RP: Jus' an innocent Bystander

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

Summary: An overly-friendly foxkin acclimatizes to a new continent. And somehow leaves a good impression on a hot-blooded cold-blooded mage.

Kelay Tavern

Xzavior saw the slight look and his hand slowly fell to relax at the hilt of the rapier at his side, his face even though his eyes cold now, "I am. A Cryomancer. Which means if I wanted to, I could turn you, along with everyone in here into decorations." A strange threat, yes, but one that still gave the same message.

Thronnel chuckled. Xzavior looked young, much younger than he. Though he knew little of nagas and how they aged, admittedly, he assumed Xzavior was just a boy trying to seem big and tough. "Well now. Do you typically threaten strangers?" He turned away to sip at his wine and cut his venison. "Cryomancy, now there's an art I haven't practiced in a while. One of many I ought to go over again."

Arlyeon is in the process of entering the bar in search of a venture, if only to stop dead in her tracks a few paces inside- having clearly caught the gist of that firm but menacing comment. Emerald eyes flicker over towards the source- at about which point she makes the snap decision to side shuffle towards the message board, and therefore a more subtle vantage point. "Don't want me none of that."

Xzavior looked at him through narrowed eyes. He was way too familiar with that dismissive and superior tone of his and Xzavior was sick of it. Unless he could back it up then Thronnel was not at a very good start. At least Xzavior could get some information about him with that small little admittance. The man was very well trained in a lot of magic it seemed. "Oh? Would you like to spend about a century with me up in Frostmaw? That's where I learned." He offered sarcastically while turning to his own drink with a shorter drink than the other. He didn't like taking his eyes off people.

Thronnel chewed a piece of his venison contemplatively. So snippy. But a century? Hmm, someone was older than he looked. "I don't think I'd need a full century to get back up to speed, but thank you for the kind offer." He sipped at his wine. "And besides, I've heard Frostmaw isn't the most welcoming place for my people." Understatement of the century. "I'd rather not find myself mangled and dropped onto an army encampment."

Xzavior shrugged and leaned back in his chair, "it doesn't seem anyone is all that accepted up there. Though I don't think it would matter to much. Those brutes for warriors don't understand combat to save their lives." Sneering himself at the thought he laughed, "Die with honor. Ha! Die worthless." With another quick drink, he turned his eyes to the foxkin in the corner before looking back to the elf. "I take it you know quite a large assortment of magic then?"

Arlyeon might be ogling the board, but her attention is fixated on the conversation behind her, storing the details for future use. And by the sounds of it, the pair of them were both mages, and didn't have all that much to fear when it came to the passage of time. Faced with prospects like these, she was actually lamenting the missed opportunity yesterday. Scales were generally a warning sign, yes- but at least they were somewhat less likely to lead to cataclysmic casualties to bystanders (deserving or otherwise). “Mmm. No good.” She sits there for a moment, tugging on one vulpine ear as she debates the pros and cons of staying further. That, and ensuring there was a table in her immediate vicinity.

Thronnel smirked. "They can cling to their swords all the way to the grave." He liked this fellow. Didn't take no guff from no one, and had those idiot giants pegged. "I do. I grew up learning natural magicks, but it was never enough for me. I've spent the last few centuries studying the arcane, as well. Some forms of magic still elude me... necromancy, for instance. But terramancy, illusions, divination... these come as second nature to me."

Xzavior had a feeling that the rough patch was past. Relaxing a bit he moved his hand to the table while looking at him with a raised brow and a smirk of his own. The list was impressive. Truthfully he had only focused on cryomancy. What's the point of learning from others? That alone takes effort. That and it was enough to get the job done, "Divination? I would think that that was something more complicated them bringing a dead man to life. Not something I would pass up though. Future gazing could help a lot in my case."

Thronnel shrugged. "Truth be told, I only tried necromancy once, in my youth. Perhaps I will take it up in the future." He offered his hand to shake. "Thronnel, by the way. I live in Larket. If ever you'd like me to do a reading for you, send word to the Red Ogre." Not where he lived, but he wasn't going to invite strangers to his house.

Xzavior took the offered hand and stood along with it, "Xzavior, currently I have been on the road," not really the truth but he wasn't going to tell anyone where he was staying. Stranger or not. "If I need to know what my future holds I'll be sure to drop by."

Thronnel smiled, finished his venison and wine, and stood up. "I look forward to it, my good man. Until then, I bid you farewell." With a glance at the foxkin, he strolled out of the tavern and into the night.

Arlyeon taps at the message board, less because she was actually reading anything, and more because it seemed in tune with where she was standing. Information-wise, she wasn't sure if anything she had heard was valuable- given that strange new lands meant a lack of access to information brokers (and fences), but it had least been informative. She could work with that, as long as she could remember to keep a lower profile. Having failed to see another of her kind, she was beginning to piece together that she was a bit of an oddity. Dangerously conspicuous, as it were.

Xzavior leaned back. With the other man now gone he was stuck to himself. Well, mostly himself. Without looking back he called out, "What are you doing back there kitsune. You know eavesdropping is rude." sarcastically spoken. Well, not too sarcastic. She was new to this place it seemed. He however was not new to the sneak side of things.

Arlyeon 's ears perk up, before she promptly folds her arms behind her back, and leans back far enough that she all but threatens to spill over. It's an awkward position, but the expression on her face seems weirdly at ease, a mischievous smirk painted on fair features, accentuated by pointed teeth, almost luminescent emerald eyes, and shoulder-length cherry red hair (such a dye job) that was basically draped across the table that she was leaning back over. “Bettah part of valour, don'tcha know? Never get between a pair of pointy-hatted harbingers of magic-y doom n' destruction, if ja think they're gonna throw down. S'not good for business, livin' in general, yeah?”

Xzavior gave her a dry look when she made such a stereotypical comment about his wears and his occupation. The fact that he was wearing nothing other than a sword on his hip and an ice-covered arm should have been enough to tell her of how wrong she was, "I'll give you the last part but just because I use magic doesn't mean I use just that by the way. Why do you think I carry a sword." With a sigh, he shook his head and waved her over, "You must be new to these places am I right? Then I do suggest you don't make rude comments to someone right off the bat. There are people prone to hurting others at smaller things."

Arlyeon just grins broader, the expression actually looking a touch uncanny, as though she were perhaps touched in the head. “S'not -meant- as an insult, but a simple state of fact. When mages get in a tiff, it usually means erryone in tha' vicinity pays the price for them being unable ta' keep a cooler head. I've seen more die from a stray spell or something gone a bit too big, than a stray arrow or sword swing. 'N that's despite swords comin' out faster when drinks' involved, ja know?” With a start she straightens up, arms outstretching to either side of herself as she spins in place, and abruptly leans forward on the table in front of herself. “If you take that as rude- you might want to get thicker skin.” She pauses there, before casually putting up her hands in front of herself in a defensive motion, “If it's the hat comment, though- I just keep bumping into you evil mage types either wearing ridiculous hats, or robes.” Such a hypocrite, given she has her own set of decidedly evil-looking black robes stashed in her pack. “I mean, ja are one of them 'rawr rawr' crush the weak mage types, amirite? Or just ...hotblooded.”

Xzavior gave her a slightly amused look when she started going off on his irritation at her comment. He had to admit it was a little confusing. Though her dedication to telling him off was great. Twisting around he faced her with a grin of his own. She wasn't bad company. She kept saying dumb things to the wrong person, but good company all the same. It was funny seeing what he would normally do coming from someone else, "You're still wrong, however. I'm cold-blooded. Along with that, I'm not 'rawr rawr' I'm 'hush hush,' and I have killed more than you have eaten fish, kitty." He also, as a silent point, he took the ice-made rapier and lifted it to show her. As a sign that magical attacks weren't the only thing he used to fight. In fact, he barely used magic in a fight other than for the weapons he made.

Arlyeon folds one arm across her stomach, with her other hand moving to cradle her jaw. “I mean, crushin' people is crushin' em all the same. Even if the reason is to get a bit of peace and quiet, rather 'n sugjugatin' the masses for diabolical purposes. Porpoises. Ehehe, Right. Anyways. Ja can be as lizardly as ya like- doesn't stop ya from being a hothead. But that's okay, s'at least means you probably ain't all that borin'. I mean, wrong, given I'd be a kit, n' not a kitten. But hey, not bor- oh. Oooh.” It's about the point where Xzavior draws that blade that her demeanour shifts, genuine professional curiosity flickering across her features, “ S'at your work, or an acquisition? I mean, notta clue how it holds up in a fight, or the like- but it looks like a fine thing at a glance, and thatsa real trick with an icicle.”

Xzavior shook his head, disagreeing with her again, "I was talking about the style of which I use my magic. Recently? Yes, I used to do it as a show of strength. Now, and my past line of work, no. I was a sort of down low kind of snake." He put emphasis on 'snake.' her other arguments were pretty much ignored but as she started taking interest in his weapon he smirked, "My latest little idea. You see, I work with ice, the cold and everything in between. Which also means I," He flicked his wrist and the blade extended to a five-foot whip with bladed sides that sliced the top of a chair off. Earning him a few sharp words from the barkeep. "Can do that. I can make any weapon I please and they can easily hold up to the real deal. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to bring a hellhound to the ground." That was a story that he would love to tell. Though not something he should say now. Perhaps.”

Arlyeon's reflexes are pretty good. Enough so that her transition from curious professional to diving for cover is pretty damn near flawless, the moment bladed whip theatrics are involved. Sure, it's pretty much unnecessary since it doesn't come that close to her, but better safe than in pieces. In any case, once she's relatively sure the display's done, she pops out from her improvised hiding spot and starts to dust herself off. Her tail seems to be the newfound fixation for her attention, vanity compelling her to ensure it's brushed out, “So, is that pointy thing actually 'forged' ... like an item? Or is that thing like... a, whatsit. Like a bit of your magic, I guess? Malleable and at your whim, and whateva? Y'know, basically a spell.” The difference might be minute in practice, perhaps- but it made a world of difference to the foxkin.

Xzavior looked down at the sword-turned-whip with mild curiosity when she asked that, "It's all magic, but it's still in physical form. I could hand it to you but you'd have a cold sword in your hand. The whole fluid motion and change is a lot more complicated than you may think. It's like freezing and melting the ice hundreds of times within seconds," He got what she was hinting towards though. He could possibly make these and sell them. At whatever price he may ask for. He even had a backdoor plan to 'disable' the weapons if need be. He could work with that. He knew people.

Arlyeon squints at the weapon a bit longer, then whistles appreciatively, “Not quite my style of work, but I can definitely appreciate a good venture. Wouldn't it have..limitations though- since it'd be purely made of magic? Like running out of juice eventually, and just falling apart. Or, if it happened to come near something that absorbed, nullified, redirected, ate ...y'know, magic, as a whole? There's stuff like that around here, right?” That stuff was everywhere, and it was awful to work around at times. “Like is there a physical core? Something to tether all that too?” She couldn't help but be curious- it was in her nature, especially if the subject was of any interest or use to her.

Xzavior didn't blame her for her curious nature but all of it was just giving him a good reason to laugh. She was really dedicated to knowing what made his weapons tick. "Look, it's ice. Fully and truly. The only magic involved in it is making the thing and making it fluid. As far as I know, there isn't any magic nullifying spells and even if there were there would be no way of turning this against you. The only thing you would need is to keep this thing from melting after a while. It doesn't last forever."

Arlyeon hums a bit. The ice was physical, the destructive and mutable qualities more or less magical. It was a similar enough process she supposed, albeit different in nature. But altogether, “Mmm. Neat. So, you'd have a trick dealin' with anythin' that could melt, break, or possibly muddle with da' enchantments, but beyond dat- you're gravy. Since they're deadly little things that are ...relatively speakin', fairly replicable.” She grins broadly. “That really -would- be a neat gig. Tell ya what- I ...uh, deal in things- tinkering as a, uh, hobby you could say, I guess? If you're even lookin' to get into that sorta business, I could use someone with a bit of know-how so I could do my own bits. Especially since I don't know many other people here.” It's about this point that she'd extend one hand out towards Xzavior, in a perfect pantomime of a friendly gesture, “Since I have ya atta disadvantage, ja can call me Trish.” The alias is more or less off the cuff, but she supposed now was as good as any time to pick a name.

Xzavior bobbed his head side to side when she explained it, "In my hands no. I don't enchant it. It's all cryomancy so whatever magic I use on it is always at the moment and temporary. In a sense. In anyone else's, yes there would be that problem." The rest of what she said he found rather intriguing. Just with his magic he could be making himself some gold. Easy enough, he had been doing it for most of his life after all. Moving over the naga went to shake her hand, "You have yourself a deal. As you heard my name is Xzavior. Though, would you care to explain what this 'tinkering' is? Trust me. Whatever you've done I've done worse."

Arlyeon's handshake is a firm thing, the fox vigorously shaking Xzavior's in an overly theatrical manner, even as her other hand is pressed to the center of her chest as a means of emphasizing her personage, “I'm a smith. Sort of. Rather, I'm an apprentice weapon smith, but I've a rather curious knack- that lets me, well, imbue da properties of critters into a weapon. S'a limited thing, since I sorta...avoided the family art for a while to dabble in other hobbies.” She pauses to stage whisper here, “Totally worth it.”, before promptly resuming her spiel. “but it's a useful trick. Take something central to some creature or another- and essentially, enchant it. Itsa' magic, but a more primal sorta thing. Maybe cause of da murder involved. That'd do it.” And herein lies the twist to this entire meeting – Whilst the foxkin is being entirely genuine in her desire for an enterprising relationship, and certainly in the desire to make a quick buck, and practice her talents- she also has another reason for the way this meeting's gone. Specifically, whilst she's a 'tinker' of sorts, she's also a con artist, and a luck thief, with a rather tactile mechanism for her shenanigans. Which is to say, that as she's maintaining skin-to-skin contact with Xzaviour, she'd be passively filching some of his good fortune and essentially granting it to herself ... and likely ensuring that he was going to be having a less than stellar day later. Unfortunate events generally made people more receptive to profitable ventures – and a bit of extra luck never hurt when she wanted to make a killing at cards. It's a game of -luck- and skill, after all.

Xzavior was pretty curious as to what she was doing with the whole handshake thing. Either she was very excited but something seemed a bit off. Sadly for her, he grew up a sneak. Hell, it was his job at one point. All of it. Infiltrating, lifting, reconnaissance, info gathering. Along with that, there was the whole cryomancy part of him. Heat sensory came as a perk along with all that. She would feel her hand growing colder the longer she tried to frisk him. "A thief turned blacksmith. You're good but next time take into account everything you hear from your target. I told you that I've done many things on the low side so you should have thought of that. Also, working with ice should have something to accommodate for heat." He would have done a lot more to harm her if she hadn't of gotten his favour by offering him something at first. Otherwise, there would be something a little more. 

Arlyeon knows when to hold them and knows when to fold them. And at this point, trying the patience of a potential benefactor further was one of those instances she was more than happy to concede- especially since the alternative feasibly meant frostbite. “More like a blacksmith, turned thief, turned gambler, turned blacksmith. I toldja I dabbled. Though ja might be hard-pressed to tell what I borrowed. Actually- gimme a heads up if'n ya figure it out. I been told it's a unique trick. Especially given that I don't have much choice in the matter.” There's that mischievous grin again, even as she's in the process of shaking the chill from her hand. After all, beyond her family, there was possibly only a handful of people alive who had figured out her knack. And she wasn't so certain they were still kicking. “So, got 'n office or the like's to work this out 'n future? I mean, I got some networkin' to do yet, but it'd be good to have an idea of where ta go, y'know?”

Xzavior hummed when she offered him a challenge of discovering her secret, he would but he wasn't too interested in figuring out exactly what it was. As long as it wasn't anything important to him, "If I'm missing something I find crucial to me then I'll find you and figure it out then. I don't need magic or weapons to do some damage to a being." He threatened with a slight smile. "If ever you need to contact me I own a cabin in the south sage forest area. I don't stay there often anymore but I do visit back every so often. So leave a note or something and I'll be sure to be there. Along with any information you need. I know quite a few people around here."

Arlyeon offers a more subdued smile, before bringing her now less frigid hand up to her forehead into a snap salute, “Aye aye, cap'n. N' trust me- it ain't anything you'll miss, I'm nice like that. Though it sure helps me.” Funny one, foxy. “Anyways, I'll be sure to stop by soon enough, though- I gotta ask. Do you know any other smithies in the area? Or well, people who -we'd- talk to in our line of work.” Stage whisper time, ladies and gentlemen, “Da hush hush bits.” Fences, and information brokers, oh my. “Once I know that, I can be on my way, fer now.” There's some card games with her name on it- now that she has her luck, and some of Xzaviors luck to spare.

Xzavior nodded and placed a hand to his chin in thought, "I know a couple. Banto being one, though I haven't seen him in a while. I don't know how deep you plan on getting into all of this but if ever you want to get into some of the more dirtier parts I may be able to get you something interesting from the Underdark. You'll find out about them if you want to join in on it. I can ask around for some more names. There is never a shortage of them."

Arlyeon nods, before she once more twirls in place, her tail sweeping in an arc behind her. A couple of steps are taken towards the door, before she promptly leans her head back and glances towards Xzavior one more time, “Duly noted. My sorta stuff is generally a bit more tame... but if you can get me leads on opportunities- well, never hurts ta know. Information, power, yadda yadda yadda.” Straightening up, and offering an offhanded wave, she simply saunters out the door, with a bit of a spring in her step. That, and a silent prayer a black cat crosses his path, so any shenanigans that may ensue in her absence can be attributed to that.