Completed Opportunity Knocks

[Inoadar]

xxxxxxx37th day of Fall, 514

Inoadar

Inoadar had no real doubt that Doctor Mazetti's shortages of materials was entirely legitimate, but it was not of the type of applications a poisoner was focused on. He sighed, recalling the many times he'd reminded himself that an area of research WAS benefited by research into its opposite spectrum. His own success into making his toxins resistant to the natural antidote, Jile, was largely due to his developing skill in beneficial medicine. Up until recently, he'd only learned the workings of the body's systems in order to undermine them. But then again, that was pretty much the same lesson wasn't it?

At any rate, he'd been asked by the Doctor to procure a large number of materials to restock the NMSS, his home-away-from-burned-down-by-his-own-hand home. It was necessary to keep the NMSS profitable until he could re-establish his own shop. Once he accomplished that, he'd bring Vera back as well. She was enjoying the elaborate poisoner's lab at the NMSS, and she would enjoy the same outfit at 'New Ino Vations' too, once he got business arrangements settled.

In fact, they were settled. Construction had been underway since basically the start of the season. If not for his own exacting specifications, it might have been completed. But he'd insisted on reinforced walls for a few of the chambers. The Ice house for one. The cold would require less restocking of ice, if the chamber was well insulated. So twin walls, with some sort of hardened foamy stuff between. He didn't honestly now what the stuff was, but friends in the food storage trade swore by it.

Then there was the detention area, hidden behind a door that would be, itself, concealed by a bookshelf in the office-to-be. This was actually arranged by his nemesis-of-old, Norvis Barton. Inoadar was glad of that. He was the one man Inoadar trusted to be able to keep the fact of the hidden door secret. Anyone noticing that the length of the building didn't seem to equalize from inside to outside, would be told that the area behind the office was an extension of the ice house, which was locked at all times, for safety reasons.

He doubted that anyone would be taking measurements anyway. Those who needed to know, already knew about the existence of the holding cells. They were the ones underwriting the expenses, and they fully approved, understanding the need for those committed to research to able to count on their test subjects being unable to...escape...their obligations. His underwriters would be benefiting from this research as well.

But all this was just to occupy his thoughts as he made his way to the Healing Hand. There was no better place for him to get the materials he needed. Of course, the directors of the Healing Hand would charge him full price for these items. But he understood that. He was in indirect competition with them. Even though The Healing Hand supposedly only offered goods and services to citizens, and the NMSS supposedly dealt with the "riff-raff", there was considerable overlap of clientele. The doctors here were less magnanimous than his own Doctor Mazetti.

Inoadar rolled his eyes anew at Mazetti's overextended generosity. It was the main reason he ran out of supplies so quickly, though it DID have the benefit of generating loyal support from the lower classes. He was just about to expound upon the futility of hoping for any benefit to come from making friends among the poor, when he realized there was ONE thing the poor were good for. There was quite a crowd of them amassed around the Healing Hand. And they looked and sounded angry. It was a mob scene, the one thing the poor could be counted on to do well.

In fact, they looked to be on the verge of outright rioting.

x

[Inoadar]

Inoadar

There was too much shouting to learn exactly what the issue was, but Inoadar could see a few people he'd seen at the NMSS. It supported his speculation that this was an issue regarding citizenship requirements.

He rolled his eyes. 'How long will it take for these fools to realize that Ravok does not acknowledge obligation to those that reject Rhysol? Why should this city extend anything to them?' His anger mounted at the thought. It was one of the main reasons that he felt no regret over the ways that he exploited the parasites that came to the NMSS for help. 'They enjoy his protection, his provision, his stability and moderate weather. He gives them a place to stay, yet they can not deign to give an oath of loyalty.'

He scowled at the disloyalty, but quickly stifled it as a few faces turned his way. It was not as if he was going to begin preaching at the ignorant fools. But by his view, they got what they deserved. He felt everyone got what they deserved. if there seemed to be injustice, it was only because the sufferer had done something in his last life to bring the retribution forth into his new one.

This was the primary rationale he used to feel no guilt over his exploitation of anyone, anywhere, anytime. In fairness, he was not inclined to carry grudges over single transgressions committed against himself. It was when they became a pattern that he would seek a "permanent" settlement of the dispute.

This now came into play as he pondered the best way to make those supplying the Healing Hand with materials pay for whatever transgression they had committed that was going to be balanced out by his theft of a crate load of goods from them. Citizen or not, oath or not, all were subject to having past sins balanced by "Mr. Nolan Parnell, Instrument of Fate's Justice."

His point of view seemed entirely supported by events when the brewing hostility erupted into the very riot he had seen coming. Someone with sick child in their arms, friends and supporters shouting down the medics at the facility as 'heartless', a shove, a push back, the child spilled as the parent is shoved to the ground, several swung fists, reinforcements and reprisals, pandemonium!

Inoadar saw his opportunity, making his way around the edges of the melee, he knew the Stryfe would be there soon to quell this outbreak and collect the instigators for a few evenings of "reorientation". Time was short. He needed to act quickly. He also knew, from past experience, that there would be some interns huddling in the back that would be able to identify him later if he simply stole the goods right before them.

As he made his way around the perimeter of the violence, he saw a man with a fairly distinctive coat, a slightly heavier build and graying hair. Inoadar grinned. Luck was with him.

x

[Inoadar]

Inoadar

The subduing of the man was easily accomplished on the outskirts of the riot. Inoadar satisfied himself that the man deserved no better, seeing as he was sanding to watch, but offering no assistance. The poisoner found it easy to rationalize that the man enjoyed watching the action, but lacked the conviction one way or the other, to get involved. He was about to become involved however, for Inoadar did NOT lack for conviction.

His conviction that standing near a fight invites the possibility of being sucked into it. That doing nothing while it goes on around you invites others to involve you in ways of their choosing. That not being helpful and useful to anyone involved invites you to be helpful and used by others also choosing not to be involved.

Inoadar would be the first to acknowledge that anyone else would be entirely righteous to try to exploit his presence as well. They need only try it, to see that his brutal reaction was done without personal malice, for all the good it did them.

Chalk was cheap. And crushed into powdered form, it was quite effective in synthesizing the gray-haired look. And anyone could fake a heavier build. Especially when one has their own jacket available to wrap around their own midsection. And puffing up his cheeks to go along with a quickly modified posture served to present the image of an out-of-shape old man, just like the target of the blow to the head he'd just delivered unnoticed with a convenient brick.

He stripped the distinctive jacket from the unconscious man and stepped through a side door into the hallway leading to the stockroom. The Stryfe guards were all dealing with the melee out front, but Inoadar knew more would be arriving soon, and the posted duty guards would return. He hurried, to find the door locked. It was a nuisance, but one he'd anticipated.

He'd already established his breathing rhythm, and relegated it to a back portion of his awareness, reaching instead for a measure of his pulse. Each thrum became a capsule of strength that he amassed in his spine, intercepting the bodily djed force on its way to the shoulders and arms. Flux training, even the modest portion he'd received, allowed him to send an unnatural degree of this power to his right leg. This was stabilized with extra endurance, maintained in his lower spine, hip and left leg, as he reared back and kicked the door in.

x

[Inoadar]

Inoadar

The intern inside the stockroom squealed and backed against the wall. Inoadar put his finger to his lips, and nodded slowly, throwing the hem of the "borrowed" cloak aside to brush the handle of his dagger menacingly. The intern swallowed hard and made as if to zip his lips shut, while mirroring Inoadar's nodding.

Inoadar then pointed at him, then at the floor, and placed his steepled hands against the side of his head as he tilted it sideways in the classic indication of "going to sleep". His glaring eyes softened as the intern nodded again and lay down on the floor.

inoadar took a quick look around and let the intern see him placing packets of various herbs and processed medicines in the pockets of the jacket. Miza value was as important as function to the poisoner, making Burn Salve, Sundyra Water, Chadast Oil and Hista Balm prime targets. There was good call for the anticonvulsant, Filan Essence, as well as the Sleep aid, Iskyny, which also served to boost the effectiveness of many other compounds.

For his own use, he grabbed some Berridon, a wide-application toxin, and some Calgonquit powder for meditation and mental focus. Doctor Mazetti, not knowing the way in which Inoadar was planning to obtain these goods, had asked him to pick up some Dalmis powder, Elentai and Belltor. There was too much risk in taking actual gear, since much of it was etched with the "HH" emblem showing it was the property of The Healing Hand, and not the NMSS.

As he left the stockroom, Inoadar loosened both the outer jacket he'd stolen from the old man he'd assaulted outside, and his own jacket, which was wrapped around his midsection to fabricate the appearance of extra body weight. As he stepped into the middle hall, he transferred much, but not all, of the items he'd liberated. He bunched the borrowed jacket under his arm and slipped back outside into the fray.

He quickly shook most of the chalk out of his hair, straightened his posture and put his own coat, filled with a decent haul of medicinal value, back on. He tucked the stolen coat, with its incriminating stash of about a quarter of what he'd taken, under the arm of the groaning man as he started to get back in touch with consciousness.

By the time the man had fully awakened, it was mostly due to rough, Ebonstryfe hands seizing him and placing him under arrest for theft, the intern vouching for his identity. He would no doubt be questioned for the names of who he'd given the rest of the stolen goods to. But this was HIS problem, Inoadar reasoned, as he made his way back to the NMSS.

Doctor Mazetti was delighted. Inoadar decided there was no reason to burst the cheerful fool's bubble.

x

[Nemesis]

Inoadar

Skills	*	*
Disguise	*	+1
Intimidation	*	+1
Flux	*	+1
Larceny	*	+1
Philosophy	*	+1
Subterfuge	*	+2

Lores

* Disguise: Use of Chalk

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Consequences, Injuries, Expenses, and More!

• Various herbs to make medicines, most all for the NMSS.

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Consequences, Injuries, Expenses, and More!

• In here
• And here

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• Not much to give for this thread, which is really annoying because it was such a fun thread to read!
• Really well done, lively little solo