RP:A Marriage of Convenience
Background
Joliette Thorne, necromancer and tavern owner, furthers her experiments with the spells that she and others have gleaned from an ancient and very formidable tome, rumoured to hold vast powers and necromantic secrets long forgotten or purposefully hidden due to their dire nature.
Black Library
As you climb down into this room its immense size is the first thing that strikes you. The old wooden ladder creaks un-nervingly as your foot rests on it. This dimly lit room is huge and filled with dusty ancient bookshelves. On examination you can see the shelves are carved from solid black oak, strong sturdy and known for its arcane properties. Lining every shelf is thousands of books all colors shapes and sizes. All the books appear to be about necromancy and black magic and thus the whole subterranean chamber is filled with a most ominous evil aura that seems to sicken right to the soul of any who enter. The smell here is of stagnation for not much fresh air reaches this place; it seems to invade the nostrils like some strange miasma adding to the sickly sensations the room seems to invoke. On the walls hang various ornaments from candle stick holders that bring a tiny tinge of light to certain areas and preserved skulls of all kinds of creatures from Human to Dragon, Drow to Centaur and things even stranger than that. Faint but heavy footsteps can be heard against the cold stone floor distantly so it would be wise not to stay too long without sound reason.
Jolie was surrounded by candles. Black ones, white ones, red and a kind of murky green. They formed a circle of a sort, really more of an ellipsoid shape with an odd wobble to it, and in the center of this esoteric ring she sat, with a very large cake.
Of course, she had not made the cake herself, and so was currently wondering whether this might cause any unexpected displacements of focus within the spell, which might in turn prove unfortunate for poor Mrs. Mallard and/or her lovely Cenril tearooms. The necromancer frowned, and shrugged. Only time would tell.
The only other item within this rough circle was a book - plain-bound, not too large, but it would immediately draw the eye to it and perhaps cause a shudder of the spine, which those who are not initiated into the art of necromancy may call "the creeps".
A necromancer, however, would understand the arcane disturbance the book's mere existence caused; that what was found within its pages created great risk just by the fact that it had been written down and thus was present in the world in some tangible capacity. She spoke a single word, then, a horrid amalgamation of consonants simply not present in human speech.
And the cake... shivered.
Cornelius descends the stairs carefully, with a gravitas unusual for the dandy. This is not the first, nor last, time that he would visit this place - and one does not enter the Black Library without a sense of respect for the darkness and knowledge it houses. He raises an eyebrow at the cake, and appears largely unphased by the esoterica of whatever ritual Jolly-Creepy was putting together. He was certain, however, that he would be unable to look at dessert the same way once this night was done. He says nothing for now, merely makes his presence felt in the background.
Leifong has already been here for some time, observing quietly from the shadows with a certain amount of respect for the ritual being performed. Though, his respect is more so for the book which sits, quietly thrumming against the natural vibrations of the universe in the most strangely perverse manner. It rouses his greed, and attracts his gaze in the most uncanny way. Yet it does not completely muddle his senses, and as the sound of footsteps descending the staircase rings out through the chamber, Leifong silently snaps about through the darkness, and positions himself in the prime position to ambush and murder the newcomer, should they be... unfriendly. Yet it would seem that the shedding of blood, at least for now, is unnecessary, and as the dandy fully makes his entrance to the room, the priest returns to his lusty contemplation of what power might be gained from that unnatural tome.
Jolie afforded Cornelius' entry only the briefest of flickering glances. This was not one of those rituals which would or could be seriously disturbed by anybody who happened to wander by, or she would not have chosen the middle of the floor in a public library as a viable site for it.
The ritual itself had been gleaned from that very book Leifong was so passionately eyeing, and was concerned the summoning of a very minor - and now very extinct - deity from Lithrydel's long-forgotten past, who had in fact been the god of wedding cakes, back when there was a god for everything, and who had been quite forgotten about only centuries after being brought into existence with the very first wedding cake, and who was bitter and full of marzipan spite as a result. And thus, the ritual was tricky - this summoning was for the sheer intent of having the astral remnant of a long-neglected and unhappy little god enchant upon the cake a curse, for whatever fell purpose Joliette had for it in her dark and machiavellian mind, and thus she must appease the god with an appropriate sacrifice. In this case, fortunately for the men present, not a terribly bloody one.
"Oh... Cornelius," she said, still not really looking at him. "You're just in time."
Leifong was half contemplating throwing caution, reason, and common sense all to the wind and stealing the book for his own nefarious purposes. Greed and selfishness ran rampant through his corrupt little soul at the thought of what he might be able to do with such a text, even though he understood not what it might hold within. But no... he would not burn so many bridges all at once, there was likely more to gain by remaining in his station. Rather spontaneously he materializes out of the shadows at Cornelius' side, saying nothing at all, his eyes still firmly locked on the book.
Cornelius nods calmly at Leifong, apparently used to things appearing out of nowhere in this place, and drawls to Jolie "Well, lucky me. So much for some quiet reading in my personal time. About to curse a cake with undeath, are we?"
Jolie said to Cornelius, "No. I need two.. you see... I misread. I need -two people - other than myself. Not just two people." She snuffed a green candle with what looked like some sort of animal paw attached to the end of a stick. "You know. To enact the symbolic marriage that draws the..." Her gaze shone yellow, in the light of all those candles. "Dead gods are very dangerous. And usually cranky. It was a terrible mistake. Terrible. So, I need you to take Leifong by the arm there, and step over that odd wobble in the circle. Near the white candles." The cake seemed to writhe on its stand, globs of frosting oozing down its sides. "Enormous favour."
Jolie added, cheerily, licking a spatter of almond sugar off her cheek near the corner of her mouth, "And we might all survive, then."
Leifong glares, and does his best to silently affirm that he is not alright with playing bride.
Cornelius grins, takes Leifong by the arm and says "Well, dear wife-to-be. Do we kiss now, or later?"
Leifong said to Cornelius, "Unhand me." and then the priest turns to Jolie "You are surely joking."
Jolie shot Cornelius a look that might let him know a lack of suitable gravity could very well get them all killed, and waited patiently for the happy couple to enter the magical circle.
Jolie gave Leifong a similar look, in which he might as well replace 'gravity' with 'ceasing to complain'.
The cake grew suddenly very still.
Jolie said, "Hurry. We haven't much time."
Cornelius raises an eyebrow at the angry necromancer he has just linked arms with "Leifong, my dear fiance, the entire ritual's success depends upon you playing this part without sulking like a little boy told to partner with another lad while learning the waltz. Surely one who has faced ultimate darkness can handle a little eccentricity of ritual. Now come, dear, we must take our spots, lest the cake consume us all" Cornelius takes position, and awaits his 'bride'.
Jolie glared at Cornelius, and proceeded with the next phase of the canta, her voice an atrocity of sound accented by her own lilting tones, a peculiar and unnerving mix.
Leifong bites his tongue, and fights hard to resist his urges to obliterate everything in his sight. Being someone's bride was certainly not outlined in his job description. But then again, few of the things he did were outlined in the job title of bodyguard. "Fine..." he breathes in a tone which, if tones could do such things, would reach out and stab every living thing nearby right in the eyes. "But if you tell -anyone- about this, trust that I will tear your spine out through your..." but the last part of what the livid priest said was drowned out by the continued unearthly sounds that fell from Jolie's lips.
For Cornelius, who grew up in Vailkrin and managed to both develop and maintain such a sense of malevolent savoir faire, the necromancer's glares are both confirmation and reward for a job well done "But of course, M'dear. We men of Penzance are gentlemen of discretion." Cornelius maintains a relaxed disposition, but his muscles are but a moment from action should he be required to deal with horrors the likes of which bakers ought not wot.
Jolie waited, not so very patiently now, for the pair to make their way into the relatively safe confines of the ritual outline.
"This is a very old wedding ceremony," she explained in a half-whisper. "Not in use for untold thousands of years, but contemporaneous with the god of wedding cakes, so bear with me," and then she stood, enacting the role of priestess, therein intoning a set of vows which involved oxen and threats of death by stoning. After this tedious litany, she at last closed the ritual with, "By the power invested in me, I hereby announce thee to be bonded in marriage..." At which point the candles as one dipped their flames and guttered, and a lowing as of cattle was heard anon, and yea, the golden choruses of angels, and out from the cake came a howling and a gnashing of teeth, accompanied by a lot more spattered icing. Then all was silent once more.
"Right," said Jolie, blinking as the candles flared back to fiery life. "That's it, then. Thanks very much, both of you." She took up that book, and flipped a few pages along from the ritual. And stopped to read, and then frowned.
Jolie said, "Oh, dear."
Cornelius raises an eyebrow "I don't like it when you say that, Jolly-girl."
Jolie said, "Wait a moment..."
Leifong grimaces as he awaits what he is certain will be the most terrible of news.
Cornelius glances at Leifong "I think she's deciding if we have to kiss"
Jolie said, "It says here... that the sacrificees, which are..." she glanced up, first to Leifong, then to Cornelius, "... you two. It says... 'O verily will wrath and'.. glamour? No it's... Calamity. 'O, verily will wrath and calamity come upon the brow of the' ..." Her smile was faint and apologetic, ".... 'bride and groom... who do not in wedded bliss remain'…Wait.. 'wedded bliss remain for...’” She frowned, again. "It's so difficult to read, you'd think they'd have learned proper handwriting, with all that extemporal power."
Cornelius stifles laughter. He knows where this is going "Ah well, third time's the charm, eh?"
Jolie read a few words more, silently, her lips moving slowly.
Cornelius is paying very close attention to those lips, with a practised eye
Cornelius snorts
Leifong looks positively murderous. As though at any moment he might snap and begin exacting revenge for this transgression in the most horrible of all imaginable manners. "Jolie...." the priest says in the best imitation of a calm tone that he can manage. "I swear, if you're telling me what I think you're telling me....." his eyes are positively burning with rage at this point. "Fix this. Now."
Jolie looked up. And shrugged, snapping the book shut. "I have no idea what that said, really. None." Her frown faded as she regarded the cake. "But the good news is, we now have a deadly weapon that few will recognise as such."
Cornelius pats Leifong on the shoulder "Ah well. If we're going to have to put up with this for that long, I think I shall call you Jennifer."
Cornelius knows Jolie likes to watch the victims of her rituals squirm for at least a couple of weeks.
Jolie gave them both what passed for a happy little smile. "I did manage to glean one thing,though. With a bit of luck, the numeral denoting days was 'one'..." she coughed, busying herself with the beast-handed candlesnuffer. "...and not one thousand. Maybe that extra squiggle was a bit of foxing on the paper, a fly-speck.. something. Can't wait to try this cake out."
Jolie said to Leifong, "And if it goes well, we can try it on a sword. Or something. Sharp, you know?" The necromancer hummed merrily to herself, for a job well done. It may or may not have been a wedding march.
Leifong is far too enraged to formulate a proper reply using his words. Instead, he disentangles himself from the dandy who is now his bride, or groom, or whatever he is, and takes to pacing. One might be able to feel the lust for violence pulsing out from his robed form, as though his rage were seeping into the world around him.
Jolie said, "You really must forgive my choices here, Leifong," perhaps she was sensing his discontent, "Much easier though, had things gone awry, to evade a cursed cake than a weapon of some sort."
Cornelius coughs politely "One day of wedded bliss, Jennifer, or calamity and whatnot. Concentrated apocalypse, population: you. Well, and me, but apocalypse is such a relative concept, don't you think?" Cornelius smiles at 'Jennifer' "Where should we go for the honeymoon?"
Jolie said to Cornelius, "You're really pushing it. He might want a divorce." Her lips were then pressed firmly together, though her eyes betrayed a certain shine.
Cornelius grins at Jolie "Ritual was -quite- clear, Jolly-Girl. One, or a thousand, days of wedded bliss. Divorce is right out of that equation." He shrugs "I can handle three years, of course - this isn't my first, or second time, braving the battlefield of marriage, but Jennifer seems the blushing virginal type, and I'll have to be gentle."
Jolie said, "He's probably going to kill you, you keep that up, and suffer the calamity."
Cornelius smiles blithely
Jolie admired the cake, then, with a happy little sigh. "The next wedding that occurs for somebody we don't like ought to be quite.. eventful."
Jolie added, in a wispy little voice, "Imagine what we could do with a serrated longsword."
Jolie shot Cornelius a harsh look. "No, not cut down trees. I mean, the carnage."
Jolie knows Cornelius well.
Cornelius raises an eyebrow "Oh please. As if I would sully a blade with such inappropriate usage." He ponders something and chuckles "I may have to let Monsieur Black know that you're getting clucky. He should be warned ahead of time you have marriage on your mind, don't you think?"
Jolie scowled. And then glanced to Leifong, "He doesn't look very blissful, does he?"
Leifong was seriously weighing the pro's and con's here. The prideful creature that he was. Just what kind of calamity was this? Could it really be worse than the hit his ego was taking right now? Probably, but would it be worth it? Oh.... it could be so worth it. His eyes were slowly turning black, as he subconsciously channeled power from the void without truly intending it. But... he didn't -not- intend it either. It was a dangerous position this. "One day." He finally says, and inside his voice speak a thousand others. "I will endure one day. Under one condition." the priest turns and locks his now pitch tone eyes on Cornelius. "Call me 'Jennifer' one more time. Just once more! And we'll be finding out exactly what sort of doom lies in wait much sooner than later."
Jolie gave Cornelius a very long, very serious, very pleading look.
Jolie would recognise the mad look of eagerness which takes over Cornelius' features as a smile spreads across his face. Internally he catalogues all of his defensive artifacts, hidden aces, and tricks from his old trade - externally his smiling lips twitch ever wider.
Jolie said, "Corny. I need you both alive. For the carnage. Please, be reasonable."
Cornelius is still smiling, the temptation strong, his eyes dancing with the imagined thrill of conflict locked onto the enraged necromancer even as he says "What carnage would that be, dearest Jolie?"
Jolie said, "That which comes about with the cursing of the blades that the risen corpses of all those people Colton Black has murdered will be bearing." She was not quite jiggling with self satisfaction, but not far off it. "My next test subjects are to be weapons of your choice. I mean. To make up for.. you know..."
Jolie said, "…being married."
Jolie said, "I'll need actual sacrifices for those. Thought you two might find me some."
Cornelius' grin is a deranged, grotesque thing beneath his too-bright eyes "But wedded bliss is its own reward, Jolie." A shadow haunts the edges of his words "Why, marriage has only ever been a cause for joy." He tilts his head, a strangely attentive angle to it "Such marvellous things have I seen and experienced. What need in that for some fancy new blade? Of such coin I have plenty"
Jolie said to Cornelius, "But a blade worth only coin cannot strike your foe down with plague for a minor wound." She paused, for effect. "Or make him grow breasts. Or lose his .. you-know-whats. A cursed weapon doesn't needs a deadly blow to kill or cause lifelong suffering. Marvellous, really. But tricky, very tricky to make."
Leifong couldn't bear standing still, he was brimming with energy, anger, power. He needed an outlet, a release valve to keep the pressure from building up past safe levels and tearing him apart. With no warning the priest seems to evaporate, his physical form melding back into the shadows where it moves at great speed away from this place. Mere moments after his sudden disappearance, a great blast can be both heard and felt rocking the stones beneath Jolie and Cornelius' feet. And then another follows, seeming more distant. The horror which is likely to ensue upon oh so many innocent beings is biblical.
Jolie winced, and said, "Not blissful at all." She looked vaguely worried. Little bits of mortar rained down from a crack in the library roof. "Fancy a drink, Corny?"
Cornelius dismisses such weapons with a wave of his hand. "Frippery for men who cannot win with skill and planning alone." Then Leifong vanishes, and Cornelius' teeth clench, his grin becoming a rictus thing as once again he loses out on the opportunity to face the shadows face to face. "If you can make me a weapon which could pierce the heart of Darkness, Jolie, then maybe I'd have the slightest interest. Let calamity come. I am ready." He turns on his heel, and makes towards the stairs.
--A Little Later, Hanging Corpse Tavern--
Cornelius stalks into the bar, ignoring Urghdak and Steadman, seats himself at a table, and pulls a silver flask and tumbler from his satchel.
Jolie held the tavern door open. "In here, lads." Behind her, two large men were carrying a plinth on which was set a very large and somewhat ragged-looking wedding cake. "Careful now," she warned. "Don't lick your fingers, if you touch it. For say.. a month?" She wasn't sure. "Just pop it in the kitchen. Your pay'll be on the bar."
Mahri was coming downstairs about this time. She didn't look to be in as much pain as the night before but lines of stress still creased lines between her eyes. She made the last step just in time to see what appeared to be a tower of a cake, not a pretty one either, being delivered to the kitchen. "Somethin' I should know about, Joles? Did Black really offer you his hand this time or something?"
Cornelius decants a measure of brandy into his tumbler, places it down, then proceeds to pour the rest of the contents of the flask down his throat in one long, unbroken draw.
Mahri eyes Cornelius and sidles up to the bar, "Coffee," she says when Steadman finally looks her way. "Long night eh?"
Jolie said to Mahri, "Hm? No it's more Corny's." She'd let the fop explain. "I was experimenting with curses. How are you feeling?"
Mahri blinks and smirks. She'll wait til the coffee arrives and has a sip before answering. "Feel tired and achy."
Cornelius isn't explaining anything. He's still letting the brandy pour down his throat in a slow, continuous trickle. When the flask does empty in half a minute, he pulls a bottle from his satchel.
Jolie heard a crash from the kitchen. "Careful with that cake," she called, and turned back to Mahri, offering the woman she'd claimed as family a half-awkward pat on the arm in passing, "It's all so exciting. They say it hurts a lot, you know. I have some pain relief mixture, if you'd like to keep it handy?" By now she was speaking over her shoulder, headed for the kitchen doors where from came angry shouts and the clang of cutlery.
Mahri didn't find any of this exciting. She found it rather irksome and irritating.
Jolie was oblivious to anybody else's sourness of mood, her own being quite full of cheer.
Another crash brought Cook scurrying out of the kitchen, "Killin' each other in there!"
Jolie frowned. "Somebody licked their fingers."
Cornelius carefully and deliberately peels the wax seal from the bottle and removes the cork. He raises the bottle in salute to Mahri, then proceeds to refill the flask. He returns the flask to his satchel and picks up the tumbler, downing its contents and refilling it from the bottle.
Mahri blinks and looks up at Cook as she rushes through that door. "Just what did you do to that cake?"
Jolie peeked through the door. The sound of something sharp embedding the timber followed, the door slammed closed again just in time to avoid it being embedded in Jolie instead.
Cook squeaked, in response to Mahri, "Didn' do nuthin' Miss, they just went bonkers."
Cornelius glares at the door that Cook just ran from. "Too damn noisy." Leaving bottle and tumbler, he rises gracefully to his feet and starts walking towards the door, daggers appearing in his hands like a street magician's flowers, a hint of something frenetic in the movement of his eyes.
Jolie looked to Cornelius, a little warily. She'd seen that look before.
Mahri will watch Cornelius closely from then on. Whatever had happened while she slept it obviously had some sort of affect on the dandy. She'd not seen him imbibe in that manner of recklessness in..ever. Pursing her lips into a frown, Mahri stares into her cup of coffee
Jolie stepped out of Corny's way. And said to Mahri, "It's cursed. Long story, tell you later."
Mahri missed the daggers. Of course. To Cook she shrugs, "Weren't talkin' to you."
Cornelius approaches the door, face blank and eyes ablaze with an emotion not kin to rage, but something more chaotic. He stamps a solid kick into it just below its latch - if it is locked, the timber around the latch would splinter as the door swings wildly inwards. If not locked, well, the door will open that much more rapidly. His daggers held casually in his hands, Cornelius walks into the kitchen.
Jolie said to Mahri, "He's supposed to be blissful.. this isn't going to go well."
Mahri hmm's thoughtfully and watches Cornelius go into Cooks' sanctuary. She felt bad for the mess the woman was going to have to clean up. "If this kid is going to have his way, it's going to be a long later." With a heavy sigh, the lycan finishes off half the coffee in one gulp. At least she was beginning to feel more awake.
Mahri said to Jolie, "Just what sort of curse makes someone happy?"
Jolie blinked. "Happy?"
Jolie said to Mahri, "And er. You mean....?" The bump was stared at. "It's coming? Now?""
Mahri just stares at Jolie. "Not right this second, no. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow." She shrugged a shoulder and kept one ear cocked towards the kitchen. Not that she thought Cornelius might need a hand or anything. "I just know it's soon. I won't be going back to Rynvale at least. Not..today." Even if she had promised to be back this morning. A promise. She never broke promises. Ever. "Unless you know a quicker way to get there than boat."
Mahri adds, "You said he was supposed to be blissful. Happy. He's not. Never mind."
While Jolie was asking Mahri those questions, the interior of the kitchen was rapidly becoming a war zone. One of the men already sporting a large cut, was foaming at the mouth and trying to beat the other to death with a colander, while being stabbed himself, repeatedly in the ankle with a fork. Neither man appeared to pay any attention to any resulting pain, though their wounds bled freely. Pots and pans were scattered, and the lids, and a bloody knife had skittered across Cook's spotless floor, leaving a long, scarlet skid-mark.
Jolie said to Mahri, "Hm?" She was edging the two of them back, away from that door, even as she spoke. "I could always get Maladroit to take you." She wasn't being serious. Probably. "But you shouldn't be travelling. And Corny's meant to be blissful because he married Leifong. For a day. Or a thousand days, I'm not really sure... but they're both refusing to be blissful. And that," she shook her head, ruefully, ".. means they must suffer calamity."
Cornelius' soft and smooth tread has him drift into the kitchen, a blank-faced harbinger of terminal displeasure. He glides up behind the fork-bearing man, and casually inserts one dagger into the kidney, one into the heart "Your vulgar display irks me. Be still." He turns to look at the other man, colander-wielding and frothy-mouthed. "Even the sound of your breath is grating to me."
Mahri is so confused by now she allows Jolie to draw her away from the kitchen. "They..what? Wait..married? Maladroit..no." Even the thought of that faceless thing being near her sent a shiver of revulsion down her back. Probably because of what happened when he'd been ..summoned? "I think you should just tell me what happened." She'll break free only long enough to retrieve what is left of her coffee before creeping back towards her sister.
The rabid-looking berserker, who had ingested more of that almond frosting than his now seriously perforated workmate, let out an enraged roar, dropped the bloodied colander and took up a rolling pin in one hand, a blind grapple for any available weapon with the other hand scoring a double-pronged carver's fork, and so armed came flailing toward the dandy, to club or fork the fop to death, whichever hand landed its intended blow first.
Jolie said to Mahri, "Well... I was summoning the extinct god of wedding cakes, you see, to make a cursed cake. And forgot there had to be three, not two, and Corny happened along, and so Leifong and he were married as the sacrifice." There was a small silence then. "The spell said they had to be blissful or..." Her gaze canted toward the kitchen. "Calamity. And possibly something to do with oxen. The writing wasn't very legible."
Cornelius shifts out of the way of the rolling pin, sidesteps the thrusting fork, and with swift movements sends both daggers into action, one sweeping down to sever the fingers holding the fork, the other targeting the tendons of the berserker's elbow. A slight smile cracks the dandy's facade even as he continues his lateral movement, a hint of the earlier, fevered shine appearing in his eyes.
The un-fingered and floppy-armed delivery man, who'd not started his day imagining for a moment that he'd become the victim of a cursed cake, let alone foppish calamity, and who was now utterly possessed of the cake's dire curse, simply threw himself bodily toward Cornelius, gnashing his teeth and kicking furiously, his sole desire the death of the dandy, his mind a thick blot of near-insensate wrath.
Outside the kitchen, Cook was snivelling in her hanky, thinking of the day's roast even now turning on its spit over the fire, fearing it burned, and imagining the state of her kitchen.
Roelstra , upon seeing that the Hanging Corpse is finally rebuilt, opens the door quietly as she does not wish to disturb any patrons with an unnecessarily loud entrance. Emerald greens peer around after the door swings shut on it's own weight.
Mahri is just standing there. Staring at the kitchen door. She listened to Jolie's explanation and chose to let it go. Curses, resurrections..summonings. These were all beyond her ken and the wolf did not like, especially now, to feel like she was missing some vital bit of information. "I see.."
It was a thing of but a moment, a cessation of restraint, and laughter bubbles up and pours out of Cornelius mouth as he steps into a backwards half lunge, placing both daggers in the path of the charging man's eyesockets. Men spend their entire existences blind, why bother with eyes anyway? The fool in front of him certainly would have no use for them now. As the man impales his skull upon Cornelius' outstretched daggers, Cornelius steps forward as he pushes at an upwards angle, the leverage scientifically applied to force the berserker's weight onto his back foot. This allows the laughing dandy to pull his stilettos out with a stomp to the stomach and a slight twist and flick of wrists and blades. Cornelius looks in fascination as one stiletto brings an eyeball with it, the cord of optic nerves severed. The other dagger is swiftly thrust into the man's throat. Suddenly Cornelius stops laughing and walks back out, bloodied and eyeball-skewered daggers still held. "Ahh, yes. Nice and quiet now. Quite serene. Where did I leave that brandy..."
Cornelius leaves the kitchen and approaches his table where the bottle and tumbler yet remain.
Mahri glances back to the door at the vampire entering. Obviously, the quirked brow was in reply to the attempted stealth. There's no reason for it judging by the commotion from the kitchen.
Jolie turned to Mahri as things once more fell quiet in the kitchen. Before the fop emerged, she said, "It's only the beginning. Lots of work to do. Things go wrong..." And she'd notice Roelstra then. Rather than her usual buoyant greeting to the woman, an old friend, the necromancer narrowed her eyes slightly. "Come to gather information, ranger? Or just needed a breather from your duties in Larket?'
Jolie motioned to Steadman, a flap of hand toward the murderous fop, to indicate that the one-eyed keep ought to serve him brandy, post haste. In abundance.
Jolie said to Steadman, "Not that muck. The good stuff, from Venturil."
Cornelius narrows his eyes at Steadman "Slip me another poison or potion, and you breathe your last."
Jolie gave Steadman a very acute stare, which only bolstered the dandy's warning.
Cornelius ponders a moment "Also, I shall need a cloth. These daggers are a little messy."
Mahri doesn't have a cloth but Steadman has plenty. One he gives Cornelius by way of tossing the rag to the bar directly in front of the fop.
Jolie, meanwhile, was consoling Cook. "There, there," she murmured to the clearly distraught chef, "The troll will eat most of that. And I'll have the maids pick up what's left. You go home, and let me see to the roast. No, no," she insisted when Cook voiced concern, "it'll be fine. I know my way around a kitchen.. run along now."
Roelstra stops dead in her tracks at the open hostility from one she had seen has a friend. She had not sought information, nor a breather. She had a mind to congratulate Jolie on the reopening of the tavern, but before any barbs can fly form the vampiress' lips, she merely turns to leave.
Cornelius catches the cloth on the tip of the dagger-sans-eyeball, and flicks it onto the table by his brandy bottle. He lays both daggers down for now, and starts methodically pouring brandy into his tumbler and then downing the sweet and potent liquid. After three tumblers full, he carefully cleans the first dagger, palms it with a flick of the wrist, and it returns to wherever he'd had it secreted previously. He turns his attention to the other dagger, still bearing its trophy of an eyeball.
Jolie studied the back of the woman who now worked for the people who'd made her son prince for a week, and so cruelly left him rot when their own needs were met for an heir. Not to the mention the general slander and hostility that had come her family's way from King Painintheass and his delicate bride. It was this which had her rankled, and this which had her speak so sharply to Roelstra. Chuffing a sigh, she called, "Of course, you're welcome to stay if not on any official business."
Jolie glanced at the eyeball, and said to Cornelius, "Do you.. um. Have plans, for that?"
Cornelius shrugs "Feed it to Urghdak, maybe? Encase it in crystal and embed it in jewelry? The possibilities are endless, wot." He downs another tumbler. Perhaps he has built up too much of a tolerance for the damned stuff, but unconsciousness is still failing to come to his brandied beck and call.
Jolie shook hr head. "It's just.. sort of staring at me. I thought you might like to dispose of it. And Urgh doesn't eat eyes." The jewellery idea wasn't all that unappealing, but she wouldn't say so. "Are you.. alright, Corny?"
Roelstra 's pale bare hand had barely rested on the doorknob before Jolie's words followed her sigh. After a count to five allows her to regain some of her composure, she turns around to reply with a level and cool tone, " If I were on business, it would not bring me here. I know where my authority, such as it is, lies. And it is not within Vailkrin's boundaries." Booted footfalls click their way towards a bar stool, pulling it away so she can settle her petite frame upon its top. " I'm not paid for espionage, either. Even if I knew anything of detriment to you and yours, it's not my will or place to give that up."
Cornelius smiles crookedly at Jolie "Perfectly alright, Jolly-girl. One could just use some sleep, is all." Perhaps a tall order for a man who had not slept in three centuries, whose dark hours were a combination of meditative trance and the enforced relaxation of all the body's muscles. But tonight, perhaps he would defeat the curse through other means. He downs another tumbler of brandy, and refills it.
Jolie slid a bottle Roelstra's way. "I won't have to poison you, then." It was a joke, as evidenced by the necromancer's wink as she slid a glass along to join the liquor. "On the house. And you missed the Ball we had. Wonderful evening."
Jolie's gaze lifted from the small vampiress to the dandy in some consternation. But rather than voice this concern, she merely brought another bottle of brandy to rest on the bar, for Steadman to deliver to Cornelius' table. "I wonder how Jen..." she frowned at herself. "Leifong.. is doing."
Cornelius removes the eyeball from the second dagger, and flicks it towards Urghdak "Grub's up, old bean. Eye's cream." He quickly finishes cleaning the blade and it too disappears with a flourish. He thinks of the small vial in his satchel. The liquid contained therein would react strongly to alcohol. It was a viable plan, Cornelius conceded, although the headache come morning would be one to regret. As would the piercing pain guaranteed to afflict the rest of his body as it purified itself of the toxin.
The eyeball bounced off of Trollson's hardened leather jerkin, and fell with a soft 'splot' to the floor. Only a slightly more sulphurous glint from the half-orc's yellow eyes betrayed his ongoing deathwish for the dandy.
The eyeball, linty now, would likely become a treat for the tavern's unhygienic janitor.
Roelstra uses her teeth to uncork the bottle of her favorite wine, the tension in her shoulders and upper back ebbing slowly. A gentle smile teasing at the corner of her lips while pouring a small measure of the dark delicious vintage into the offered glass. " I'd heard, and I'm sorry I missed it. Glad to see the ol' Corpse back up and running. " To this, she raises her wine glass before taking a long sip.
Jolie said to Roelstra, "Me, too." She glanced around. "Missed it terribly. Say.. have you met Cornelius?' she gestured toward the table where he sat. "Old friend of mine from when I was a kid. I say... Corny?”
Cornelius looks at the Vampiress "Anastasia. So nice to see you again."
Jolie stared at the dandy. "Her name's Roelstra..."
Roelstra 's gaze quickly slices over to the man she had met on several occasions before. The furrow of her brows and cant of her head quite clearly asks " Are you daft?"
Cornelius stares at the Vampiress levelly, as another memory filters through to the surface. "Ah, Roelstra. The Ice Palace. Now I recall."
Cornelius is not sure how the vial of dark, viscous liquid had reached his hand, and he is quick to stow it away.
Jolie said to Roelstra, "Forgive him. He's had a very.. unusual sort of day. Cornelius Von Penzance, of the Vailkrin family. Very old lineage, I believe."
Jolie said to Cornelius, "This is Roe. She saved me once. On a horse, long ago."
Jolie had not missed glimpsing that vial. And thought of Jobbie the Apothecary. And winced a bit, at the possibilities. But she'd ask him about that, later. Right now, she was wondering where in heck that janitor was.
Roelstra cannot help but chuckle around another sip of wine, " You love that story, don't you?"
Cornelius grins the rictus grin which had somehow made something of a home for itself on the dandy's face this evening "Old lineage, yes. All but ended now. Sad story. Long too, wot. Make for a wonderful book, I am told. Well done. The saving, that is. The horse too, wot."
Jolie managed a smile at the vampiress' comment. "I really do. Tell me how you've been. " She snagged a bottle for herself, minus a glass.
Jolie was a little disturbed by that particular smile the dandy wore. She avoided the topic of his family, "Should've seen it, Corny. War field, blood and carnage, me wounded and the lady here galloped up on her steed and whisked me out of harm's way. Quite heroic, really. I owe her my life."
Roelstra takes another long sip of the wine, giving Cornelius her own level stare, " You know, it's not the first time I'd been called another woman's name." Her petal-pink lips curve into a grin, not bothering to hide her fangs. " However, you're not in a relationship with me, so no offense is taken." The last time that had happened to her, things had not ended well for the infidelous pig. And she leaves that hint hanging in the air with a glint in her eye and another long sip.
Roelstra cannot help but blush a bit at Jolie's recanting of the battle that had taken place during the chaos brought about by the Immortals.
Cornelius salutes Anast... Not Anastasia, No. Roelstra. Yes, Roelstra. He salutes the vampiress with his tumbler before downing its contents. He doggedly refills it even as he recognises that, for all of its growing effects, unconsciousness was seemingly not going to be one of the brandy's blessings. "Jolly good show, old bean" Why was that vial in his hand again? Back into the satchel, damned thing.
Jolie would excuse herself from Roelstra's company a moment to step toward Cornelius' table. "What's that, Corny?" she murmured, ostensibly there to collect the empty bottle and replace it with another. "That thing you had, just now." She did not disguise her growing concern, for when did the silver-haired dandy ever vacillate, on anything?
Roelstra frowns again, but this time with confusion, looking back to Jolie questioningly.
Cornelius came off to her as distracted, bothered. Why else would the man be trying to so hard to drown his liver in all that brandy? The vampiress was never one to drink herself silly, having learned that lesson the hard way in her days when alcohol was able to affect her far more easily.
Cornelius murmurs "Stone-dream, pool-dream, which dream am I in now, I wonder. Insurance is always needed, no matter where the Downfall of Penzance make their presence known. Old insurance, this, dead insurance, but with life in it yet."
Cornelius distractedly wipes off the few bits of blood which still mar his cuirass.
Jolie inhaled a long, slow breath and finished fussing around the table. Once more long look at Cornelius, and she said, gently, "How's that ugly parrot of yours?" She'd found changing the topic a great way to break a morbid mood, of late. "And I've yet to be invited to board this Wave Beaver of yours." She was mock-offended, sniffing as she stalked back to the bar.
Jolie said to Roelstra, "It's a horrible parrot. I mean, they're all horrid. But this one? Feathered devil, it is."
Roelstra said to Jolie, "I've yet to meet a parrot I didn't want to spear on an arrow. Too damned noisy."
Jolie said to Roelstra, "I think it's possessed. By somebody awful."
Cornelius furrows his brow in consternation "Parrot... Waves? Sorry, Jolly-girl, I've no idea where you could get a parrot at this time of night. Strange request, really, but who knows what you've got planned. Some minor revenge on Garath, no doubt. True enough, he'd not expect anything dastardly from a parrot. You could try the marketplace in the morning, there's the Aviary of Exotica near the scrimshaw merchant" Scrimshaw, marketplace, something else was tugging at Cornelius memories, and he somehow knew he didn't want to have anything to do with it. He downs another tumbler, a faint echo of screams in his ears.
Jolie once more settled a pale green gaze on her old friend. One of the few left from when she was younger. The places he'd mentioned.. they were of the past, centuries in the past. Something twigged, then. Calamity.... "Corny," she said, quickly. "Have you seen that nast hobbit lately?" Jobbie was the only shopkeep she knew from the old days who was still about, and perhaps it'd pave the way for some more amusing memories than the ones which, she guessed, were haunting Cornelius currently. "Remember when he got the truth serum mixed up with laxative, that time? Garath was furious, getting something else entirely out of the fellow he was interrogating."
Cornelius smiles, his eyes taking on a distant quality as he raises the still-empty tumbler to his lips "Yes, disgusting old Jobbie. It was deliberate, you know. Damn bastard doesn't make mistakes when it comes to potions. I need to see him, as a matter of fact. A new commission will require something a little more special than my own concoctions. It shall be an interesting job. A deadline, Jolly-girl, a specific time of day for the deed to be done, and in a -very- public place no less. Such challenge, ahh yes indeed, it shall be an exciting endeavour."
Jolie's brows lifted, for two reasons, when the dandy had spoken. Firstly, it was unlike him to discuss 'business' so very openly. Secondly.. the business itself. "Might tag along," she offered, "When you go to see him. Been a while since I was down that way." On purpose. The hobbit revolted her, with his fat little hands and wobbly jowls.
. Something inside Cornelius -twists- and he blinks, then shuts his eyes tightly for a moment. When they snap open again, a hint of lucidity appears in their pale blue depths "I need to be elsewhere. I shall take my leave now." He cleans his tumbler and stows it in his satchel before rising slightly unsteadily to his feet. "Adieu, all." He makes his way towards the entrance to the basement.
Jolie stared after Cornelius. "Bye..." she murmured. Perhaps they ought to have a talk, on the morrow.
Jolie said, turning her head toward the kitchen, sniffing the air suspiciously, "Is it just me... or is there... something burning?"