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Application for Jarlaxle, "Forgotten Realms"

Jarlaxle Baenre never settled into a place for too long unless he had learned a few details first. Cross dimensional information gathering was a bit trickier, but Kimmuriel's dimension door could be coaxed with the right coin and some new psi stones. The name of this place had gone over the planes, so it was hardly unknown to him when he slipped into Hogsmeade, Agatha's mask making him look like just another wizard as he listened in on conversations and gleaned information. Finding a few house elves too was even better, turns out they can be easily bribed with clothes. Some of the freed house elves in Hogsmeade were now very well dressed. It was how he got his information on Hogwarts and a cheat sheet on the parts of the application informing him of things not commonly found in Faerun.

At last his moment was right to finally set foot into the place. Artemis had already abandoned him in Memnon, Athrogate was catching up on old times, Kimmuriel was grumbling less about his position; it was time to do a bit more exploring.

A pair of high boots clicked loudly over the stones into the sorting room. A black-skinned elf of five and a half feet tall walked in wearing a cape of swirling rainbow colors and a large, purple hat with a large plume. He wore an eyepatch over his left eye, though switched it to his other eye a moment later while checking over the room, showing both his eyes were healthy. He was tempted to wear his favorite vest, though a little more tact was needed here so he wore a white, flouncy swordsman's shirt with an embroidered black vest.

He walked with an air of nobility as he approached the table and picked up the quill.

1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?
"I have very varied tastes, though that does not make me a food snob. In the Underdark I enjoy a richly aged rothe cheese, the kind with a deep yellow hue best served with sweet mushrooms. On the Surface, there is a cheese commonly called blue cheese that is delectable with pepper sauces."

2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?
This was one of those questions the house elves had helped him out on, telling him Barney was a purple dinosaur from bad children's theater and Carrottop was just bad theater.

"I would have to say Carrottop. I appreciate Barney's costuming, making something as horrible to behold as a giant dinosaur and making it cuddly. I have to applaud that. Carrottop is just a bad bard and there is one thing that picky patrons due with really bad bards."

He made a slashing motion across his throat with his slender hand

3. What time is it where you are?

"I believe it is early morning, for when I awoke from Reverie the lady who entertained me last night is still there. Or it's early evening and I wore her out."

4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.

This one he got hints from during his time in Hogsmeade.

"Lily Potter strikes me as the perfect lady; strong, just, gentle and strikingly beautiful, the perfect fair skin and soft hair. I would likely woo Tonks as well, I admire her strength. I love a woman with a bit of a fierce streak."

5. If you are pushing to be in:

A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.
This was a difficult one. Ever since he took regular residence on the Surface he had heard so many witty bar names.

"The Pink Pearl," he paused and laughed. He was not referring to jewelry.

B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.
"Marry? Whyever would he want to do that. I say he should court both Fred and George, treat them to dinner, satin sheets, and jasmine oil, and remain a happy man. If he tires of both he is free to move along. As for mythologies, I think marriage is a myth in itself, so there you go."

C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.

"Because you are dedicated to your business, it is your life. Paperwork is the only downside to such business, besides being turned into something nasty, (a friend of mine named Dinin learned that too well...*shudder*). Though think of the spoils, the wealth, the power; it all works out in the end."

D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.

Jarlaxle gave a loud cackle.

"Useless, who me? I merely lead a band of male mercenaries in a city where women ruled absolutely and did so for over two centuries. The fact I have been able to take a break when so many men in my band have died horribly and after thwarting several attempts on my life, does tell you something. I have commanded liches, caused kings to give pause to my demands, and have amassed wealth and power beyond anyone's wildest dreams shows I am capable of a few things."

6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.

Jarlaxle's grin widened. He spoke many languages, but he was especially versed in the language of bribes.

"I can offer you something that will truly make you happy. I have mounds of jewels, thousands of magical items, hundreds of warriors at my service even now, but what do you really want? A higher position? Women? Men? Business opportunities? Say the word, my friend, everything is negotiable."

I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ____JB_____
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. ____JB____.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. ____JB____.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. _____JB_____

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What the fuck was with all of the tall house-elves infiltrating Hogwarts? Sirius had his suspicions that Kreacher was behind all this, the little piece of shit.

However, Jarlaxle didn't seem like a wanker, at least not from his application, so Sirius decided to give him a chance. At the very least, one had to respect a creature who hailed from a city where women ruled. Not that Sirius had anything against women -- on the contrary, he loved them very much -- but having them rule over you was quite frightening.

"You've got impeccable taste in women, I must say," he remarked after approaching Jarlaxle. "However, if you're looking for a truly fierce woman, might I recommend one Molly Weasley?"

Jarlaxle gave a tip of his hat at the compliment. The mention of Molly Weasly got his thinking a little. From what he had heard, she was an older, rather plain human of not the greatest appearance. Though he had felt dirtier complimenting Matron Baenre's wizened appearance; flattery was still flattery.

"Alas I had not thought of Mistress Weasly," Jarlaxle said. "I have always seen her as a handsome woman, though your words of her truly pique my curiosity. Truly fierce? Do tell my good man."

He chuckled. "Let's just say that while I don't particularly fear her wand" -- Sirius never doubted his own magical skills -- " I wouldn't want to find myself on the wrong end of her mouth."

...which didn't quite come out the way he had meant it. "What I mean is that she has a very sharp tongue," he quickly corrected.

Wait... "In the most figurative of senses."

That potential disaster taken care of, he continued, "But I reckon you might be better prepared than I for such a woman, given your background."

Jarlaxle paused after his "figurative of senses" game a loud, dirty chuckle.

"A dangerously sharp tongue, that is my kind of woman," he said with a residual laugh. "Oh I am sure she is an angel compared to the women of my home city; horrid, humorless creatures all of them. Believe me, if you spent enough time around my mother, a little sharp tongue would be music. Though my background has given me the experience to really cherish such strong women. Delicate flowers? Not for me. I enjoy a challenge."

All right, the whole giant house-elf thing aside, Sirius recognised a kindred spirit when he saw one.

"We must be long-lost brothers, then," he quipped, although there was a very distinct note of truth in his voice. "My mother's tongue was sharper than a Basilisk fang, and far more venomous. Good thing she's rotting in her grave now, the wretched bitch." Sirius's voice now had a sharp edge of its own.

"And I must further agree with you about the fun in finding a strong, challenging woman." Sirius would know; his girlfriend was one Lily Evans Potter. "A tulip might be pretty, but wilts within minutes after you pluck it. A rose, on the other hand, may have thorns that pierce the hell out of your hand, but its colour will remain vivid and its petals robust for hours, if not days, after its plucking."

Wow, he was really waxing poetic, here!

Jarlaxle gave a smirk and nod in agreement.

"Maybe your mother is roasting in a nice corner of the Abyss with my mother," he said, though he supposed Matron Baenre was enduring an eternity of tortures from the spider bitch she slaved for. "That woman was pure poison and poisoned all her other children...well myself not included I would like to think, iron-fisted bitch. Though I have to say I admire the rose for having soft petals and not just a stalk of thorns as the women of my home city are. In places far and wide there are the thorns, but the petals give the plant its true beauty."

'Poisoned' all her other children? That rang all too true for Sirius as well, and for the briefest of moments, his smile faltered as his traitorous mind forced him to recall how his mother had had a direct hand in creating the ultimately uncrossable distance that had grown between him and Regulus after his, Sirius's, first year at Hogwarts.

But if there was one good thing that all the time in Azkaban had done for Sirius, it was the way in which he had learnt to shove unwanted thoughts out of his mind. In Azkaban, those had been good thoughts, things that made him happy, and subsequently brought the Dementors, with their rotten breath and soul-squeezing chill, upon him, but the same techniques worked for the bad thoughts that threatened to bring the same sort of depressive cold into his heart even now.

The brief moment of inner gloom passed, and he replied cheerily, "Hopefully horizontally, with a nice, sharp spit up her arse!" Which was a much brighter thought for him.

"And yes, I must agree that it is the soft petals that make the ordeal with the thorns worthwhile. It's a shame the women where you come from aren't much more than the stalks, but I can assure you that this is not how it is here at Hogwarts." He paused. "Well, perhaps in Tootsitramp or Bitchiwitch House, but I reckon the other houses have got true rose gardens of their own, so to speak."

Jarlaxle gave a hearty cackle at Sirius' spit comment. It was a mental image of old bitch Baenre that tickled him deep down.

"I have come to appreciate petals and I am sure there are all varieties here, my good man."

Sirius nodded his agreement. "Any particular place you'd like to do your picking?" He had all he needed; no bribe was necessary. "You seem like the Slytherin sort to me, but I'm glad to vote you elsewhere if you prefer."

And for once, he didn't mean that in a bad way. Slytherin wasn't his cup of tea (despite the fact that he was now a member of that House), but he had come to learn that belonging there didn't automatically slap a 'TOTAL GIT' label on someone's forehead. Jarlaxle had the interest in money, wealth, and power, but that didn't necessarily make him an idiot. Indeed, he and Sirius appeared to have much in common.

Jarlaxle gently tapped his chin in contemplation.

"In truth I can think of no house I would prefer," he said. "I believe I can so most creative things in any house I am sorted in. So I will leave myself to the fates...or the decision of the school"

He hid his smirk at the thought of what house wars would be like here.

Sirius barked out a short laugh. "Well, I certainly can't promise a rational decision on the part of the school" -- after all, the Sorting Hat had gone 'round the twist several years before -- "but I can do my part by casting a vote. And indeed, it really is what you make of it."

Sirius truly meant this; as a former Gryffindor, but now-Slytherin, he had to.

The recent dissipation (finally!) of the shapechanging spell left Jezz in a fairly good mood as he went up to the doorway of the Sorting Room and used his familiar to look inside before actually entering, as per the habits he was trying to reestablish here (if the Spider Bitch herself took it into her head to turn up - an idea which he considered less insane by the day - he would at least have warning).

He had never been to Menzoberranzan himself, and House Jaelre as a whole had left the city before the visible rise of Bregan D'aerthe, but word did carry and after some thought he matched his observations with the descriptions of its leader.

Tzirik's friend was one of them. The bodies in the hidden room in Minauthkeep-

Keheneshnef reestablished itself around his arm and Jezz came in as discreetly as he was able. He hung back for the moment, took a copy of the application, and stood half-reading it and half-watching in silence, waiting for the other to notice and perhaps make the first move.

Jarlaxle mingled around the room, passing by one of his own race. He kept his expression calm though was truly curious about this one and his persuasion. Maybe Hogwarts had drow, maybe he was someone from the old neighborhood.

The drow passed by and he rubbed his fingernails on his shirt before stretching his fingers and making subtle signs in hand code to the dark elf.

Greetings, he signed, What brings you to this fine place?

Self-improvement, he signed back as he lowered the application slightly, his expression neutral. A new angle on the Art. And what brings you?

"Yet another adventure," he said out loud, putting his full attention on Jezz with a smile. "Another thing to bring more excitement to my centuries."

He took off his hat with a sweeping bow, revealing a smoothly shaved head.

"Well met, I am Jarlaxle," he said with a beaming grin. "So tell me, kinsman, where have we traveled from to end up in such a fantastic place?"

He inclined his head slightly in response. "Jezz of House Jaelre." As he spoke he unconsciously shifted the weight on his braced leg. "Sometimes called the Lame. I am sure you can guess why.

"I have no idea where you came from," Jezz deadpanned, "though my guess would be Menzoberranzan. I began this particular trip in Cormanthor and it's quite the list in between."

Jarlaxle looked at the brace and acted surprised. "No, never would have guessed," he said with a light smile.

"You guess Menzoberranzan?" he continued. "Why my accent must be that thick, or else the rest of me is that obvious." It was clear this one recognized him, which could mean good or bad things considering. A part of his mind did remember a description Valas gave during his debriefing. "Cormanthor, eh? How goes the effort up there?"

"You did give your name," said Jezz. "It was hardly a stretch. 'How goes the effort?'" he echoed in feigned ignorance. "There are so many efforts in Cormanthor. It's grown popular again all of a sudden. Could you perhaps be more specific?"

Jarlaxle gave a small bow.
"I suppose my reputation proceeds me, though to m sudden recollection yours is also travelling far, not among hostile circles I assure you. I guess I do know what effort you serve, so in that case how much have your men progressed in the Elven Court."

Further recalling what Valas told him, he knew this question could result in drawn swords, so he kept a few daggers ready in case things did turn nasty.

"It's certainly not as traveled a reputation as yours, of course." An edge entered his voice in spite of himself. "Oh, progress has been excellent, especially considering certain setbacks." Setbacks like the intruding fey'ri and the crusading elves and Lolth's creature and the Eilistraeens (until quite recently he would have had the Eilistraeens top of the list) and, oh yes, Tzirik's evisceration (Bitter? Him? Certainly not). With all that totted up, progress could be argued to mean "not dead," in which case he was indeed doing excellently for the moment.

"How does Master Hune fare, do you know?" he asked, covering the sharp edge with a thin layer of sickly sweetness. "My cousin always spoke well of him. Surely he was not so well thought of by a priest of Vhaeraun that it meant his death at the hands of spider kissers?" The idea had spun up in his mind once before, and he'd dismissed it out of hand with the (perhaps dubious) reasoning that Valas Hune hadn't been left in the room, torn apart with the rest. The initial storm of shock and anger had calmed, but he still put no stock in the suggestion. No matter how well Tzirik had spoken of that one, Jezz was not inclined to think well of him (And then, to his chagrin, Jezz started to consider if he might have been mistaken about that as well).

"Marvelous," Jarlaxle replied in his usual cheery tone, though completely reading the edge in his voice. This one had an axe to grind though it wasn't due to him.

"Master Hune?" he said, tapping his pointed shin with his finger. "I have not spoken to him in a good while. Over drinks in Sshamath I believe. I have not seen the old boy in too long, my loss for leaving Menzoberranzan." He gave Jezz a pointed look, making it clear he was stepping aside from any responsibility for this mess. "Alas, my condolences for your poor cousin" He removed his hat and placed it over his heart. "Tragic, and I mean that with all sincerity" his own voice taking a harder, more pointed tone. "Though from what Master Hune did tell me a certain Mizzrym wizard sicked a certain Baenre draegloth on your poor dear cousin for his own purposes. A horror that personally sickens me and none of my men, whether under my watch or Captain Kimmuriel's, would see that happen to anyone we called friend. There is a measure of loyalty among rogues, a fairy tale I personally would like to believe."

Jezz leaned against the wall, acting casual, as he threw out his next question with a lazier air. "If none of them would see that, does that mean he looked away?" Though he was somewhat more willing to acknowledge these words and the possibility of their being some part truth, he wasn't about to swallow them whole.

"I would believe that tale," he added, thinking of the respect his own held for him, "but I'm not so foolish as to think that measure means that some bond holds true between all of them."

"It means he was likely occupied with other things at the time, likely two gods doing battle as he told me," Jarlaxle said. "Though I am sure being as good friends as they were, it is a sight Valas might not want to have seen. I will say my band is a random lot, mostly under the influence of the spidr bitch even though she spits at all of them. Unfortunately most have not known the sense of loyalty and brotherhood your band has known from my understanding."

It was hardly words of longing to join the masked crew. He couldn't care less about the Masked Lord and his minions as long as they didn't make anything difficult for him.

"Ah," said Jezz. "Unfortunate indeed."

If they had been such words of longing, he would have greatly suspected them in any case.

((Repost for reword))

"What do you do when the 'pink pearl' isn't pink, huh?" Chiana throws him a saucy grin. "Love that hat, by the way."

Jarlaxle took a look at the beautiful creature in front of him and gave a sly smile.

"Well color is merely that," he said, motioning to his own coal-black skin. "Black pearls, white pearls, even the rare blue pearl, I guess you could say I'm an...admirer of a fine, supple pearl." He smiled and tipped his hat. "Why thank you, some people say it is too garish, but I am one who does not mind standing out a little."

"Aren't we all," she says, winking. "I'm a fan of grey pearls myself. It goes with so many other colors so well. Sort of like black, actually." She laughs and cocks her head to the side. "It fits you. Besides, why blend in when you can stand out so well?"

"I cannot say I have seen many gray pearls myself," he said, leaning in and letting her get a closer look of his bright red eyes. "Rare beauty, I would say, the most special kind. As for me, I have always loathed the concept of normality; walk to my own drummer as the saying goes." He removes his hat with a flourish showing his bald head and sharply arched white eyebrows as well as his sly smile.

"If you ever get an itch to see one for yourself, you know who to call." She isn't put off by a bald guy with red eyes--hell, her former fiance (http://www.uncomyngifts.com/Main/Recreation_Room/TheLivingShop/Photos/dcp_0532-400V.jpg) had tentacles sprouting out of his face. "Normal is overrated. I say do what you frelling want--and from the sound of it, you've got that down."

"I shall certainly remember that," he said, putting his hat back on with a flourish. "And if you want to see some fine black jewels you will know where to find me. And oh yes, no one controls me at all."

"I'll remember that. Listen, once you're out of here, feel free to look me up. Chiana, in Slytherin. As far as I know I'm the only grey girl here."

Jarlaxle tipped his hat with a happy grin, this place wasn't so bad after all.

"Charmed," he said. "And I'll not forget that."

Wednesday took one look at the flamboyantly garbed drow and began to chuckle, not unpleasantly.

"Well met, sir bravo," he said, clapping his hands slowly. "What sorts of services do your mercenaries offer?"

Jarlaxle offered a grand bow with a wide smile.

"Well met, good sir," he said. "As for my band, whatever service you need we can provide; bodyguards, soldiers, scouts, assassins, name your poison they are a group with many talent. What they are not is cheap to acquire."

(( so sorry for the lag! ))

The Hat sized up the new arrival -- the new arrival and his fabulous, fabulous hat.

"Give me ten minutes alone in a broom closet with your hat and you can consider yourself the newest resident of Hogwarts School."

Now was that a deal, or was that a deal?

Jarlaxle smiled at this proposal, rather amused at the thought of his hat having intimate relations with a talking hat. Maybe his hat could be as sensual as he was. For a moment he was concerned about the few items he kept in his hat, though he could be without them and have Kimmuriel bring him more.

He smiled and whipped off his hat in a grand gesture, though palmed the diatryma feather and reached for another feather inside the hat and replaced the two in a second. He knew his fashionable hat would be an excellent bargaining tool, so he kept a plain feather inside and slipped away the feather that could summon something rather nasty creature.

He presented the hat to the sorting hat with a wide smile.

"Enjoy yourself," he said.

Your bribe has been accepted!

Welcome to Slytherin! You're just too stylish to go anywhere else!

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Application for Jarlaxle, "Forgotten Realms"

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Vote: Slytherin

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Slytherin!