RP:A Double Blind for Double the Trouble
Part of the The Key to Open the Skies Arc
Blackstone Walkway
Svilfon had spent a long time trying to hunt down the person who harmed Kasyr. He'd stalked the perpetually dark streets of Vailkrin threatening the citizens, torturing some, slaying others... and all he got out of it were denials that the person lives here, denials the person even exists, and flat out refusals to answer. It seems they fear this shadowy figure far more than the wizard's wrath. But this hardly bothered the Sublime Master, at least not enough for him to give up. He's wise, and though impetuous and rash, rarely foolishly so... well, that's not true either. Either way!-, when you mess with his family the remnants of his rationale are washed away by revenge seeking. So giving up on using his reputation to cower the population, he instead enlisted the help of illusionists within the guild; casting a spell or two over him to change the wizard from his normal gap-toothed self to a recently returned undead. Svil had to remove his hat to do this.. apparently the illusionists at the Guild weren't powerful enough to alter the hat to look like anything else, stubborn as it is. Nevertheless, he returns to Vailkrin now, hands constantly twisting as if he were nervous, seeking in the depths of the underground a way to contact the shadowy assassin who left Kasyr so injured. Once again he mostly meets refusal, until at last, days (and a few sacks of gold) later, he is told to come here and wait, and someone will come to him. With no better leads in seeking the elusive creature, Svil followed their advice... and here he waits in tattered clothes, looking like a half-elf who so recently earned undeath from one of the many sources in this dark city, the only sign he is anything different from a normally resting citizen is a gold coin on the ground in front of him, something he was told to do.
Jelko hears the whispers of Vailkrin, it is the entire point of this persona's existence. And thus it is no surprise that word has reached her of a vengeance-seeking wizard, something that had her chuckling with amusement over the matter. When all is settled with Kasyr, perhaps she'll inform Svilfon about the ruse, put his mind at ease and spare Jelko an ambush later. It's these thoughts and similar that occupy her mind as the little assassin slinks across rooftops, as smooth as liquid shadow and silent as moonlight. There is a meeting to take place and her knife-concealing boots carry her there on the lofty highways of Vailkrin until the director's destination is reached. With predatorial ease Jelko lowers herself into a crouch, perched on the edge of the rooftop and peering down upon the elven undead. Gray eyes concealed behind a black-and-white, grinning cat's mask observe the undead's anxious movements, gaze flickering around for signs of a trap. But all seems quiet, the street deserted this time of evening as citizens visit the cafes and taverns for bloody meals. Although far from at ease, Jelko's tension does alleviate enough that she fishes into her pocketed coat for a silver coin, resting it upon her thumb to be flicked into the air, where it spins and sails until it lands at the elf's feet with a metal 'clink'. "You called?" the voice is one of purrs and whispers, a mercurial rasp that is not distinctly male or female, a whimsical nipping at the ears with the promise of either secrets or suffering.
Svilfon adopts with a perfection that'd make many bards jealous a look of fright as the coin lands before him, spinning once, perhaps a mirror to that voice's promise of agony or answers, before it clinks down to rest beside his own golden coin. He looks around, hands tightly grasping each other, the illusion doing a rather good job of emulating flakes of recently decomposing skin raining down like a miniature Frostmawian snowstorm. “I... ahh... was told...” His gaze continues to flicker, seeming panicked, unable to find the source of the voice, “...to come here to discuss...” He shudders as if fearing to speak his next words, less hearing them will solidify an apparent uncertain path he's afraid to walk down. “... something of shadows...” he looks left to right, before whispering, “...and death....” He falls silent, then, the only movement in his sky-blue eyes as they continue to search the shadows, apparently for the source of the voice, but also as a precaution against a coming trap.
Jelko tugs absently on the edge of her hood as the elf stammers, the gesture one of unspoken impatience. Why must they always be so timid when the Cat comes to call? She's yet to put a knife in the ribcage of potential client, it's just plain bad for business. "If you seek Shadows and Death, you are speaking to the correct person. Such is my business. If you have managed to contact me, you are aware of my reputation. You can speak with confidence and without fear, no information you provide will be repeated by myself." From the rooftop, one shadow peels itself away from the rest as Jelko stands, only to take a step off the edge and drop to the ground with unnatural grace. Poised where she's landed, the little assassin cocks her head to one side while peering at the undead man expectantly.
Svilfon jumps a little as he staggers back from the shadow come to life, his eyes going wide as he eyes the hunter. “Your... reputation... yes...” Slowly, with his arms open to show he's not armed, he bends down to pick up the two coins. “A... mirror perhaps of your business, is this not? A request in gold returned with an answer of silver. Ever was the price of a life worth little... but I suppose in a world of sheep, deaths are not expensive... it's only when stalking wolves you must be wary.” The wizard-turned-undead-elf pauses a moment then, having to silently remind himself that he's not Svilfon. Not yet. He had to be sure. To cover up his words he clenches his two fists, one coin in each, before speaking again in a quiet voice. “The death I seek is one such as that... He came here only a few days ago and killed two members of my family... but he is strong... he is... known.” A dry gulp, undead have little saliva. “I do not know what he sought, for I was not there. All I heard was that he wore a fantastic hat and seemed a vampire. He killed the one who made me by burning him to ash, before slaying others like me with his sharp-tipped wand. He called himself The Wizard... It's his death I seek.. I.. I can pay well... whatever price you seek...”
Jelko's head tilts in the opposite direction it had been, giving her the appearance of an owl perched and regarding a mouse. It is a long moment before she speaks, gaze never wavering despite her head cocking. "I know who you speak of. Only one matches your description. You ask for a very dangerous head, sir. Such matters are not cheaply accomplished. You -say- you can pay any price," there is an unspoken 'but' as the assassin's head tilts ever so slightly to eye the rags the elven man wears. "He is of House Azakhaer. The price I was paid to assault their leader was more than most dragons boast in their lairs." Bold-faced lies in every way, shape, and form. "The wizard is no less cheap, for he is a fearsome target and the backlash highly probable. Already two members of House Azakhaer seek me out. It would take considerable gold to convince me to repeat those events. Do you possess a dragon's hoard, to claim his head?"
Svilfon shudders as if in fear, even as he lowers his gaze from that cat-like mask to speak quietly to the ground. “Strangely enough, I do possess a dragon's hoard... at least, by marriage I do, and she won't be needing it any more.” Even as he speaks his voice seems to grows louder, able to reach Jelko with the ease of a well-practiced spell-caster who has learned to cast magic regardless of what sounds assault him“I do hope, though, that the price you got for assaulting Kasyr was worth it; there is no evidence that riches we earn in life travel with us in death, but at least that's a question you will soon have answered. You will tell me who sent you to harm Kasyr,” His eyes return to Jelko, then, blazing from within with a barely controlled fury, “But not yet,” He raises his hands, opening them. Strangely, the two coins don't fall to the ground, instead they float just before his out-stretched limbs, “You will not answer me with words, you will answer me with screams... only then I will allow you to die.” That said, the wizard snarls a single word, causing the gold coin to shoot forward, aimed at Jelko's head, and only a moment after, waiting to see whether she'd evade and more importantly to -where- she'd evade, the second silver coin is shot forth with tremendous force. The illusion spell resists the change in demeanor, keeping Svilfon looking like an undead, but the spells cast emit in ethereal waves his magical signature, betraying who he is to any who know him well, something he doesn’t bother hiding against this assassin.
Jelko hisses a single, "Son of a bit--" before her small form is darting to the left in evasion of the golden projectile... Only to have the second, silver one catch her in the side and send her with a wrenching spin to crash into the building she'd been standing in front of. With a pained stagger, Jelko rights herself, a distinctive dent in the mithril-mesh that lines her coat. She's fairly certain there's more than a single broken rib despite the mithril buffer. The damned elf will pay for that! Yet even as her hands flex to unsheath the claw-like katars from her gauntlets, Jelko's form goes rigid, eyes widening behind the mask. Her whiskers may be concealed with the assassin disguise, but Satoshi knows the wizard's magical signature anyway. "Svilfon!" Where he might have expected his name to be spoken as a curse, Jelko's voice instead carries surprise and... amusement? "Oh you stubborn, volatile bastard, one day you'll look before you leap." A laugh follows before Jelko is suddenly dashing at the wizard, steps carrying her in a dizzying zig-zag until she can get close enough to slash out with silver claws in a frenzied dance of blades. The peculiar thing Svilfon may notice, however, is that even undodged strikes are glancing at best, as if there is no genuine desire to harm him, and her movement patterns are almost familiar. Or would be, if Jelko carried a certain black scythe in her hands.
Svilfon pauses in the middle of preparing his next spell as he hears his name spoken in such tones. He'd expected rage, hoped for fear, desired at least a whisper of alarm to mark the tones of his assassin. But surprise and amusement? Is his reputation really so shattered, after all their talk of dragon hoards? Inside he was strutting from that, but now? He deflates a little, letting the half-cast spell fade as he contemplates the words about being volatile... all this happens rather quickly, before he explodes into action. He jumps left, then right, barely dodging some attacks, others landing fully, cutting his apparent undead flesh without real vehemence behind them. And that movement... it was so familiar, but it couldn't be... this assassin was mocking him with their words, disrespecting him enough not to try and kill him outright, and the final insult, they did it mirroring the lady icicle. This would not stand. So Svil steps forward into one of the clawed attacks, letting it strike him fully in the side, cutting into his vampiric flesh, before he enacts his teleportation, no longer bothering to hide who he is now Jelko knows. As is to be expected by now, his spell causes an explosion of flames to burn in his wake, erupting out with enough strength to injure, but not enough to kill... not without that information he sought.
Jelko is in the midst of another swipe when she feels it. That all-too-familiar shift in the current of magics, that hint of cayenne heat and headaches flitting just on the edge of her awareness. All pretenses are off in that instance, instinct kicking in and screaming at Jelko to get away from the teleportation, so that she adjusts her original swing into a full-bodied twist. A boot is lifted, aimed to plant against the wizard's bloodied side to be used as a springboard, and thus propel Jelko away from the on-coming firestorm. But her reactions are a heartbeat too slow, resulting in that boot being in full contact with Svilfon as his teleport is initiated... It's with a very Satoshi-like yelp that she finds herself transported alongside the wizard, only to land sprawled beside him with coat smouldering. "Oi. Chill out, wizard, you're too hot under the collar tonight~," she manages with a cough, lilt muffled by the mask so that the words are heard by Svilfon alone. It had taken a desperate shielding with her own magic for Satoshi to prevent that chaotic clash of fire and ice mid-teleport, leaving the magus weary and her ruse broken. She highly doubts the wizard could miss the telltale signatures of her ice magic blossoming in response to his flames.
Svilfon huffs, quite literally expelling some smoke from his mouth as he lands beside Jelko. Teleporting mages was dangerous business, and teleporting mages who enact ice magic to shield from the chaotic fire-storm that is Svilfon's unique blend of travel makes matters far worse. He feels a headache coming on, perhaps sympathetic pains for knowing what Sato endured, or perhaps it was merely the energy required to stop himself and the ice-queen appearing together in either bodies not of their own... he shudders for Satoshi's sake at that thought... or not having them appear somewhere wild with the introduction of different magic into the mix. “I.. expected a frosty reception, not not quite this frosty...” He sits up, looking around to ensure no one else is watching... apparently wizards battling assassin queens is a quick way to clear a street entirely, no one wanted to be seen as a witness. Lifting a hand he goes to tip his hat, before realizing it's not there. So instead he runs a hand through his often hidden brown hair, before speaking quietly, perhaps the whisper of a spell ensuring no-one else could hear the words, even if they were close. “Next time you and Kasyr get tricky, some warning would be nice... you almost killed me.” He grins, “Though, you may wish to finish the job, or let me... don't want anyone talking about Jelko fighting Svilfon, and both of them walking away.” He had questions, of course, and was more than a little surprised. But the wizard is also appreciative of the lengths Satoshi goes to to hide her true identity, he'd not want that spoiled over him doing as she said he does: leaping before looking, the true bane of wizards!
Jelko tips her head at the wizard in such a way as to suggest she's twitching her whiskers at him in that scrunched-up-nose manner of hers. "Next time, talk to Kasyr to realize he's in tip-top shape before you go charging after shadowy assassins. Or at least invite me along," there's a definite pout in the words, along with a similar subtle spell to Svilfon's, ensure privacy. The exchange is brief, however, easily overlooked as the pair being momentarily stunned by the teleport. "Best finish this, eh?" Is murmured as Jelko executes a bit of assassin-y gymnatics to leap to her feet from her prone place on the ground, coat still smouldering in places. Silvered claws are pointed at the wizard's face then, close enough to make him go cross-eyed if he cared to look at the blades, and Jelko declares in an audible voice, "I have no time for the likes of you. Not until I'm paid to. Send my regards to your Patron, I'm sure I'll be seeing him soon." Her free hand disappears into her coat then, producing a small vial of red powder that's promptly thrown at the ground beneath their feet. For those that had seen the confrontation of Kasyr and Jelko, it was known the assassin used powdered dragon's blood to create acidic mists to thwart the revenant--although in truth, the substance was harmless red dye, and Kasyr's burns self-inflicted by his lightning affinity. Still, so long as others believed Jelko was armed with dragon's blood, it makes for a believable smokescreen means of fleeing the scene before the vampiric Svilfon can give chase.
Svilfon mutters something about thinking Satoshi would be looking after her injured husband, and not wanting to interrupt them unless it was to plonk a certain assassin's head down on the bed. Still, though, he gets to his feet with far less grace than Jelko did, before proclaiming in a voice rich with anger, “Foolish assassin, you think you can run from me?!” He takes a quick step forward, as if to chase her, before being enveloped in the red dye. He screams, the sound rich with agony, before staggering back suddenly, grabbing his face as if the 'dragon's blood' had burned him. During which, he'd rubbed his hand against his side, lifting it to smear some blood onto his face, to further the image of the destructive nature of saurian vitae to vampires. “I will have my revenge!” He continues to stumble back, though, allowing Jelko more than enough time to vanish into the shadows, something which is answered with more curses involving various deities anatomies. This goes on for quite a while, before, with another stagger, Svilfon begins to head back to the black library. He'd hidden on the way something to leave for Satoshi anyway. While walking to pick it up, his hat appears once more on his head, returning him to his usual rather familiar look, hiding the thoughtful look in his eyes which betrays his anger as nothing but a veil. That sneaky snow queen... the wizard was impressed.
Dimly Lit Reading Room
Satoshi, disguise abandoned at some point along the way, now lounges in an armchair, book open upon her lap. Although it is clear the magus is not reading a single word of the time, gaze distant and thoughtful while her face bears a half-smile.
Svilfon wanders into the library holding as far away from himself as possible a bag. He places it reverently on a table with a slight nod, before at last looking at the snow queen. He knew she was smug about the ruse! That half smile doesn't deceive the wizard. So after a long pause, he tips his hat and speaks. “Clever.” It's high praise from the wizard. He's not often fooled so completely.
Satoshi's eyes fixate on the mysterious bag, although an ear is still turned toward the wizard. "It started as a hobby. Became a useful means of earning money, and has since been a valuable business. But one must be thorough, to keep suspicion off~." Satoshi's gaze flicks to Svilfon then, eyes bright. "That was a brilliant illusion, by the way. Pretty clever yourself."
Svilfon drops into a chair with a wince, adjusting his robes as best he can to cover the wounds on his body, not out of any real care for the chair being stained red – it's Vailkrin after all – but rather, not wanting undue moisture in a room which houses books. It was habit he never wants to shake. “You do it because you enjoy it. I would too.” He tips his hat at that, thinking it's the true reason behind it all. “Though, I will take your warning to heart. Next time someone tries to kill your husband, I'll check with him before seeking revenge.” He grins at that, “Or at the very least, I'll invite you along.” The smile fades. That's the only part of the whole thing Svil seems genuinely remorseful about. The wounds given and received? Nawh, they've shared too many of those for such things to matter. “I had a few of the mages at the Guild do it for me. I was interested at my life's worth. A dragon's hoard? You sell me so cheap?!” A crooked look grows on his face, “I bet you'd have tried to fulfill the contract, too.” He ignores the bag entirely. Perhaps revenge for being so tricked; he knew how curious Sato was.
Satoshi protests in child-like tones, "It would have been a very big dragon's hoard!" She laughs then, shaking her head, a fleeting glance thrown toward the bag. "But I likely would not have accepted the contract." The smirk that follows says Satoshi is lying, she wouldn't have taken the job for a thousand dragon hoards. Blood is blood, and the magus is no traitor to her kin. "I only asked for a dragon's hoard to see if the fellow could actually pay. And in clothes like that? Unlikely. Next time, steal some proper attire from one of the fancier Houses, it'll make you look like a worthwhile client~." Again the kit looks at the bag, wanting so badly to know what's inside, to the point that her tails are a tangled mess of anxious fur.
Svilfon laughs with relaxed joviality. “Next time I'll remember that. In truth, I was going to ask you to kill someone petty, but after hearing as the undead about myself terrorizing the citizens, which I totally didn't do!” He did. “I figured it'd tie in nicely. An outraged undead seeking revenge against the same family the assassin had already struck. It fit as well as wizards and wands.” He falls into momentary silence then, thinking through the implications of Satoshi and Kasyr's ruse, before he finally relents and leans forward, lifting a hand to rest upon the side of the bag. “Fruit, lady icicle, is all it is. But please, I'd rather you didn't eat it... and for the love of Sven's balls, don't let your husband near it.” He moves a hand to pull from the bag a blue-hued apricot-like sphere. “Grown in the heart of fog forest, rich with magic but untainted by elements, not teleported or burned.” He places it back in the bag, before sealing it up with a draw-string. “Another small step to you flying, lady icicle. Or rather, another small step to you flying and looking good while you do it.” He grins, knowing that's as important as the flight itself.
Satoshi's eyes widen with obvious delight and awe, although she manages to refrain from reaching out to touch the fruit--barely. It helps somewhat that her hands were preoccupied untangling her tails, anyway. "Dryad fruit from the Fog Forest... I think that's the last of our ingredients, no? It's almost time to brew up an ink to end all inks! Oh~, speaking of!" The magus nearly topples out of her chair, apparently hit so suddenly by a reminder thought that it carries physical force. "Tristram! Gualon's governor? He approached me about helping him find enchantments to allow him to draw a sword from the confines of a tattoo. It's fairly similar to what we're tinkering with here, and being a dragon, he's a bit more fond of fire than myself, which I thought might be more up your alley~." It's Satoshi's odd way of inviting the wizard into further magical experiments, with Tristram footing the bill!
Svilfon falls silent for a moment, before replying. “Have you got the drow blood and Trist'oth stone? If so, it may be time...” He falls silent again, contemplating the semantics of such spells they will need to cast. Or rather, that Satoshi will need to cast with the wizard perhaps to guide her. He's wary of adding too many magics into the mix unless truly required. Things such as this are always easier when fueled by their owner... and speaking of, his contemplation of that is shattered by another magic puzzle, one paid for by Tristram. He knew the dragon by reputation alone, but that hardly matters. Swords from runic tattoos, attuned with fire! His face is all the acceptance to the invitation Sato would need. “I was just discussing with a pupil about fueling runes from within; of having them cast the spell that we would without us needing to be there.” By us, he means wizards. Satoshi wore the hat, she counts. “But as a dragon... does he shift between man and lizard? That could.. complicate matters...” He doesn't say that at all negatively; without the chance of complications, he'd not be half as interested!
Satoshi scrunches her nose up at the question of drow blood. "Not yet. Although that's for a slightly different ink, to create the levitation enchantment, so it can wait a bit longer." Until she decides if she's going to hunt a drow, or make a really awkward and strange request of Tiphareth. Leave it to Satoshi to be all too eager to hunt down dragons, but wary of Dark Elves. But such matters are past, for the wizard has leapt upon Tristram's opportunity with the expected relish. Satoshi is nodding and chuckling in response by this point. "He does, yes, which is part of the puzzle. It's one I've been mulling over for Kasyr too: how to engineer markings that will return if he's burned his flesh away like he does. I'm not certain how tattoos work with dragons either. Mine does not change when I shift forms, but my forms are not so drastically different in size as a dragon's. We've a number of puzzles set before us wizard, and all the means to test every idea~."
Svilfon nods his head with another grin, before leaning back in the chair with the slightest of winces at the lingering pain from his wounds. “If life were easy, lady icicle, it'd not be worth living. Especially not in our calling.” He doesn't really extrapolate on that; their calling is a mixture of many, many things. Being Coterie and wizard/magii means more than just a name or a title, it's a way of life, damnit! Even if it's a confusing one. “I will give it much thought, lady icicle.” He eyes her for a moment, pondering the implications of her fox-form growing wings and flying, before with a slight chuckle he carries on. “Dragons are large creatures, and their bodies inherently refuse foreign bodies, which is why they burn us when their blood pours free. It will be difficult, but not impossible.” His gaze grows a shade glazey then, many thoughts stealing his attention, “I will say this, though, Satoshi queen. Spending time around you keeps life interesting. I am not sure what I'd do without your puzzles, be them for yourself or others. Glad I am I didn't kill you this night.” He grins again, one last time. “Or the other way around.”
Satoshi says, "Or the other way around" in unison with Svilfon, another mark of the odd synchronicity the pair share. The kit's reaction is to flash a grin full of fangs as she settles more comfortably into her chair. "Life is considerably more entertaining, when you have a wizard in your family. Doubly so, since you're the only other one of our lot that understands the value of meditation." Whiskers twitch with affectionate irritation at the remark. "I'm trying to teach Kasyr. It may help him sort out this inner monster business, if he was more attuned to himself, y'know?" But the kensai is no mage, lightning does not respond well to being bottled, which leaves a scorched Satoshi with no partner in internalized thinking.
Svilfon tips his hat at those final words spoken in unison, his gaze only half focused as he continues to let his mind wander through the possibilities of these coming tattoos. “Much can be said in silence, lady icicle.” He nods at that. “Without meditation, I'm sure I'd be a pile of ash by now.” He laughs quietly at that, before settling in more comfortably. “Kasyr, though. He is... Kasyr. I think the day he truly stops moving is the day the world will end. He is as much the personification of what fuels him as we often are. Perhaps that's what stops his inner monster from taking over... it spends all its time trying to simply keep up!” Svil grins once more at that, before falling silent. Kasyr was another problem for which he was searching for solutions, and sitting here with the lady icicle was a fine, fine place to let his mind wander. Not only was it safe – no one is insane enough to attack them both – it was also calming. Perhaps it was her eternal ice, perhaps it was merely camaraderie. Either way, Svil is content letting his mind freely flow through his many thoughts sitting opposite the queen of Frost and Snow.
Satoshi is in much the same boat as Svilfon, content in his silent presence while her mind delves into the series of knots they've been presented to unravel. Where the wizard may find solace in Satoshi's ice, the magus takes comfort in his fires. The cold can only remember what it is, when in the presence of heat. With these thoughts and more, Satoshi makes herself comfortable, eyes closed but ears alert to any who'd interrupt the company of fire and ice.