RP:Sniff Them Out
Summary: Eirik pays Senatorial Candidate Cadenza a visit and ends up agreeing to bring those Flewminati down.
DeVere College of Bardic Arts
After finding your way through the Topiary Garden it would only be fitting to happen upon a building which looks like a section taken right out of any castle in the same style as all of Schezerade, in all its decadence; marble forming the entirety of the large building accented with gold and platinum in which you'll have to cross over a glass bridge in order to reach it. The front door is welcoming for all shapes and sizes that are the citizens of Hollow and spans a great distance in its solid French Door of a design. Opening it up one might be perplexed at the ability for the fortress to hold such music coming from the two story main hall with all of the astute students practicing their talents within. Once immersed, the eyes might be stolen by the gaping cathedral ceilings above, spotted by gold and platinum in which encircle mini glowing stones to mimic the night sky, but beauty is not only what the ceiling is for; it carries one's voice in the most pleasing fashion. This area is quite a vast oval-shaped grand hall, but nearly every space on the marble walls are shelves, carved into small diamond shapes. Each slot contains a scroll to nearly any song someone might wish to hear or practice in it's magic. Among the marvelous white-wood, gold-accented, concert grand piano in the middle of this large room there are a plethora of nearly every musical instrument imaginable, one just has to look.
Off to the west of this area are exits to the wondrous courtyard beyond, north holds the kitchens, dining hall and secret passageway to the wine cellar. The second story, easily reached by one of the staircases hugging the curved walls leading to a balcony within the hall, one will find many doors leading into teaching rooms; some of them lecture halls and performing arts rooms. At the northern peak of the oval main hall at the second level any new students are directed to the offices where any and all are encouraged to apply.
Raven would be found out beyond the courtyard where the campaign headquarters is located and Corvo working with some student volunteers. Some of them mentioning how worried they are about Professor Lanara and how exciting it will be to take the flying coach to see her tomorrow. Raven seems calm cool and collected, but Corvo seems a little on edge or like someone peed in his cheerios. Some students gossip that they overheard Raven shouting about him purposefully misplacing her mail, but the thought of Raven raising her voice at anyone was so odd to them now. One student is hesitantly asking another if they should be changing all the posters to Raven’s last name at which Raven looks up from a large notebook that looks like some type of diary - was it even her own? Teal eyes fix on the students, “no…” She starts and the bustle of the room dies down to listen to her calm velvety monotone, “if we win… It will be in the spirit of Miss Smyth.” The silence screams in the room and it’s punctuated by Raven’s conclusion, “so the posters will remain the same.”
Eirik isn’t just some northman who dresses well to flirt with the locals in Schezerade. Despite what some of them believe, after the Yule ball of yesterday. And much to his dismay, a few also know of the man from his violent display in Schezerades tavern. His acts were merely in defense of Lanara, but they were in full view of the public. The berserkers gait is long, whilst his full height stands within the ironclad grip of armor. Strong and enchanted - a mixture of items from Larket, Frostmaw and Venturil. The three places he is most strongly tied to. Though soon, Venturil will become the home he calls his own. Once business is settled. True to the rumors, Eirik still carries sword and axe, both hanging from leathers straps at his left side. A leather wrapped, centrally held, dome bossed and wooden round shield hangs from his back. He is truthfully a man of action. Those steps carry him towards Raven and her campaign headquarters. He had business to settle, though it is merely over things he had agreed to in the past. Calloused hands reach up to withdraw the spangenhelm style of helmet from his grim and scarred visage. Though he might look like some blackhearted raider of the north, his face is familiar. Corvo, is eyeballed mockingly - perhaps Eirik peed in his breakfast? He would of course, wait, presumably where Ravens guards made him. It seems that she has gone into seclusion. “I’m here to see,” his voice falters for a moment, trying to recall the name. “Raven.” Like always Eiriks voice is heavily accented, riddled with grit and grain.
Raven sighed boredly as a couple of the guards look on edge by the sight of Eirik, “relax ladies.” Those avian secret service aren’t ladies and actually are all men, but they irk her so much. She’s used to always being alone when she was alive the first time - by choice. So getting used to someone having to pretty much wait outside her bathroom while she really needs her privacy was grating her last nerve. She motions to the office labeled Candidate Smyth and when she went to open the door her manicured fingertips gently touch over the nameplate, but they are followed by a guard. This is fine. Once Eirik would close the door behind them - or not that Veretian accented monotone asks, “how is Lanara? I got her letter today… Even when it was addressed nearly a week ago.” A glance to the door or doorway recalling her verbal disagreement with Corvo. “I have gathered a group of students that wish to see her tomorrow.” How is she going to transport that many??? College secrets~! Heeled steps take her around the desk there and she sits behind it at the large leather office chair there.
Eirik :: Once the Northman is finally permitted to see Raven, he tucks the helm beneath the pit of his arm, pinning it to his side. The clanking of armor, weapons and booted feet breathe life into thoughts of movement, his stride near marching. The door to her office, is actually closed behind him. It appears the berserker much prefers his privacy too. Raven would most likely enjoy that, despite the single guard who enters. Eirik isn’t here to hurt them all. Only, instead of halting a few feet beyond some desk, he marches straight up to it and sets the helm down. Gods he’s rather forthcoming isn’t he? Finally he turns to regard Ravens comments - a smile spreading of his scarred features, breaking that mask of taught strung hatred upon his visage. “She’s actually doing much better! She was injured a few days ago, but resides in Kelay with Yerrel the healer.” He gives the name assuming Raven would know who this person is. She obviously knows that Eiriks been around the town. “And I’m sure that she would enjoy that.” He nods further confirming Ravens thoughts towards taking students to see her. “Just keep them on good behavior. She’s been on a bone regrowth potion for the last couple of nights.” Once this topic has been closed off, giving her Lanara’s location as well, he switches. “I’m not really sure how this all works, Raven.” Eirik waves off a hand, indicating that he doesn’t need an explanation of who or what Raven is. Brennia no longer existed, which is fine. “But Brennia had received my aid in protecting the bards here. I’m sure there has been a note or something left for you to explain? Regardless, the clan has fallen apart, and I’m not sure that Constantine still remains. So while I am here, I will provide any assistance you need with this, Flewminati group.” He delivers a mouthful of news to the candidate.
Raven’s expression doesn’t change and she seems to stare off into space for a long moment, “there has been so much information thrown at me lately, but I vaguely remember something about that. Before I surfaced, Brennia and her bodyguard at the time rescued a young student from the depths of Candidate Drafts hotel, who has been rumored to be a primary brother within the Flewminati. The young student had come forth after a few weeks and made everything she went through known and then went back home with her family for the rest of the year to recover.” There was silence, a glint in those teal eyes. Although she has nearly no Bardic power anymore her words are heavy, they hang in the air and raise goosebumps on the skin, “scum of the universe and of I ever find his hiding place it will be his end. He’s launched attacks on this college, on Brennia and attempted to drag her good name through the mud.” Raven slows down, takes a breath and her monotone stopped sounding so dark, “she may have taken it in stride and grace, but enough games…. I’m too bloody old for games.” She actually looked and sounded exhausted now, “when I am through, no one will fear the Flewminati or their ridiculous name.” I don’t know about Brennia, but back in Raven’s day it sounds like she was not one to be effed with.
Eirik is true to most of the stereotypes that try to carve out his character. He is known to prefer a healthy violence within life. To seek out his enemies upon the field of battle, to splatter the world in the blood of foes like flicking a drenched paint brush. So this Flewminati group, has his attention. After defeating Thronnel with Talyara to save Lanara, he sought more. Yes, he had been soft recently, but that is a side dedicated to his more delicate half - it will always be that way. Here, Raven is greeted by the warrior whom he truly is. But now, his ties to realm wide threats are gone. His clan duties are forthrightfully over, and he but only serves to save the witches who remain in Larket. He had pledged himself to that despicable King to keep his access for the right time. Her words draw a smile upon his visage, twisting the scar within his beard. “It’s good to see that you want to bring an end to them.” He gives a nod to Raven half amused by her comment of age. That’s something he could agree with himself, though age has only sharpened his determination. “I’d like to help you root them out, if you’ll let me?” He let’s that question hang in the air for a moment before clarifying. “I do not mean with blood-baths, if it can be helped. But I have a few skills, mainly a nose.” His well calloused digit taps the part he is referring too. “As a Lycan, my ability to track, is quite high.” Even Frostmaw had used Eiriks tracking to their advantage when they sought to find more information on the drug cartel that had entered its’ city. “It won’t cost you a thing.” The offer is extended because frankly, Raven has enough on her plate. And perhaps she knows enough about Eirik to realize that he takes pleasure in this type of thing.
Raven doesn’t say much; people call her cold and I don’t get why… She looks down at an open ledger in front of her and starts flipping a few pages back, a quick lick of her digit and she’s flipping more pages. She pulls up a pair of large round gold rimmed glasses which make her look even more like some old lady. A purse of those shapely lips as it seems that's the only thing that’s shapely on this woman anymore and a hum like she was thinking. Pulling free a small ring of keys she scoots her chair out and leans down to a locked drawer within her desk and starts rustling around with something. While we are waiting on her - wolf boy, avian’s don't have a scent, anyone near an avian will only smell their favorite scent so there is nothing to track there… Alright, Raven finally found it. She pulls up a vial of clear looking liquid, but once it’s shaken it bubbles into a murky pink color, “I’m no entirely sure this will help. This vial causes the one who drinks it to pass out for a time and any information you try to get out of them is useless afterward. From what I gathered in these witness accounts is that every Flewminati member carries one as a failsafe, some would actually rather die than give any information about their organization. So, if you can track this,” she leans across the table and sets the potion down next to his helm, “then anyone holding this will be a member and you better make sure they don’t get a chance to drink it.”
Eirik nearly frowns once Raven proffers the vial. He hadn’t thought about the nuances of tracking an avian. It’s true, a favorite scent would only deliberately make things more difficult, as they would all smell of it. Flewminati members or not. But this liquid does interest him. A calloused hand collects the vial in question. It did have a strong enough odor - this brings a smile to his features after an inhalation of air. “Might I hang on to this for reference?” This is his indication that such a thing would work. That Eirik could indeed track it. “I’ll be sure to get you someone soon. When that happens, where would you like this, member delivered?” The Northman does not know Schezerade that well. Raven would know exactly where to place this supposed member he catches.
Raven folds those large onyx wings neatly so she may lean back on her office chair and then heels cross atop her desk. She seemed too relaxed, too dangerous and to some that may be intimidating on it’s own in her confidence. Again, one must wonder what a life this Raven must have lived before she was killed and forced to lay dormant on Brennia as her tattoo ink - which is all gone… Peculiar. “Keep it, I’ve gotten a few.” Looking expressionless once more, “it is not my job to see justice done. The two we have caught since I came around were subdued and sent to the chamber of raan so the senate can decide what to do with them. Since Vermillion Draft has disappeared I trust they are no longer under his threat and they have been seeing justice done for their deeds.”
Eirik doesn’t know enough about the late Brennia to pass thoughts on Ravens expressionless features or tone. Truthfully such things didn’t matter. Raven, is rather straightforward and as such is welcome to continue to chat however she deems worthy. Eirik himself prefers to list what’s needed and then move on - cold or not. Though the missing tattoos are rather curious, but not enough that he must have an answer immediately. “I see.” He gives no further thought to this all, and tucks this vial into his pocket. The search would begin soon. “Beyond this talk of terrible rebels and groups. I didn’t really have the chance to properly congratulate you.” Yes, he’s referring to the awkward dance before half the realm. “I hope, your team hasn’t been causing much of a fuss over it?” What an odd change of topics. Eirik grabs his helm from her desk, which he so rudely placed there anyway and tucks it beneath his arm. He had no more questions. If Raven needed something else, now is the time to bring it to life.
Raven seems to nearly scowl, “they can get bent.” Her feet click back to the hardwood floors and the guard in the room clears his throat to which Raven only fixed him with a stare for an awkward moment, “you’re pushing it, Ursula.” The guard goes to mention that is not his name, but Raven starts walking by him toward the door while flatly saying, “I don’t care today.” Does she care any day? She opens the door, “congratulations to you as well.” The thought of Niall forcing her to speak in front of judges secretly makes her want to shove the guy’s head in snow… “Corvo is lucky I didn’t maim him for entering my name.” She smooths the fabric of her blazer, “it was informational. I’ll be seeing you,” she gives a sort of bow/nod thing and heeled steps take her out of the office to get back to work.
Eirik finds himself laughing. It was good to know that the other crowned winner, didn’t really want to win. He looks to Ursula and smiles. “Be glad she’s calling you Ursula. I’d have named you Chastity, or Cherry.” He shrugs and then gives Raven a nod. “I’ll be seeing you soon.” With that, the Lycan is gone, to go check on Lanara. Mounting a black wyvern just outside of the school. His helm is donned and a spear is pulled from its side. And then, they were skybound - vanishing from sight.