RP:Book Dropper
This RP is part of the arc Arc:The Bones of a Dead City.
Wonderous Study
Perched high upon a spire of carved wood is a gigantic desk that to the first glance appears to be floating such is the craftsmanship of the spire. Surrounding the desk are gigantic bookshelves that are ludicrously high, producing a dizzying effect in lesser creatures as they gaze up at the volumes and volumes of leather bound tomes. Scattered around the room are many cabinets that are locked, with ornaments placed upon them, china vases filled with wild flowers being the most common. This room has a very studious feel that contrasts greatly with a suit of glistening metal armour that hangs by the door. The armor includes a helmet shaped to look like an eagle, clawed gauntlets and a painted wing guard crafted like scale mail to give the appearance of metallic feathers. Whoever dwelled within was a fierce fighter and had a studious mind just standing here makes you feel calm and collected, ready for work.
Zeirra is somewhere up in the top reaches, then. Plucking at books and letting them drop.
Ranok had broken into this house. Why not? The rest of the city was abandoned, looking empty as if eons had passed. The chance of someone actually living in this space, now, was low. The dust on the floor and every flat surface agreed. So he broke the lock, and entered the dwelling. He wasn't here for such useless things as material wealth. No amount of gold would turn his head, and gems and trinkets only caught his attention for the length of time it took to determine that they weren't magical in any capacity. Magical gems could be traps, security, or just plain useful. Instead, it was one thing he wanted above all others: knowledge. To be precise, books. The smith had subsequently bypassed the politely decorated living rooms in favor of the personal library of the former owner here. A homoculi, the former servant of the home and utterly gone mad, was put down almost as an after thought. Two crossbow bolts stuck out of its forehead, and three in its chest. It was no guardian like the ones spread through the city, a more slim model perfect for being a butler or the such. It was a shame that it had to be done, but, alas, a matter of necessity. Golden blood oozes from the wounds made upon the creature, mixing with the dust and crumbling carpet. The smith was currently wandering the study, as if deciding how to get to those books that sat on high.
Zeirra was too high above to hear the movements below her, or plain didn't care. If there had been someone here prior, she wasn't aware. A book tumbled to the floor below as the Avian let it from her grip to grab another, "Strange," she muttered as she looked at an old, half rotten tome.
Ranok jumps back when a book falls near him. The crossbow he'd used to plug the servant of the house was raised in defense, and by reflex. The thing was a wonder of engineering, a thing of metal and wood designed to be very effective at killing. A spring feed clip gave sign that it was a repeater, and the loop cock near the trigger gave confirmation. Words drop from his mouth, but they weren't Common. He repeats himself, but then in Common. "Vho iz dere? Show youself." Scanning the upper reaches, he wouldn't be dropped down on and surprised.
Zeirra did look down as she heard someone calling in a strange tongue, and as requested, showed herself. She drew her large wings up above her head and let herself fall. As Ranok came into sight more clearly, the Avain manueveered her wings to halt her sudden descent, letting the female step softly onto the floor as dust and loose pages blew about. "Hi," she said in a cheerful voice, her naked and heavily tattooed body standing before the strange talking man.
Ranok was a little surprised, actually. That *never* worked. Not without violence, anyways. The smith stood at his full height, the same seven feet tall, plus his boots. His frame was one of careful hostility, the crossbow held to shoulder as he had the thing pointed at the avian. The face, heavily weathered and carrying a long, jagged scar, from left temple to right jaw, was drawn in a serious expression. The eyes, gray, flickering, were locked onto the naked woman before him. He wasn't going to be distracted by breasts. He wasn't some young pup, anymore. Duster, equally worn looking as the man that wore it, fluttered in a breeze that simply did not blow through the room. It was open, exposing weapons and armor underneath. And finally, the trio of electric blue lights, which were over his right shoulder and gleaming gently. "Hello. Kare toshere de reason hyu're here?"
Zeirra looked around at the books, paying no mind to the weapon pointed at her nor the arsenal the large man had about his person, "I like books," the Shim said conversationally, "also, civility dictates I offer you the opportunity to stay your weapon. If it were harm I meant to cause, we wouldn't be talking." She still held a book in her hand, her index finger caressing the outside of it's worn pages. She'd ask why he was there, but this place didn't belong to her, so she had no right to ask that.
Ranok glances at the trio of lights, almost in a 'get a load of this girl' sort of way. To Zeirra, "My veapon iz schtayed. Forgiff de impudence, but surely hyu must onderstund. Dis kity moves vith de insane men out dere. Hy've been attacked here, more den vunce. Make no sudden moves, und dis hall schtays on de level. Giff und take, huh?" Feet had been slowly widening the gap between avian and human, so as a lunge couldn't close the distance too fast for the avian to be perforated should it come to that. When that was achieved, the tip of the weapon lowers down slightly. Just a few inches, but it was enough that she wouldn't be staring down the barrel. Or up at it, depending on height differences. "Hyu like books den too, huh? Find henny goot vuns?"
Zeirra looked at the book and back to the man, then back to the book. She wasn't sure what was more interesting at the moment, books or the man's speech. Thinking it might be a type of illness, or result of some trauma, she thought it'd be wise to leave it alone. "None yet," Zeirra replied as she tossed the book onto a pile of others. "How about you?" She assumed that was his purpose as well.
Ranok spares a moment to glances around the room, and the shelves. Both of which were rather out of his reach, at the moment. "Sadly, didn' get a chance to browse. Zumone began droppink books on my head as soon as Hy arrived." He seemed to be mildly annoyed by this interruption. Though, judging by the nature of the books and pages scattered about from Zeirra's tossing of them, the protection spells failed on this particular study. Anything here would range from worthless to nearly so. Perhaps it might be a good time to simple cut losses and withdraw. Though...another glance to the lights over his shoulder. A few words in that strange language again. And then the lights drift off into the room to peruse the spines of the books.
Zeirra watches the blue lights with mild interest before turning back to Ranok, "That was possibly me dropping the books. Didn't know anyone else was here," She trailed off and followed after the lights, shouting at Ranok, "Are they little miniature fairies, or are you Tzur?" Zeirra then recalls that she had yet to give her name, or hear one from the stranger, "I'm Zeirri Shim, by the way." The lights again call her attention. They seemed somehow exotic to her.
Ranok ignored the lights as soon as they left his shoulder. They were old hat to him. "Dat makes tvo uf us. Hy didn' ekspeck to meet zumone else in dis dead kity." Except for the old defenses and automations that ambled about. The lights didn't answer Zeirra's shout, either. They simply drifted, each light floating this way and that like a trio of fish left in a tank. No obvious means of motive force or intelligence. They might have just been that, lights. But that would have been a stretch. "Vat iz a Tzur?" He didn't offer his name.
Zeirra continued to watch the lights for a moment before her attention falls to Ranok again, "Tzur. Magic user," she said with a shake of her head and a roll of her eyes, as if Ranok should have known that. 'Anyways,' she thought, moving back towards the man, "I think...I'm going to call you, I don't know actually. We'll say James the Orc. I know, what you're thinking, " she said as she picked up and interesting looking book, "Strange name for an Orc, and one that isn't green, or some other dark earthy color." She moved to set the book back down, but before she could, the Avian found herself being assaulted by one of those Homunculus creatures, it's strong little arms striking out with a deadly enough looking blade towards her side. Zeirra hadn't seen it.
Ranok makes a bland sort of expression in response to her reaction at his ignorance. "Right." Her nicknaming of him got no reaction. He preferred nicknames, as a matter of fact, and that it was so easy to simply get her to select one pleased him. Fingers gently release and regrip the crossbow, to keep circulation flowing. The lights drifted, and seemed to be inspecting something, as they had halted, when the homoculi the smith had put down earlier erupts on the offensive. They had a tendency to get back up if you weren't careful, self repair systems kicking in. The really damaged ones were sometimes collected if they were lucky enough to be in the wanderings of one of the crews assigned the task. Otherwise, inbody systems had to take over. Apparently, Ranok had underestimated this one, or it was one that was investigating an apparent break in. Either way, the smith reacts with liquid motion. Crossbow snaps up. Body exhales. Trigger was pulled. The spring repeater releases a clacking sound as it works the mechanism. The string snaps, firing the projectile, and the spring yanks it back while the spring clip forces another bolt in. It was marvelous little weapon, and proven handy when this things required an obscene amount of damage to put down. Likely, the homoculi reaching for the avian wouldn't even make it, or at least be stunned from the half clip it was forcefully fed, five bolts let loose at it.
Zeirra didn't seem to flinch at all as the bolts flew and felled the creature. She stood back up and nodded, "Thanks." Empty handed and unscathed, she looked now at the weapon appreciatly, "That is a fine contraption," she said, and made to leave, "Well, i must be going."
Ranok lowers the weapon. The clip was spent, though Zeirra likely wouldn't know that. Five bolts to put down the thing once, five more for a second time. Just watch it get back up again. Head turns to the avian and an eyebrow lifts, "Uh. Bye." Frankly, the woman mystified him. His guess was that she lived in the city, away from civilization. Probably eating off some garden long gone rampant, or catching birds. It would certainly explain her lack of clothing, the dirty look, and a disregard for danger from homoculi. Words whisper on the air, the same language he'd spoken twice before. His head snaps towards the lights. All three were in front of the spine of a book in particular. "Oh, goot." He'd mostly forgotten Zeirra by that point, or seemed to have.
Zeirra said to Ranok, "Well, James, it was fun. Hope to see you again. I'm sure I'll be around here if you're ever around here."
Ranok just gives the avian a nod and lets her leave. More time to peruse the shelves above him without having to watch his back from a potentially insane woman.