The Hogs Head

Sandra hated the Hog's Head.

It was a dirty, horrible place, and it didn't even have any good drinks. God only knows why anyone would ever come here - lowlifes and scum will go just about anywhere for a cheap thrill, she supposed. Unfortunately, her contact had requested a meeting here, and his support was too valuable to lose. Sandra grimaced as she realized she might actually have to play nice for once.

Then again, given the usual M.O. of her contact, "playing it nice" might be taken for weakness. And she couldn't allow that. Weakness, even falsely perceived weakness, lead to confrontation. And confrontation was so...tedious. Especially direct confrontation.

Well, whatever happened, she would roll with it. This was a mutually beneficial agreement, or so she hoped, and there should be no trouble.

Alan Wake loathed bars with a passion that would frighten even the most ardent of Aurors. A cesspool of society's dregs, the remnants of an era of barbarism and tomfoolery. Alan was ever the patient man, but not even he could form the pretense of indifference in the face of alcohol induced madness. But this only made it all the less likely that nobody would notice Alan immediately. With his large stature and cold glare, most prying eyes were averted back to their mugs. In other words, a bar was the perfect location for Alan to hold a secret meeting. Hiding in the open. A tactic he had learned long ago...

Alan Wake spotted Sandra Archer after a moment of careful analysis. He made it a point to analyze the environment, even his apartment. It was an important exercise in staying connected and aware of everything around him. His mind absorbed all forms of information from his initial maneuvers. First of all, the Hog's Head was sparsely populated. Of the clientelle, 26 were males, 4 were females. Of the bartenders, Alan did not recognize a single one. None were particularly old, but they watched those they served with a envious grimace as they drowned away their sorrows. Alan Wake averted his attention from them once he determined that none of them posed an immenent... even if they managed to poison the old man.

He walked over to Sandra Archer with slow, deliberate steps. He felt discomfort being out in the open, but he enjoyed taking things slowly. It only made sense- life moves quickly. Alan certainly had no such time limit. He walked towards the woman and took a seat beside her.
"Ms. Archer. It has been a while.

Sandra inclined her head politely. "Mr. Wake," she said, gesturing towards the seat across from her. "Please. Take a seat. It's certainly no throne, but I suppose it does what it's supposed to," she said nonchalantly. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small pendant. It was a thin metal chain tied to a donut like circle with tiny runes carved into the surface. "I've never been one to mince words Mr. Wake...at least unless it benefits me to do otherwise. Do you know what this is?"

"Opulence has rarely suited one such as myself, Ms. Archer," Alan replied, leering at the chair indicated by Sandra's straying hand. He rarely dealt with the woman, besides the occasional interaction reserved for those who taught at Hogwarts. He knew she was a woman of power within the Dark Arts movement, but he never bothered to familiarize himself with the details. When she presented the medallion however, a slight shine overtook Alan's eye. His body posture indicated that he remained as stiff and humorless as always, though his eyebrows slightly knit as he took in the sight, and aura of the medallion.
"From my perspective Ms. Archer, it looks quite like a pendent. Albeit, magical in essence, I suppose you are referring to the aura that surrounds it." It behooved Alan to give Sandra the benefit of the doubt, but already she had managed to amuse up till this point. "I can only assume that it provides the material bond required for either a summoning through the Dark Arts, or it is inbued with the remnants of an Ancient Dark Lord. The possibilities are endless when it comes to objects of such power."

Sandra smirked. "Impressive. Most would need much longer than that to determine anything about this pendant. And even then, they'd more than likely be wrong. But not you, Mr. Wake," she said. She placed the pendant on the table and pulled her wand out of her pocket, pointing it at the table. "You might want to lean back. Diffindo!"

A purple light burst from her wand and struck the pendant head on, but simply dissipated into a fine purple mist. "Reducto!" she hissed. Another light, this one red, struck the pendant and disappeared. "As you can see," she said, putting he wand back, "The thing is quite indestructible. And carrying it for an extended period of time leaves the user with...very odd dreams. Visions, you might say." She arched an eyebrow. "Care to take another guess?"

Alan did not lean back. The variables were all set in place. He understood the reason why Sandra had utilized her wand, but he made little motion to stop her. He knew the item would be indestructible before she cast her spell. It was only fitting, as she saw fit to seek out his aid. His glasses flashed with the colors of each spell as the item's endurance was tested. By the time she was finished, Alan was almost certain of the contents of pendant.

"I must revert to the later of my initial hypotheses. It is indeed a remnant. It has more academically appropriate term, but, present company considered, I would refrain from using the term." To express his point, Alan gestured to the few men that had turned towards Sandra as she cast her dual spells. "I can only assume that the inhabitant is someone worthy of our trust. Why have you called upon me ?" He raised his hand to stop Sandra before she began.
"I should probably warn you now that I have no inclination of providing a host for such ventures. If you believe that the inhabitant is worthy of revival, you will need to convince me."

"To be honest, I have no clue who the...er, resident of this pendant is," Sandra admitted. "I have carried it for some time, but it does not speak to me like the Dark Lord did. Does not feel the same. Perhaps this could be a much earlier one, from before we met, but that wouldn't make any sense."

She put her fingers together in a steeple. "Still, this things very existence means that someone very powerful must've wished to preserve their legacy...without anyone knowing. Such a person could make a valuable weapon, both for my means and yours." Sandra paused to let Alan consider this. "I am not saying we march in unprepared. Whoever this is is obviously very dangerous, and if we simply summoned them back into this world we would most likely find ourselves in a bad position. But if we prepare, if we plan and set up, I believe we can safely call them back, and then destroy them with minimal effort if they are hostile."

"The most viable method would be to provide the soul with a container that it can react from. I can provide such a body, but it is extremely dangerous to allow him a human form. May I suggest..." Alan took a moment to consider his possibilities. If they chose a human soul bearer, then whatever magic the pendant could contain would allow it pose a threat. Not a sincere threat, but a threat indeed. He needed a creature, preferably. A being that would pose little threat, but could easily be contained.

"I would prefer to use a Psittacidae. A rather large one. One that knows enough English to act as the pendant's bearer, and communicator. It would be a simple task for some of your... wizards... to retrieve one. A well-trained one is preferable, but I believe that should not be too difficult for Death Eaters to track down. I care little for your methods, but if it gets results, I have little to say."

Sandra chuckled. "A parrot. Here we sit, with possibly one of the most powerful dark wizards of all time sitting in front of us, and you want to stuff his soul into a parrot." She eyes Alan for a moment. "I like you, Alan - I can call you Alan, can I?" She asked. "Though the Death Eaters are no longer "mine" per se, it should be a relatively easy job to secure a parrot. A large, well trained one you say?" She smirked. "Whoever this is, I hope he is not too embarrassed upon resurrection."

"Ms. Archer, this is not a full ressurrection. This is a precaution against any danger the inhabitant of your pendant may present upon release. And furthermore, I highly doubt that a Psittacidae would be able to recognize its own reflection. Unless further processing power were to be made readily available through the pendant, the concept of self-reflection is difficult for a creature such as that."

Alan's eyebrows shifted slightly she referred to him by his first name. It did not bemuse him to hear his name leave the lips of one without the legitimate power to use.
"Additionally, Ms. Archer, I would prefer keeping our relationship formal."