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Considered one of the most mysterious cities in Mizahar, Alvadas is called The City of Illusions. It is the home of Ionu and the notorious Inverted. This city sits on one of the main crossroads through The Region of Kalea.
Rana was still kicking herself mentally over the delay in finding the Alchemmia Alchae-come on, Rana, five days? You know Alvadas better than that! At least, you should...it's been thirty-three years. But when she finally found it, she knew that there was something interesting about the brick wall she'd paced by three times already. When the half-blooded woman turned to face the section of rusty red brick, she realized that it was the very same section of rusty red brick wall she'd intended to find several days ago. Advertising several odd jobs, a man named Kuvarakh instructed her (and any other people interested) to visit the alchemical shop. In all her time in Alvadas, Ranayel had never actually had occasion to visit the shop.
She stepped in the door-oh, the doorknob had decided not to exist. No matter. The Silverleaf woman had dealt with things like this before. If she moved her hand three inches to the left and took a deep breath in, held the breath, and kicked the door, it should swing right open. This was a door-opening method that Ranayel had discovered by accident after scaring the doorknob on her front door away, though it only seemed to work when the door didn't actually have a knob for whatever reason.
And the door did indeed swing open, though this may have been due to the man who swung open the door right at that moment with nothing to do with Rana's attempt.
Rana waited for the man to step through the door before she herself entered. When the curly redheaded woman glanced around the store, she was mesmerized. Brown eyes gazed around, taking in every single detail of the new place that had been presented to her.
In fact, the matter of Kuvarakh had completely slipped Ranayel's mind. This meant when a man who looked suspiciously similar to the man who'd advertised at the Sanity Center offered her a seat, she was shocked. How long had she been here?
"Oh! Um. Hello, Kuvarakh, my name is Ranayel. But please call me Rana-no one besides my mother still uses my full name!" Chuckling, the half-Isur woman wrinkled her nose at the thought of anyone calling her by her full name. There was something ridiculously formal about Ranayel Silverleaf Terras, and Rana, who considered herself an informal person, was not okay with it on a daily basis.
Sitting down in the chair by Kuvarakh, Rana cocked her head to the side. "Well, I'm not here to place an order, unfortunately. I'd rather make money than spend it. So I suppose I should be the one asking what I can do for you!"
”...a Nuit?” Aislyn couldn’t believe it. The man hadn’t been talking about transferring a Nuit, he’d been talking about transferring himself. It all made sense now, and everything fell perfectly into place as he kept talking. This was the opportunity of a lifetime.
Aislyn had always been the naturally curious type, even to the point where it put her in danger. Her fearlessness towards other races probably came from the Zith blood in her system, but the lack of fear also helped to boost her curiosity. If she didn’t fear it, she wanted to learn about it. Nuits were one such thing.
While many people seemed to treat the race with fear or unease, Lyn wondered about them. Much like the other exotic races of Mizahar, such as Isur or Dhani, the girl had almost no interaction or way of learning about the people outside of Alvadas. That’s why, when the opportunity came to learn, she always jumped for it.
”Yes, I am, in some ways, an artist. Not a very good one, I assure you, but I can paint and draw quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”
Kuvarakh then began peppering her with questions, mostly about her artistic ability. Lyn thought hard about that, knowing that she didn’t have the best skills but still wanting the job desperately. When he showed her the runes, though, Lyn found her determination to achieve blossom. ”You’re right, I don’t know much about Nuits, but I’m willing to learn. I’m also willing to try the glyphs, maybe practice them beforehand, make sure I’ve got them perfectly before attempting.” It seemed like a good enough plan in her mind, trace the glyphs into her notebook and practice copying them until they were perfect. Shrugging her backpack off her shoulders, Lyn drew out her notebook and, placing the piece of paper with the glyphs underneath it, began to trace. As she drew, Lyn explained what she was doing.
”I know I can’t trace the glyphs onto skin, but if I draw them in my notebook, I can practice drawing them until I get them perfectly…” There were a lot of glyphs, but tracing took a lot less time than copying and required no skill, so in a matter of chimes, Lyn was done. She labeled each glyph with it's purpose, then sketched a drawing of a body on the next page, hoping to map out which glyph went where. With her knowledge of Nuits, she knew their bodies could detire quite quickly, so she needed to know everything about transferring a body before attempting it, just in case Kuvarakh wasn’t there to help.
Once she deemed the notes usable, she presented them to Kuvarakh, asking without words if she had done it right. She had put tiny X’s all over the body sketch, one on the forehead, one on each shoulder and hand, two on the torso, two on the legs, near the feet. She knew they were probably in the wrong places, but it was better than nothing. Besides, Kuvarakh hadn’t described them well, so she couldn’t place them exactly. On top of that, she didn’t need the notes straight away, as it didn’t seem like the man was going to drop dead at any second. Then again, you never knew.
”I know they’re in the wrong places, but it’s just a rough sketch. I’d like to know everything about the process, for both curiosity reasons and so, if you can’t help when the time comes, I can do it myself.”
Lyn knew she was expecting a lot from nothing, but it certainly seemed like the man needed help, especially of Aislyn’s type. She was being overly helpful, to the point of annoyance, but her curiosity and stubbornness was what was driving her at this point. Even more so, when Kuvarakh mentioned a self-proclaimed ‘Haunted house’.
”I’d love to come see this house of yours, ghosts included. It sounds like quite the adventure, and an exciting one at that. No promises on any of my work being masterpieces, but I’d love to tag along.”
Last edited by Aislyn Leavold on July 21st, 2014, 2:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
At the man's words, Phobius' cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. Kuvarakh had gone ahead and introduced himself, even though the boy could remember his name from the chalk writing back in the Sanity Center, and yet he'd completely forgotten to say his own name in return. It was bad manners, and an even worse way to start a potential friendship. Employer-ship. Whatever this would end up being. Eager to make up for his blunder, the boy was quick to tell the man his name, along with a muttered apology and another absent-minded grip on his scarf. Truthfully, what he wanted the most at the moment was to just pull his hood back over his head and hide his face as much as possible.
As he continued to speak, Phobius listened with the focus of a student listening to a professor's lecturing. He admittedly wilted a bit with the man's quip about experience, of which he was sure he had none, but brightened again soon after when he said that the job wouldn't be complicated. Difficult, but not complicated. It could work; he felt that he'd do a lot better at something hard, because all he'd need to do was continue to try. Everyone could try. Difficult things were...difficult in that they required a lot more...thinking-power and strategy and...other things that the boy wasn't so great at.
Messenger...?
Phobius blinked at the word, mentally repeating it and getting his brain used to the sound of the word. If Kuvarakh hadn't been standing right there, staring at him, he might have said it out loud a few times just to get a feel for it on his tongue. "Courier" sounded like a better word, to be honest, and Phobius was assuming that they, more or less, involved the same things.
Delivering messages and goods...the boy took a moment to let his mind wander and envision what that would be like. He could see himself exploring the city, dashing in and out of alleyways and running up steps and ducking in buildings. After a while, the place's tricks would no longer work on him, and if they did they'd be a lot less effective because he'd know where he was going; he'd have a clear feel of the city and how it worked, how it moved and breathed and schemed and toyed with its inhabitants. No more getting lost turning a corner, no more forgetting where he'd gotten a snack. Not only all that, but being the pseudo-mailman would give him the chance that he wanted to meet as many people as possible. It'd be his actual job.
In the eyes of most, the occupation would probably be considered something menial, something simple. But Phobius was a simple person with simple needs. In his eyes, the job sounded wonderful and undeniably fun.
"I think it sounds great!" He exclaimed, his amber eyes ablaze with a joy so bright it seemed to light up his entire face. "I can do it! I'll be the best, fastest messenger ever! When do I get to start?
"Speech" | Thoughts
Last edited by Phobius on June 23rd, 2014, 5:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Note: Unless otherwise is stated, Phobius is almost always wearing a blue-beaded bracelet that alters illusions around him based on his mood. That can include player-made illusions. c:
Well, it appeared Rey's gamble paid off. The "Nuit" caught on quickly, and was quick to reassure Rey that he had nothing against his kind. Interestingly, Rey could sense none of the fear he normally did with people who knew what he was, especially those who had had encountered Dhani before. And this Svansan he claimed to have met... Neither that name, nor that of Licear were familiar to him. Likely not of the Eyktol nest then.
Then Kuvarakh stepped pass him to lock the door, and Rey's interest, and suspicion, was increased. Shifting to keep the Nuit in his sight, Rey was prepared to sacrifice his clothes and shift, just in case it came down to violence. Of course, he thought dryly, it was much more likely the Nuit was going to want something... less than legal.
He glanced down at the Nuit's pink hands when they were mentioned, and finally realized what it was that had caught his attention earlier. His hands were... stiff, and the flesh itself seemed to be hardening. Was that what always happened to a Nuit's body after extended use? No, it seemed to only be his hands. Some sort of disease then, or something magic related. Hopefully not contagious.
Rey frowned in confusion at the mention of the Underground (What Underground?), grinned at the Nuit's disclaimer (savage and violent described his constrictor cousins well enough), and bit back a smile at Kuvarakh's brief rant (seemed like there was some lingering resentment there).
Finally, he got to the proposition he had mentioned. And what a proposition it was. Search, rescue, and murder. Oh, he could call it execution all he wanted, but would no more change what it was than calling Rey a constrictor would make it so. And speaking of which...
"What if I had been a constrictor?" He asked, curious and amused. "I doubt broken ribs make for a good body. Or a rattler? They have poison, but they can be a little... club happy." He grinned impishly. "Lucky for you, though, I happen to be a viper, so you, my friend, are in luck."
Which, he supposed, brought them to the technical side of this job. "I'm afraid I don't know much about your kind. What do you want from this body? Do you want the bite somewhere hidden, or can you fix it? Does it have to be human? I'd like to do this right the first time. And would you like me to come back at some time, or will you come find me when you find a guide for this "Underground"?"
Kuvarakh almost felt empathic pain for this kid's self-consciousness. But that was all the more reason for the job. The primary portion of the time spent, out of every run he gave him, would be on his own, with no one necessarily watching him, other than the odd bystander. If he took longer, due to the probable back-tracking and head-scratching, there would be no one to make him feel conspicuous.
And as he got used to finding his way around Alvadas, he would become increasingly less self-conscious and increasingly more confident. And Kuvarakh had not just been making nice with the comment about setting up his own courier service. If not for his affinity for alchemy, Kuvarakh may have done the same thing. It was a perfect fit.
"Well, you can start right now." the Nuit said, smiling and tossing the youngster a pouch with fifty gold mizas in it. "I'll pay you in advance this time, just to get you going. I won't always pay you in advance; it will depend on the job. Don't get too excited, most of those mizas are for what I want you to pick up for me. I want you to go to the Bizarre...uh, that's sort of the public market here...anyway, go there and pick me up as many Iskyny leaves as you can for thirty five of those mizas, you can keep the remaining fifteen as your pay."
His eyes narrowed as his look went past Phobius, unfocused with a slight frown. "Hmmm...I think if you start to the northeast, you will be able to judge which way to go by the random direction showing itself to dip down and flip to your right, in opposition of gravity. The sky will follow this twist as well, but it tends not to show until you get there..." His frown increased as he tried to recall an important detail. "...What was it?...Oh yes. Look for big clusters of roots coming up out of the ground. They may or may not have dirt adhering to them. Don't touch them though, or you may get...disoriented. That is, you may find yourself in the trees they are connected to, instead."
He seemed to collect one last thought, "Oh...yes...The market should be easily seen after you pass the roots." He hoped so anyway.
Kuvarakh was actually glad to hear the woman downplay her skill with inks and charcoal. It meant he didn't have to worry that she would turn out to be exaggerating at a time when accuracy was crucial. "Oh, it doesn't have to be like a master portrait painter's quality, miss..." he paused to get her name. "It's only to give me the ability to picture a concept, so I can...well, never mind, we're a long way off from that."
He didn't want to mention that he would be using hypnotic skills to convey appearances of room layout and decor to the Towers Mansion entity, as a means of trading ideas with it on how work could, or should, be done. He was not that eager to mention his ability with the mind power. Many people sought to persuade him to teach it to them, and he did not trust that many of these prospective students had the most noble intentions with a mind control power. However he DID do it now and then.
He changed the subject, getting more in-depth with his Nuit glyph requirements. "Well, Maya, you may be needing to learn sooner, rather than later, if my hands get much worse. My boss, Wanda, there..." He nodded toward an attractive, middle-aged woman, attending the alchemy ring in the back room, still involved in a transmutation, the djed stream spinning fluidly around its circumference. "...is an accomplished glypher, in her own right. But she was unable to grasp them fully when it...uh...was quite important."
He did not go far into the details of the infestation of stone eating bugs that Kuvarakh had been largely responsible for creating. In his effort to undo what he'd done, he'd been attacked and had his body mauled horribly. Wanda's efforts to perform an emergency tracing of the glyphs, employing her own considerable skills had resulted in very imperfect transference. It had been several seasons before Kuvarakh had been able to fully imbue his control over the body. And even then, it had been marginal at best. There was a flash of light, signaling Wanda's completion of the activation.
"Any practice you can do in this direction will be greatly appreciated, Maya. It wasn't until my third or fourth transfer that I realized that I didn't even know how I knew the glyphs. After that transfer, I thought it would be smart to copy them down. but I found that I had no idea how to do it. The knowledge was strangely gone. So the next time, I copied them down myself first, before doing the real transfer. They seem to sort of manifest their images in my mind when I intend to do a transfer. Nor do they correspond to any other schools of glyphing I know of. They are completely unique."
Another customer entered and Maya kept adjusting her sketches as he took the order. Wanda had finished up by now and walked slowly through the door, clearly spent from the activation. She looked at what Maya was doing and raised her eyebrows appreciatively."Not bad...Not bad at all. But once you get him out of these special odor-absorbing clothes he's had made, your eyes are going to water so bad from the smell, you won't be able to see to draw."
Wanda's sense of humor was obviously not slowed by her alchemy efforts, and Kuvarakh gave her a good-natured scowl, followed by a wink."Wanda, this is Maya...Maya...Wanda. I was thinking of taking her out to the Mansion and see if we can apply her artistic skills in some way."
Wanda became completely serious. "Are you crazy? That place tried to kill me! Don't go honey, it's an old, old house and I swear, it only likes other old things, like our hundred-and-fifty-year old man here." she indicated Kuvarakh, who rolled his eyes, waiting for an opportunity to speak."It was throwing things at me, making the rugs slide out from under me and hitting me with doors! All I did was go into trophy room."
"Yes! After I specifically told you NOT to leave the main central part of the structure. I TOLD you the wings were..,.unstable. And, besides, Aceren told me that HE was the one doing it, to keep you OUT of there before you got into REAL trouble!"
"Yeah...sure..."unstable"...CRAZY is more like it!" She raised her hand, forestalling further discussion. She, as well as Kuvarakh, were so used to this subject that neither of them thought to clarify that "Aceren" was the name which the mansion called itself. "Anyway, you can't leave now. I'm exhausted, and we...rather, YOU, still have to do the tiles for the harbor office. They really liked the shell-look you did for the housing commission, and want the same look in their floor tiles."
Kuvarakh sighed exaggeratedly, "Never a moment's rest...Well, I'll tell you what, Maya. Go to the Sunken Conundrum, and look through some of the books and see if there are any sketches indicating historic events. Copy down a few of them and bring them back, I'll give you ten gold for each, assuming that they are expertly done." he said with a joking scowl of perfectionist expectations.
Mr. Ekans did not seem to care one way or the other about the word games Kuvarakh played regarding his intent to benefit from the justice he expected to occur. If Renate was held captive, this man Kirby, and any new associates he may have gathered, were unlikely to allow anyone to take her away uncontested. According to Nyxie, the Womiyu had Verek and Kirby up on enough charges to warrant several death sentences.
Kuvarakh knew damned well he was rationalizing a killing, but he truly did not see it as murder. What had been done to his daughter a century ago; THAT was murder! And it was the main reason Kuvarakh could suspend his ideals where crimes committed against innocent young women were concerned. But it didn't appear that Mr. Ekans was going to call him on the semantics anyway. Instead, the man asked him about the hypothetical changes in his plans, resulting from dealing with alternative branches of the Dhani species.
He shrugged, "Were that the case, I would ask him to drown the man without crushing him. There is, supposedly, some pool or pond or something down there." he said in response to the proposed 'constrictor' agent. As for the 'Rattler' variety, Kuvarakh's eyes focused back on some incident in his past. "That is what 'Mr. Swanson' was." he seemed to register something the viper before him said. "Club happy' you say? Hmmm...I never got that impression."
He did not elaborate on the hypnosis he'd used on the snake-man, to make the rattler more 'peacefully inclined' toward him. There was also the matter that the people of the village had not displayed much tolerance for non-humans, so there had been an almost immediate need for the two of them to guard each others' backs. It was not until later that they had learned of a pirate Dhani named Rassasydar,whose brutal exploits were largely responsible for the villagers' attitude.
"You know, it's somewhat ironic...It was a Dhani pirate on the Suvan Sea, a viper, like yourself, that threw Mr Swanson and I together, in an environment where our various departures from human normality made us rely on each other. He attacked the Svefra vessel we were aboard and damaged us enough to force us aground. I have no doubt that this Dhani pirate had his own issues with intolerance."
He waved dismissively, "then again, maybe he was just a vicious bastard. At any rate, this rattler, Licearsvansan, and I, came to an understanding very quickly and helped each other out on several occasions. It soon became a moot point, as a crazy witch-woman, herbalist, fortune-teller, came and advocated for us. Of all things, she called herself 'Kharma."
He started to laugh. "I guess the villagers were more scared of HER than they were of us! I lived there for a few years. Then Mr. Swanson and I...parted ways. I came here, and he went...his own way." Kuvarakh got a distant, somewhat melancholy look in his eyes. One might even guess that he missed 'Mr. Swanson'.
He caught himself reminiscing and refocused on the present. "Well, of course, if you do not have to kill him, this 'Kirby', then don't. But IF it should become necessary, AND you are able to select the place to...inject him...It would be best if it was out of sight, but I CAN do some cosmetic adjustment if I need to." He got a pained look, "just TRY not to get him right in the face, okay?"
Mr. Ekans had a couple more questions for him, and he answered as best he could. "This Kirby IS a human. I will have my friend give a better description of both him and the location of his...hideout. I will send for you when I find someone else that knows the Underground. My friend was running for her life and did not take many notes. She had a Kelvic hound leading her out, until...well never mind. I will get back to you about this. I'm not sure how long it will be."
He thought suddenly of his new "courier' and smiled. "Keep an eye out for a brightly red-headed messenger." Kuvarakh didn't know if this Dhani was familiar enough with the Inarta to make the connection. "He will be sent from me. No offense, but I assume you are staying at the Wolf's Cave?" it was as much a statement as a question. He grinned, "I will have to tell him to be careful." OOCIf you want to make another post, feel free, but I figure Kuvarakh's part to be essentially done.
Ranayel :
The woman before Kuvarakh was clearly not going to sit upon formality. He gave an answering look that was as much grimace as grin. "I do not use my last name much either. I don't know if my ancestor's name was originally "Lashman", but he WAS the disciplinary officer on a ship in the old Zeltivan Navy. That was supposedly before the Valterian. I am Zeltivan by birth, although the body that this mind was first born into is a good hundred years dead. I am a Nuit, if you didn't already guess."
Many Nuits went to great lengths to hide their "condition" from the world at large. Kuvarakh probably would as well, if he traveled. But he was practically an institution in Alvadas. Everyone here knew who and what he was, and had long since gotten over any apprehension about the racial need for a chain of dead bodies to inhabit throughout the years of their existence. He had accounted for every body he'd inhabited, and not one of them had been the result of a conveniently "hastened" death.
He knew that the arrangements he'd made just the day before, with the Dhani he called 'Mr. Ekans', tested this claim. But this was not something he felt necessary to bring up with every random individual that entered 'Alchemmia Alchae'. The man, 'Kirby', was a kidnapper, slaver and killer. Kuvarakh knew perfectly well that the very fact of his repeated justification for his intent toward this man suggested very strongly that he did not completely buy into it. But Kirby deserved to die, and Kuvarakh needed a body. It seemed that fate was aligned to provide.
He shook off this line of thought...again...and forced a smile across his face. He held up his hands. They gave the impression of being formed of pink porcelain, though still somewhat flexible. "Well, Rana. there is a steadily growing ledger of tasks I can use help with these days." he knocked his right hand on the wooden counter. The sharp rap seemed to lend support to the impression of porcelain.
"I've recently gained some help, so I'm unsure what sort of assistance you can give me, but I have no doubt something will come up. I have gained the services of a sketch artist and a courier, as well as a sort of 'odd job' specialist." He did not elaborate on the nature of the job he'd acquired 'Mr. Ekans' services for.
"I don't know if you are aware of the Towers' Mansion. I am doing some work out there." He wanted to see if she reacted with apprehension at the mention of the place, before attempting to explain his "connection" to it. "Do you have any skills relating to construction or decoration. That is my most immediate need. If not, I'm sure I can find something. Even sweeping up dust is useful, if not particularly glamorous."
She seemed to sag somewhat. He gave her a sincerely sympathetic look. "Look, don't worry. It's not as though I expect you to jump on the opportunity to become my 'shoe-lacer', but the fact is, such matters have never been such an imperative to me. You just don't realize how even just the loss of a little flexibility affects you until it happens. Do you live nearby? Where you could be sort of a quick-call assistant? I must admit, I do not recall seeing you before. And I've been everywhere but the Underground. Are you new here?"
As he spoke, he picked up a rag and approached the window. There was a large crack in it. He grimaced humorously again. "Perhaps you could be official fly-swatter. I forgot how hard my hand had become the other day when I went to smack a fly on the window. It's funny though, I can still cut myself on the glass. But...I need to be able to pierce my finger to activate the alchemy ring, so I suppose I ought to be glad." OOCYou're one exchange of posts behind the others, so we're not quite done...lol
Last edited by Kuvarakh on July 7th, 2014, 3:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
Well, it seemed Aislyn had gotten the job. At least, she thought she had gotten the job, from the quite interesting show that went on before it. She had met Wanda, who Kuvarakh, from the friendly joking that went on between them, seemed to be good friends with. Wanda seemed fairly nice, with a strong sense of sarcasm, granted, but she still seemed nice. She was also obviously experienced, as, though Lyn hadn’t noticed it before, she now saw the brilliant light being cast over the walls as Wanda worked her magic. Or, what Lyn could only guess was magic. Either way, it was impressive.
When Kuvarakh finished talking, she realized that he trusted her, an almost complete stranger, to draw glyphs better than an extremely experienced glypher. Lyn couldn’t decide if she should feel guilty or proud. She was leaning towards proud, though she didn’t show it. She seem like a downright shyke if she looked like she was bragging about it to Wanda. Anyways, it didn’t seem like she missed the job much. With a flash of light, Wanda had finished her… Whatever she was doing.
Kuvarakh kept talking, though, unfazed by the lightshow that had happened on Wanda’s part. She assumed that must have happened a lot, which, in a magic shop of sorts, it probably did. It was only when Kuvarakh addressed her by her name, or rather, her illusion’s name, that she realized he really did believe her to be her disguise, Maya. Realizing she had introduced herself as her illusion, Aislyn made a note to herself that, eventually, she was going to have to tell him. Or maybe, show him. She couldn’t keep the illusion up forever. Not because there was a time limit on it, which there was, but because eventually, Lyn would forget to put on her disguise and come to work a complete stranger. Not the best idea.
Once another customer came in, and Kuvarakh was replaced with Wanda, Aislyn returned to her notebook, pruning her sketches, despite the woman watching over her shoulder. Usually, she didn’t approve of people watching her draw, but since the sketches were so important, Aislyn really needed a second opinion. It was only when she mentioned odor absorbing clothes that Lyn realized she was joking. She smiled at that, but continued working. Soon, Kuvarakh returned, scolding Wanda humorously with a wink. He mentioned the mansion- The one Lyn had taken an interest in- again, causing an upburst from Wanda.
It seemed Wanda didn’t quite like the house, as, according to her, it had attacked her. Lyn highly doubted that, but kept quiet, as you never knew with the city of illusions. Besides, it seemed the house had been given a reason to dislike her, as Wanda had, apparently, broken the rules. The argument continued, and Aislyn felt more like an ignored child than an assistant. Not only due to the fact that Kuvarakh was apparently one hundred and fifty years old, but to the fact that she didn’t understand half the things the pair was saying. Like, for example, who Aceren was, why houses were unstable, and of course, why Wanda hated the mansion so passionately. Buildings weren’t alive, were they? They couldn’t hold grudges, could they?
Fortunately, Aislyn didn’t have to think on the subject for long, as it seemed Kuvarakh had already come up with a job for her, drawing. She had been right coming here. It was the most amazing job she could have wished for, even if her boss thought she was someone who she was not. Then again, it was the same for all workers, wasn’t it? Put on a pretty face for your boss and they’ll like you, right? Aislyn still felt guilty about it, but for the moment, she had a job to do. She gathered up her few things and heading towards the door, waving to Kuvarakh and thanking him for the job. To the Sunken Conundrum she went!
The more Rey heard, the less surprised he got with each new revelation. After a living, talking corpse employing him to "acquire" a new body from the underground of the ever changing city, sure. Why not a viper pirate. Rassasydar... not a name familiar to him. Although, he supposed, aside from the absurdity of having a desert serpent sailing on the sea, piracy seemed a very viper thing to do. He'd have to keep that name in mind. The rest of the story didn't exactly make much sense to Rey, from how Kuvarakh had survived friendship with a rattler, or how they had survived living a xenophobic village, or how exactly they'd gotten a witch to advocate for them. He was also certain there was a pun or a joke in the name Kharma, but he had no idea what it might be. Still, he supposed someone who was functionally immortal would get into a lot of weird situations.
He listened carefully as Kuvarakh answered his questions, then nodded when he was done. "The bite will probably be around the hip or stomach area, if he is normal human hight. I'll do my best not to chew his face off." He joked. "Whoever you send as a guide, please try to make sure they won't stab me when I shift. And yes, I am staying at the Wolf's Cave. I'll try to make sure Korin doesn't scare your messenger off."
Well, that seemed to be it. Rey inclined his head slightly to the nuit. "If that's all, then I will see you again soon. If you need a snake for anything else, well, you know where to find me." After the door was unlocked, he took his leave of the alchemy shop.
Well. Now wasn't this shaping up to be an interesting season.
Ranayel listened intently to Kuvarakh as he described his family history briefly for her. Though history wasn't normally something that intrigued the mixed-blooded woman, there was something very interesting about the man who was currently speaking with her. Kuvarakh didn't keep the Silverleaf woman in suspense much longer, for as soon as the thought that there was something unnatural about him, he informed her of his race.
A Nuit.
Holy shyke, this was incredible!
Rana never thought she'd have the chance to meet a Nuit in the flesh-it wasn't something that happened every day for sure. She didn't know much about the creatures, though she knew for sure that they were very rare and very old-and they usually dabbled in magical affairs. This. Was. Exciting.
Rana dabbled in reimancy herself-she'd been trying to figure out how to get it to work with her glassworking, but the weird stuff that she could produce was still hard to control and the flames were nowhere near as precise as she'd like them to be. Hopefully the magic would come easier with practice-but until then, she was stuck with weird stuff that could come out of her fingers and didn't do much besides burn things.
Shaking her head, Rana tuned back into Kuvarakh's words. "I've heard of it, yeah-isn't that the place that was haunted or something similar? I've always wanted to check it out, but I'm afraid I'll get eaten!" remarked the mixed-blooded women with a laugh. "I'm happy to do anything I can to help you, even sweeping up dust. Leaving someone without help that they need goes against my moral code. I am a glassworker by trade, so I do have skills pertaining to decoration. I live in the city, though depending on Ionu's whims I'm not always close by. " A brief chuckle escaped her lips at that thought. Thankfully, Ionu had been merciful when he'd placed her house-it was almost always in a row of other houses, though her neighboring houses were dull shades of grey in direct contrast to Rana's bright and colorful home.
"I've lived here all my life, though unlike you I have been to the Underground. Interesting place, but not a good spot for a vacation. Most likely our paths just haven't crossed yet." As she spoke, Rana's brown eyes followed Kuvarakh's path over towards the fly and the glass window it was near. She raised an eyebrow-this must have been how he injured himself. "I can fix that, if you'd like!" she blurted out.
Kuvarakh laughed at Rana's reference to the "haunting" of the mansion. "Haunted by ME, to be exact. But it was all an illusion that appeared to have had me back in the historical event where Mr. Towers was murdered. I can only assume that the mansion, which is represented by an avatar that has named himself 'Aceren', was testing me to see what sort of...liaison...with the rest of Mizahar I would make. If I could be trusted to care about its reunion with the world, starting with its home of Alvadas. It has been out of touch for a looooong time."
He was looking into his memories of his recent visits to the mansion. "I am basically doing restoration work out there. But many of the areas of the estate have been victimized by treasure hunters and criminals, who exploited it when it still trusted people. As a result, it will take some doing restoring that trust, as well. I only say all this to let you know that there is cause to take Aceren's warnings seriously as far as staying out of certain areas."
He didn't want to dampen the woman's enthusiasm though. In truth, he wanted others to come to the mansion with him. He felt a sense of community was exactly what the place needed, not just a single, empathetic figure like himself. "But as the more trusting areas of the mansion are rewarded by our fellowship, they will affect their adjoining areas to be more trusting. Eventually, I hope to fully restore the old place's trust."
He was delighted to hear her state her willingness to help with the house however she could. As she spoke, he gathered up the bundle of Iskyny leaves Phobius had brought back a few days before, and checked them against the slip of paper the young courier had gotten signed by the vendor to verify the expenditure of thirty five of the fifty mizas kuvarakh had given him.
But Rana's mention of having been to the Underground caught his ear. He did a quick double-take. "I'm sorry, did you say The Underground? You say you have actually been down there?" his eyes roamed, untargeted. It would be obvious to anyone that this had stricken a keen interest somehow. He paced briefly, then turned back to give her a direct look. "Do you think you could guide someone down there?"
Rana looked hesitant. Kuvarakh was not surprised. By every account, the place was an inhospitably dark cellar of humanity. It was no surprise that the kidnapping victim was said to be held there. "Look, I will not lie to you. It would be a dicey prospect. I have only just recently heard of a victim of slavers held down there. I seek to get her free. I have made the acquaintance of a...talented...man, capable of...dealing with the slaver holding her captive. But he does not know his way around down there. Do you think you could bring yourself to go down there under such circumstances? I would make it worth your while."
He held up his hands, pink and stiffly ceramic-like. "I would go myself, but I would not be much help, I'm afraid."
Last edited by Kuvarakh on July 9th, 2014, 12:25 am, edited 1 time in total.
Intrigued by Kuvarakh's phrasing, the Silverleaf woman looked closely at him. "If you don't mind me asking...the mansion trusted people? As in, a building is capable of feelings?" Living buildings were not something Rana had ever heard of before-most buildings, including her own house, stayed still in one place unless some outside force wreaked havoc on them. Though she hadn't known him long, Ranayel felt that Kuvarakh's word choice was deliberate-why mention a building having lost its trust in people unless it actually had?
She listened intently to Kuvarakh's brief description of the mansion's history, and committed the name Aceren to her memory. The half-blooded woman wanted very much to visit the house when she had time.
"Yeah, I've been there a few times, and I suppose I could. I don't know it incredibly well, though, and I surely don't visit the place for fun. I'd want to meet this talented man before I guide him, though-want to make sure he won't stab me in the back on our way out of the Underground. Many people have died there and I'm not keen on being one." Rana appreciated his honesty-anyone about to go on a dangerous guide mission would want to know before, right? And though she was aware of the dangers of the Underground, it was still nice for the client to warn her prior to setting out on the expedition.
It seemed that the victim trapped in the Underground meant a great deal to Kuvarakh, which was perfectly understandable. If the Nuit was willing-though unable-to go down there himself, then he was a man of good character.
