RP:Collecting Aid
Part of the Vakmatharas' Jar Arc
Summary: Eirik is pointed into the direction of Brennia to help with the curses plaguing most of Lithrydel, but he has a brush with the Flewminati first.
Schezerade Tavern
The first thought running through one’s head upon entering this tavern is that it isn’t your typical watering hole. It’s constructed of polished white stone, brightly illuminated by golden chandeliers and torches, along with a cosy fire located at the southern side of the circular building. The very centre of the building is where the bar is located, where a pair of lovely twin avian women take orders and hand out drinks in gold cups. There is plenty of places to sit other than at the central bar as well; cushion-topped marble chairs fastened to the floor are placed around a matching marble table, also attached to the floor so it appears like both floor and tables were hewn from the same piece of marble. Flowers of every type and colour decorate the majority of the tavern as well, giving the ambiance to the building one of comfort and lavishness. You can almost hear the sounds of birds tweeting through the large, open windows, which let in a gentle breeze to only add more to the tavern’s relaxing feel.
Eirik and his presence, is first noted by the large shadow cast from his frame whilst stepping through the door. A veritable man of armored muscle and scars which riddle his features in eerily ways. Armored sleeves work their way up both arms and weave into steel and leather plate pauldrons. A silver stitched black leather jerkin protects his torso, while woolen pants cling to his frame, tied by leather straps. Scuffed steel greaves start just below his knees and add protection to his booted feet. A long sword dangles from one hip, tied via the means of a leather baldric. An Ice-enchanted tomahawk hangs from the other. Signs of a recent scuffle adorn his features, a bit of blood here, a scrap there, giving further statement to his rough visage. Truly Eirik had gotten lost on his way out here, and only happened upon this establishment. Luckily for him, they were offering drinks. The northman, dodges one drunk patron only to find himself confronted by another. "Apologies," he states and shifts around him as well. The barkeep is greeted next. He would have to find Brennia after a drink or two. They were sorely needed. "Whiskey," the barkeep gives him an odd-ball look and instead offers him something a little more refined. "You'll like it." The northman gives a final curious glance to the patrons before trying the new drink.
Brennia has been detained to stay within the college since her campaign started because of the assassination attempts, but some bard students are here practicing their gifts and having a good time in each other’s company. A couple of hooded figures lurk at an ill lit table while they conspire, but being new recruits into the Flewminati they were sloppy and possibly a little obvious. Their attentions set on the bards as they were sending more and more drinks their way and keeping an attentive eye on them… Waiting. Mumbles of, “...any minute now… at the college… follow them.” They were attempting to dull their senses with drinks and follow them into the college because otherwise they cannot see it. After a long moment of waiting they pair of nefarious guys are having a subtle argument, “but what happened to the guys who did this last time?” A frustrated sigh, “we were told not to ask about it.” A scoff, “doesn’t that worry you?!” The hand with a tattoo symbol of the Flewminati slams a mug down on the tabletop, “won’t you shut up?” The other hisses out his next concern, “we could be sent to our deaths!” During their arguing they had failed to notice a few of the bards depart to head back to their dorms to sleep of their drunken haze while one lingers behind in the tavern. Curse words come from the two hooded figures and they attempt to slip out after them in order to see if they can catch the tail end of their trail.
Orderly Street
Mainly composed of homes, this street is quieter and less crowded than the other streets that surround Schezerade’s central fountain. Avians are still seen walking to and fro on errands, and several head to the lavish tavern to the east.
Eirik finds this establishment to be odd. Marbled walls, golden cups and avians everywhere. Such gaudiness is wasted on the Berserker. He only cared about the practical, things which had a relevant concept. Where they had beautifully crafted buildings, Eirik would have hung boards. They both accomplished the same thing. One took more money, and time. The other, looked like a shack. Back home, the only creatures to grace the skies were dragons. Avians are new to the Lycan, having only met handfuls in recent times. No matter how often he spoke with one, he couldn't quite figure out their mentality. Some came across as arrogant and stuffy while others more sincere. Perhaps the latter just wanted something from him? Instead of dwelling on such things he begins to ponder over the fact that he even got lost in the first place. The shady Flewminati members are noticed, during his eyeballing of patrons. They sat there, like a typical group of rogues and thugs. As if they were honestly blending in. He takes the time to notice what their target is. Two of the college students had just made their exit, while a third stayed behind. A quick plan formulates in his minds eye, they were up to no good. That much is obvious. Instead of finishing his drink, Eirik simply pours it over himself and stumbles after them; feigning drunk. " 'Scuse me miss!" Eirik hollars after the two students once outside - another adoring fan no doubt. Is he playing into their ploy? He knows he was loud enough to snatch the flewminati members attention, but perhaps not the others? Instead, his footing falters and he slams into one of the young rogue members; with enough force and weight backing him, that he might just topple the poor lad over. Eirik gives out a loud grunt, dramatically forming an insult in drunken tongue. This time he's sure to be loud enough. "Damnit, wa'ch whe' ya be goin!" Obviously, it wasn’t the nefarious members fault. It is Eiriks.
Brennia | The set of students meander out in the street and through the causeway of statues by the time a ruckus was breaking out so they had no idea what was happening. These two new members have argued with each other all day and are already thirsty for a fight when they shove the drunk guy off them with a, “what is the big idea!?” They start throwing punches and kicks and whatever else they could muster at the large and tall man, but once that started some other hooded figures appear seemingly out of nowhere and put the other two into a headlock and drag them away… Effectively cleaning up their mess. It is quiet and the night is still rather young, but that one last bard left behind observes, “that was odd… You okay?” Very smart and bright this one here… He was swaying slightly and obviously confused at what he just saw, “that looked like it was about to be a good fight.” A few blinks, “I think Baenia,” a giggle at the name some of the students have given her, “I mean… I mean - Dean Smyth should know about this…” One finger pointed up in the air with determination as they stumble their way passed Eirik and toward the college. Alone?! You’re going to let him go alone after what just happened? Tsk tsk.
Eirik takes their punches and kicks, presenting everything thrown at him with a smile. A warriors life is one of torture, torment and terror. His ploy had worked and all he had to do was distract them long enough to keep them from following their target. Once the members are dragged away Eirik brushes himself off, collecting the rage pooling inside of his mind. His drunken tone is dropped as the last bard follows out after him. "Beania? You mean Brennia?" Eirik follows after him without so much of a fuss. He'd protect the drunken man without much word. As for the other two, he didn't need to add bodies to the pyre everywhere he went. He thinks quietly to himself, it would have been a decent fight to start off with. "I'm supposed to meet with Brennia today. Do you know where I can find her?" He finally catches up to the man.
Brennia | The young bard man giggles again, “yeah it's what some of the students call her behind her back.” He motions for the man to follow when he asks where to find her, “right through here. I’ll show you the college. None of us has seen much of her since her campaign started.” He hiccups, “she keeps getting attacked and one time they attacked the college.” Another hiccup as they are passing through the gardens now, “that was the last straw for Dean Smyth and soon we will be calling her Senator Smyth.” Another hiccup and a wide grin, “that has a nice ring to it.” Hiccup, “I volunteer at her campaign office every week and if I know my Dean, she is,” hiccup, “st-still hard at work even at this hour of the night.” Silence rests between them before he mentions, “I was there when she was attacked recently after a debate and did you know,” hiccup, “that her bodyguard is a-” that thought would never be finished as the view of the castle came upon them and sort of glittered into view once they got close enough and it was evident that they meant no harm to those who reside within. “We are here.” Once inside he points to doors that lead back out of the castle to the west, “through the courtyard gardens, the storage warehouse next to the greenhouse is where you will find Dean Smyth.” He hiccups again and mumbles something about going off to bed.
Brennia will be found within the warehouse and of course within her office of the warehouse. She was hard a work on speeches, lunch dates with political figures, and sheets of music piled on her desk. Daermon would of course be standing outside her door to keep watch on the remainder of volunteers within the office space and of course her bodyguard would be the one to grand Eirik entrance into her private office. Once inside Daermon opted to stay, but remained silent and off to the side as to not seem intrusive. Liberty blue eyes look up to Eirik and a warm smile spreads across plump lips, “ah. Merry meet. You must be Eirik?” She stands to her natural six two height, but that is only accented furthermore by the onyx shaded wings peeking over her head, “I hope you found the college easily enough?” She noted he was late and her sultry alto timbre was warm and sincere.
Eirik is not normally an easy man to take in a fight; the evidence of a bruise along his jawline already forming. The marking, itself however is paid no mind. Instead, he continues to walk alongside the bard, eyeing anything which might jump out at them. The Lycans reflexes and ability at gauging danger is far above the average man's - having spent countless hours in endless conquest. Some of which are well known here in Lithrydel. Others not so much. He takes his new sights in, still wondering if his meandering would eventually bring him to Brennia or not. Who really knew? It could be days before he found her here in Schezerade. The bard's drunken dribble is only halfway acknowledged and before long, he finds himself in view of the college. The berserker's flicks those silver eyes from the painting and recreation area to where the training dummies stand. That area, is much more suited to his liking. Again, the beauty of this place is wasted on the brute, foregoing stalling his mind on such trivial things, and instead paying attention to the practical. He takes note of the bards directions and follows them to a tee. Sooner or later, he spots Daermon, giving him a slight nod. Eirik still probably smelled like a boozehound. Pun intended. Silver eyes flick to Brennia who is already speaking. "And you must be Brennia?" An eyebrow lofts as he examines her office. "It was easy enough." He points to his jawline, the bruise he carried. The only evidence of a struggle he had on his way here. Naturally he wouldn't have just let someone beat on him without good reason. "Some hooded fellows left their mark here. But a few of your students remain safe otherwise." He wouldn't mention it any further. "It's good to finally meet you. I believe we have a cursed little one in common. Ava?"
Brennia motions to the sofa behind Eirik for him to relax she gets him a goblet full of water, “please, sit.” Her gaze drops even lower, seeing as she’s taller than him, to his mini battle wound and this causes her facial features to look serious, “so I see you’ve met Schezerade’s boogeyman… The Flewminati.” She sighs softly and nods, “pleasure to meet you as well.” She cannot help to beam another smile, a bit brighter and one that pokes dimples into caramel cheeks at the mention of Ava of which softened Brennia’s features in a way making her a little more innocent seeming, “ah… Ava-Marie, my goddaughter. Not so little anymore,” she looked worried now and picked up the pile of sheet music that she has been working on, “I tried a cure on her and it seems to have slowed the effects… I am trying to compose a song or two to cure all of Lithrydel.” With the papers in her hand he might observe some nasty scarring from where a boil or two used to be mixed in with tatoos. “I hope to be able to do this soon.” She looked guilty in a way and as if Daermon knew what Brennia was thinking he gently reminded her, “Bren..nia. It is not your fault.” A glance to him and a nod, “I know.” She eventually finds Eiriks gaze once more and holds it within her own, “so you have seen her recently? How is she doing?”
Eirik hated formalities; especially ones pertaining to the oddball weave of a family he has stumbled upon here. He cared for Ava, Brennia being her godmother, but still found himself wrapped up in mixed feelings about Artia herself. He takes note of her dimpled smile and her posture. It isn't often that a woman stands taller than he. But she's an avian - that's to be expected. He takes the offered glass and then sits on the sofa she has pointed out. "Well, she's good. Growing faster than her mind can keep pace with." For obvious reasons he states such. Uncle Eirik, as she had always referred to him, still thinks of her as a little one. He still couldn't come to grips with the curse. But as for the news of a cure, Eirik is suddenly far too curious. The evidence of boils beneath the tattoos are simply glanced over. The brute carries a plethora of scars over his own body. A particularly gruesome one which stretched out over his facial features. Starting at the right side of his forehead, crossing his nose, down his left cheek and continues on down his neck. Fingers reach up to idly scratch at his stubble ridden features. "She asked me to come here and offer my help, should you need it. But it sounds like you are well on your way to a cure." He thinks for a moment or two longer. He wouldn't ask about what Daermon is referring too. "Is this 'Flewminati', causing you problems?" Eirik would send a detachment of Steel Collective soldiers here if she needed the added protection.
Brennia remains cool with that soft smile and while he talks her attention only upon him, but that was a talent of her’s as she is able to make anyone around her feel important and listened to. “Yes, I agree,” she mentioned to his concern of Ava’s mind. She takes the seat next to him on the sofa, but remained a respective distance and at such a close proximity he would pick up on his most favorite scent emitting from the avain. Atop of that the navy blues and forest green hues within the darkness of her wings is alluring all their own in the light of the office, “have you ever heard of the secret society before? People would look at me like I am crazy.” She pulls out a scrap piece of parchment that has the symbol sketched on it, “did any of those thugs have this mark on them?” She held it out if he wanted a closer look to inspect. She moves onto the curse, “I think I’ve come up with some good stuff with the bard’s guild. I know they are tied into this somehow and I fear that once I start that me or my bards will get attacked… So I could use some muscle here and on that day if you would like to help?”
Eirik ||The Northman, finds his mind rolling over recent events - trying to pin certain details together. Venturils coven. Larket’s which problem. The drug issue in Frostmaw. The attack on Cenril. Kahran. Perhaps this monster is really the source for all the lands issues? Could it just be a ploy to spread fear and panic? Either way, Eirik is wondering if he is somehow connected to the chaos of the Jar and the Flewminati? However, the Lycans states none of his thoughts. He is here for Ava and her alone. Well… Maybe he's also here because another friend asked him to be. Josleen. That's a different ordeal altogether. As for Brennia, none of his inward thoughts etch their way upon his features for her to take note of. Such is the mind of a leader, as she probably does herself. Thank the gods that be! Brennia is not cursed to wander this world without the concept of personal space! Though it might sound like a joke, Artia and Ava had never respected such a thing. Always hugging. Trying to touch. It was enough to make him sick. However, the smell of Brennia, where most might find scent of a particular flower wafting from her, Eirik only picks up on blood. Not that he is a drinker of such things. Nay, this is not the normal copperish taint that one discovers in humans. It is something altogether different. One mixed with sweat and fear. A twisted concoction only found in the fields of battle - for that is home. He takes a moment to hear her out and then look upon the symbol she has shown him. "I'm pretty sure they had that marking." His interaction was only brief, but he is confident. "I can and will help." He gives a firm nod, "I'll send Constantine." Looks to Daermon briefly. "He leads a small clutch of soldiers that are quite skilled in phalanx tactics. Armed with swords, spears and shields. He will ensure you and yours stay safe. If you have any messages you would need delivered to me, he can also help you out with that. I receive daily reports from the man." Water is sipped between his words. "You can order him around as you like. I'll tell him it’s a job." He turns his attention back to Brennia. "Though, one he will not get paid for by you." Eirik intended to fund Constantine's pay himself. "As for the group, I've never heard of them." Everywhere is in chaos. Even Schezerade. "If things pick pace up even more, I myself will come back to handle the situation."
Brennia has no qualms with personal space and actually welcomes touch for intimacy is not something she reserves for a lover, but for friends even though those are separate. She believes more than words and body language can convey how others view you or understand you, but she knows nothing of Eirik and she does understand that the majority of beings she meets are uncomfortable with people breaking their personal bubble. She presses on, “when the cure is to take place. My fellow headmistress of the bard’s guild has suggested that we place bards in each affected city and play at the same time during a new moon. This will draw the unseen wisps that are accelerating the curse towards Schezerade and then we will play a song there that will contain the evil once more. Would you be able to have guardians in each city when the time comes?” Another nod at the mention of sending someone else to watch over her, “very nice. I do need someone to protect the college seeing at the lycan I hired has not been seen in the past few weeks?”
Eirik thinks upon her words further. He wished the Collective had enough forces to help guard her bards around the realm. Truth of the matter is that it does not. "I don't have enough members to help out in every city. Right now, I have a detachment in Larket. The other will be coming to you. The rest, lay in wait at the Steel Collective Headquarters." Eirik stands to move to the desk and sets his empty glass down. "I do know a few people who might also be willing to help with this. I'll send them letters asking them to meet with you. I cannot guarantee they will help, but it's worth a shot right?" Beyond just speaking of guards and her plan, he wonders how all of this got started? "So in order to contain this curse, you need to station bards around in each city?" Larket and Schezerade would be handled by Eirik and Constantine. Xalious could be handled by the remaining collective members, seeing how their base is stationed there. The other cities were on their own. "How did this curse come about in the first place?" Finally, he asks the question that had been nagging at him.
Brennia stands and makes her way to the seat of her desk while motioning to the rather large black marble jar that looks to be pieced back together, “Vakmatharas’ Jar. It was created by a necromantic ritual eons ago. Prophesied to only be opened during a lunar eclipse by a bard of adequate ability. Rumored to be a myth and lost to the ages. I know it is no excuse, but being an avian we do not worship gods and I thought this was just some pleasant gift someone left for me. I had a party for Josleen and her heir to be and it was during the lunar eclipse when I heard singing from the jar. I was lead to it and opened it, but a friend of mine saw I was entranced by it and pulled me away thus causing the jar to topple over. No indication shown that anything other than a mummified larynx was within, but shortly thereafter strange things started happening because of it. I do feel responsible and this is why it must be me that fixes this.” She was looking down at a random paper upon her desk for she still feels shame.
Eirik takes note of the tale she weaves. Every detail needed to be presented to Queen Josleen as well. Her son affected by the curse, just like Ava. It’s a shame that such a thing exists. Though it's not entirely Brennia's fault. It is an accident. Artia was correct in stating as much. Josleen would be relieved to know this as well. She spoke of Brennia as an ally - though perhaps something darker had forced the jar into her hands. That is the next question that pops into his mind. "It's okay," that's about as close to empathetic and sympathetic as Eirik gets. "You'll fix it." However, Eirik is now further concerned about the curse and the contents of the Jar. "How did you come by this artifact?" Perhaps this is where the plot would thicken?
Brennia looks a little more hopeful and with Eirik’s kind words a little more confident than before, “thank you, Eirik.” She brought the conversation back to his soldiers to make a bit more sense of it, “I think one person for one bard and one bard will be for each city affected. Some of them are untouched. I will keep you updated with what I learn. I plan to make my way to Frostmaw, Larket and Alithya to ally with those I know there. So hopefully some places will aid us with their city guards.” She sits back and crosses on long leg over the other in his last question, “this… I am not sure. I have had this jar in my possession since I started the college over a year ago and it was merely left on the front door.” She sighs softly, “yeah, I know that is of no help.”
Eirik truly hoped that there was more of an answer than just a gift someone had given her. I mean, out of thousands who would drop off such a thing? Who would want to curse the entire world? Brennia certainly didn't want to. So perhaps his question, though once partially answered, is worded wrong. Frankly it didn't know how to further inquire about it. Hopefully she had tried a full investigation. Perhaps this is the working of that 'Flewminati' group giving her trouble here. "You're right though.. That doesn't help." Though their topics be grim, Eirik grants a smile towards Brennia. "I'll see what I can do about single soldiers helping out your bards placed everywhere. I might be able to swing it." Again, Eirik scratches the scruff of his beard, "I'll send Constantine a missive this evening. He should arrive tomorrow afternoon." Beyond that he didn't really have much more to discuss. "I know these are trying times." They are for the whole realm. "But keep your chin up, you'll get this resolved. The collectives blades will keep your bards safe. That I promise you." He shifts the topic one last time. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Brennia. For now, I have a few reports to file and must be off." He gives her a nod, and only waiting moments for her response before turning on foot and leaving.