow to the side with their closed fist.

[edward-driskill-blog]

Caught off guard, Driskill ' s smug smile was replaced by a look of suprise and pain as the brass knuckles dug deep into his exposed side. Reeling from the blow, Driskill staggered backwards, almost tripping over his own feet. This would be no easy fight. Cursing his arogance, he repositioned himself directly across from his opponent and raised his guard. Without warning, he lunged at Cruz, his wickedly sharp blade heading right for their vitals.

[cunninglingua]

13

#13 “Yes, hello, stranger, could you please let me into your house, I swear I don’t have constables on my trail or anything.”

What would one expect the tenant of a small flat above a bookshop to be?  Whatever Edward was expecting, what the perilous gentleman got was a thin thing with wet, curling black hair close to his smoking face, a glowing beetle perched in his hair, and dressed in a dark brown suit.  The person squinted at Edward for a moment before he pushed a pair of spectacles back up on his nose.  Slowly, those eyes sweep up and down Edward in assessment.

[cunninglingua]

“No need,” snapped Driskill, more forcefully than he had intended. He was still rattled by the sudden flood of sensation that had accompanied the spice. Waves of silent horror washed over him as he began to feel his senses deaden and emotions dull until all he could feel was the all consuming numbness and dissociation. He yearned more, more of the spice, more of the sensation he had been craving for these last few months. But at the same time, he was afraid of losing it all again.

“You still should drink.  Your eyes are watering.”  Sereno replied worriedly as he turned back, carrying the bread in hand.  "And as white as a sheet.  That’s saying something in this city.”  He pressed the bread into Edward’s hand, his skin- definitely darker than Edward’s.   Warm as well, and there was something lingering, a smell of lavender.  “Drink.“  Sereno braced himself with one hand against a table as he toed out an ottoman, scratch marks on its sides and a few black marks on top, then pushed it in Edward’s direction.

“And sit down.” Sereno’s voice spoke in clipped tones now.  "You unconscious is likely more dangerous; can’t run if the Constability comes in.  Or talk to pass the time.“

[edward-driskill-blog]

"I am not some child to be ordered around, " bristled Driskill, but still he accepted the bread and took a healthy swig of the drink. He was beginning to feel like his normal self, when he heard a sharp rap on the front door.

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

What kind of trouble?

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

edward-driskill:

Driskill strode confidently towards Cruz, whistling a cheerful tune. He wore a light blue suit, his usual Trilby and a black armband on his right arm. Strapped to his hip was his rapier and raven glass parrying dagger displayed openly for all to see. As he approached them, Driskill flashed Cruz his signature smug smile.

About goddamn time. Cruz lifted themself from the wall, unhooking their knuckles from their belt and slipping them over their fingers nonchalantly. It was surface brass, not Hellish – they glinted cold in the moonish light.

“Do us both a favor and don’t even start with the smartass remarks,” Cruz spat before he started saying anything, single eye glaring as cold as their knuckles. “I’m about ready to have this be over with.”

[edward-driskill-blog]

Driskill cracked his neck from side to side. "Cutting right to the chase? I can respect that. I didn't have any witty banter prepared anyway." Driskill drew his blades and readied himself for combat.

[cunninglingua]

13

#13 “Yes, hello, stranger, could you please let me into your house, I swear I don’t have constables on my trail or anything.”

What would one expect the tenant of a small flat above a bookshop to be?  Whatever Edward was expecting, what the perilous gentleman got was a thin thing with wet, curling black hair close to his smoking face, a glowing beetle perched in his hair, and dressed in a dark brown suit.  The person squinted at Edward for a moment before he pushed a pair of spectacles back up on his nose.  Slowly, those eyes sweep up and down Edward in assessment.

[cunninglingua]

edward-driskill

“I will accept that wine if you are offering,” replied Driskill, as he made his way towards the pot. He poured himself some chili and took a small taste, water rushing to his eyes as the spice touched his tongue. Ever since he had undergone extraction he had begun to prefer spicy food, but even he was unprepared for this level of heat. His deadened senses came to life as the spice filled him up, and for a brief moment he felt as he did before extraction, before he had lost his soul. Driskill stood motionless in the middle of the room, still holding his bowl in his shaking hands.

The broth certainly burned as it went down, bright and earthly, with bitter coffee playing with the sweetness of whatever passed for tomato, something meaty underneath the flavor and spice.

By the time Edward came to his senses, the bowl was gone from his hands, Sereno setting it down next to the pot.  "Now that’s a new reaction.“  Gently, Sereno pressed a cup into Edward’s shivering hands, studying Edward curiously.  "Drink, drink.  It’ll help with the burn and I’ll get some bread.”  Sereno took a few steps to a half broken-cupboard as he spoke.  "It isn’t very good, but it does the job if you aren’t used to heat.“

[edward-driskill-blog]

“No need,” snapped Driskill, more forcefully than he had intended. He was still rattled by the sudden flood of sensation that had accompanied the spice. Waves of silent horror washed over him as he began to feel his senses deaden and emotions dull until all he could feel was the all consuming numbness and dissociation. He yearned more, more of the spice, more of the sensation he had been craving for these last few months. But at the same time, he was afraid of losing it all again.

[edward-driskill-blog]

*clutches heart* Oh GOD. Five seconds of being souled by way of chili. Talk about SOUL FOOD.

*Loud groaning ensues*

[alys-silverthorne]

Driskill surveyed the busy street before him, looking for suitable targets. It had been months since he had last picked pockets, and he had long since given it up as profession, but he was feeling bored and mischievous today. He spied a shock of curly red hair amid the crowd and gave an impish smile, knowing that he had found his first victim.

It was not at all uncommon for people of any sort to be targeting Alistair. Indeed, it was something they were used to. It came with the territory of being notable, they figured, and often, they preferred to be a target than anyone they cared about.

It was not difficult for anyone watching them to realize they were inconspicuously armed quite well, and beyond that, that they knew what they were doing with a blade. A flutter of black silk ribbon on their arm proved that fact quite well and kept most people at bay… unless they wanted to try to earn that Ribbon.

They weren’t, however, often expecting pickpockets. Deadly assailants were more their concern than the loss of a few echoes or other loose small change items they might carry, but it would still be an endeavor to truly sneak up on the ever-wary Lexicologist on their way home.

[OOC: you do realize, fellow player, that uh. Alistair is no true friend to devils or anyone that calls them friend? This might be… interesting.]

[edward-driskill-blog]

Driskill strode silently through the bustling crowd, pressing his way towards the Lexicologist. As he approached them, he noticed the black armband and began to reconsider his choice of mark. On the one hand if he was caught, he would likely be riddled with holes that would take weeks to recover from. On the other hand, if he didn’t get caught he would have quite the tale to tell later tonight at the Singing Mandrake. He decided to throw caution to the winds, and with one elegant motion brushed beside the Lexicologist and palmed the contents of their pockets.

[alys-silverthorne]

A few pieces of cardstock that were likely calling cards, a bit of glass full of organic shapes and angles, the rounded smoothness of a scattering of Moon-Pearls, the clinking feel of some sort of coins, and, as an added bonus, a pale hand snapped about his wrist nearly as tightly as steel cuffs.

They stared at him through their Cosmogone glasses, their eyes an indistinct stormy darkness behind them, as they came to a sudden stop in that crowd of bustling people and held him there beside them.

They did not speak, merely watched him with an oddly blank expression. Perhaps they wanted an explanation from him, or perhaps they were waiting for him to make the first move, but either way, their other hand was out of sight and curled around the handle of a blade. They would not be caught out defenseless in this again.

[edward-driskill-blog]

Driskill let out an awkward laugh. “Please excuse my clumsiness. I suffer from a slight case of virtigo and occasionally loose my balance. If you could please let go of my hand so that we can both be on our way.”

[alys-silverthorne]

They were quiet still for another moment or three, considering his response with a slightly raised eyebrow. Something about that expression made it quite clear they did not completely believe him. Then, they sighed softly and let his wrist go free, stepping back as they did so.

“My apologies. London is not the sort of city that inspires confidence or trust in one’s fellow citizens.” That voice was refined, tinged with the edge of a foreign home, and quite polite. “There are many people who do not have kind intentions towards others. I hope you do not run into those sorts when you find yourself afflicted so.”

[edward-driskill-blog]

"Thank you for your understanding," replied Driskill, giving them a sheepish smile. "Most simply assume the worst of people in this city. It is nice to see that there are still those who can see the inherent good in others." And with that he made his way down the busy street, smiling to himself as he pocketed the loose coins.

[edward-driskill-blog]

//sorry that I have not been able to respond to your prompts. I have been in Indianapolis for the last few days, but now I am back and ready to rp!

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

What kind of trouble?

[themonocularchameleon-blog]

edward-driskill:

Driskill suppressed a smile. He had done it. Now to deal the final blow. He pressed his hand to his mouth in mock indignation. “Why I never!” He exclaimed, doing his best to cover up his glee. “I will not stand here as you hurl abuse at me!” He removed his glove and slapped them clear across the face with it. “I demand satisfaction! Watchmaker’s Hill, a week from today.” And with that he stormed away.

He’d made the first move. That was the delightful thing. Cruz barely moved as the glove hit them across the face, though it did send their fan skittering out of their hand. It clattered to the floor, deafening in the yawning silence that followed Driskill’s outburst.

Daintily, Cruz crouched to pick up the accessory and fanned it back out to inspect for damage before replacing it in their sleeve, smiling demurely as they excused themself from the gaggle of onlookers beginning to gather, suppressing any pique or humiliation they felt over the incident with smug self-satisfaction. They’d have more than enough opportunity to take it out on the 

A week later, Cruz was at Watchmaker’s Hill, right on time, if entirely different from how they conducted themself in Court. They had completed their poem in record time, spurred on with the looming deadline to meet, and if it had come off as rushed, Cruz certainly didn’t care.

Leaning against one of the moldering buildings, they were clad in a much more practical ladies’ cycling suit, oxblood-red split skirt loose about the heavy, hobnailed boots that tapped impatiently against the cobblestone street. A set of brass knuckles, polished and heavy, dangled by a chain at their hip, and the hilt of a slim steel blade peeked out from their waistband. One single black ribbon was tied unassumingly around their upper arm, but it spoke an open threat.

Cruz checked their timepiece absently before slipping it back into a pocket, waiting.

[edward-driskill-blog]

Driskill strode confidently towards Cruz, whistling a cheerful tune. He wore a light blue suit, his usual Trilby and a black armband on his right arm. Strapped to his hip was his rapier and raven glass parrying dagger displayed openly for all to see. As he approached them, Driskill flashed Cruz his signature smug smile.

[cunninglingua]

13

#13 “Yes, hello, stranger, could you please let me into your house, I swear I don’t have constables on my trail or anything.”

What would one expect the tenant of a small flat above a bookshop to be?  Whatever Edward was expecting, what the perilous gentleman got was a thin thing with wet, curling black hair close to his smoking face, a glowing beetle perched in his hair, and dressed in a dark brown suit.  The person squinted at Edward for a moment before he pushed a pair of spectacles back up on his nose.  Slowly, those eyes sweep up and down Edward in assessment.

[edward-driskill-blog]

“We know each other for less than a minute and already you’re inviting me to your bedroom?” Laughed Driskill. “I knew that I was good but I didn’t realize that I was that good! Very well, as you are my host I will defer to you on this matter.” He stood up straight and looked very seriously at Sereno. “I would have you know that most people invite me to dinner first, but since this is a special occasion, I will let you skip to desert this one time.” His face broke into another one of his mischievous grins.

[cunninglingua]

Sereno stepped back to poke his head into the room, his voice mild as he replied.  "It has the advantage of not sharing a wall with the pathways to other places, and therefore, the Constables won’t be as likely to hear your voice.  And you can hide under the bed if we hear them coming.

"Besides,” Sereno turned away, “Unlike high society, I don’t have a sitting room. If you want dinner, there’s a few bowls next to the pot and a spoon or two.  Just be warned that if you aren’t used to spice… there’s tea in the kettle and I know I have a few bottles of wine somewhere.”

[edward-driskill-blog]

"I will accept that wine if you are offering," replied Driskill, as he made his way towards the pot. He poured himself some chili and took a small taste, water rushing to his eyes as the spice touched his tongue. Ever since he had undergone extraction he had begun to prefer spicy food, but even he was unprepared for this level of heat. His deadened senses came to life as the spice filled him up, and for a brief moment he felt as he did before extraction, before he had lost his soul. Driskill stood motionless in the middle of the room, still holding his bowl in his shaking hands.

[cunninglingua]

13

#13 “Yes, hello, stranger, could you please let me into your house, I swear I don’t have constables on my trail or anything.”

What would one expect the tenant of a small flat above a bookshop to be?  Whatever Edward was expecting, what the perilous gentleman got was a thin thing with wet, curling black hair close to his smoking face, a glowing beetle perched in his hair, and dressed in a dark brown suit.  The person squinted at Edward for a moment before he pushed a pair of spectacles back up on his nose.  Slowly, those eyes sweep up and down Edward in assessment.

[edward-driskill-blog]

“Well Sereno,” replied Driskill, pulling up a seat a good ways away from the bucket. “Now that we are better aquainted, would you like to have a nice intellectual discussion on the semantics of legality, as we wait for our uniformed friends to vacate the building?” His face suddenly broke into a mischievous grin. “Or would you like to continue what we started at the door?”

[cunninglingua]

That smile made Sereno stand ramrod straight, his chin up and his words serene.  If one didn’t hear what he was saying, he could have passed for a scolding matron.

"There is always the option of both.”  Sereno gestured vaguely, his cheeks darkening again.  "After all, one could call your clever tactic of diversion to be terribly illegal.  Or at the very least, extraordinarily indecent and a violation of the Ministry’s sensibilities.  If you’re interested in that sort of discussion…“

Sereno pushed the curtain away.  "Best in the bedroom  Curtain across.  I keep my more volatile work out of there.  Just isn’t write to work on Correspondence like that.”

[edward-driskill-blog]

"We know each other for less than a minute and already you're inviting me to your bedroom?" Laughed Driskill. "I knew that I was good but I didn't realize that I was that good! Very well, as you are my host I will defer to you on this matter." He stood up straight and looked very seriously at Sereno. "I would have you know that most people invite me to dinner first, but since this is a special occasion, I will let you skip to desert this one time." His face broke into another one of his mischievous grins.