RP:Current Affairs

Part of the The God of Undeath Arc

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

Summary: Kasyr seeks out Leoxander to discuss current affairs.

The Siren's Seven, Port Rynvale

Leoxander was in a surprisingly decent mood for it being just another night in the cove on a ship that still required some work. But the beams and rails were weatherproofed with stain and the lycan was hauling crates down into the underbelly before reappearing from behind double doors for the next bit of cargo his enhanced strength allowed him to carry without assistance. It was when the bottom suddenly fell out of his most recent lift that the wide rock enclosure echoed with the pirate’s curse, followed by a frustrated toss of the weak, probably termite infested box hitting the water overboard with a crash. Meant for the galley, Leo crouched to start stacking and collecting the cast iron pots and pans that would need to be organized in the mess hall eventually. Two other animals occupied the ship, one half blind and both twins growing into their lengthy legs with that puppy fur shedding in the warmer season for a red tinted coat, the blue-gray from their eyes shifting to auburn. And oh the sound they made in that stone surrounded place. It was more a roar than a bark, throated as if they inhaled smoke from a human’s fire with ears perked to rival a foxkin, for no apparent reason at all that the rogue could decipher, yet.

Kasyr has been busy. A day spent writing letters, of broaching a volatile political situation, and still no end in sight. At this juncture, he found himself increasingly grateful for the fact that the seamstress, that Stitch had re-emerged from her gloomy hermitage. Even if she was throwing herself into 'The Work' with a zeal that seemed almost escapist in intensity. But then, they needed that kind of focus. Everything was a mess now, as the steady flow of letters had erupted into a deluge of paperwork, as concerned citizens and influential members of the houses found themselves now confronted with a sudden uptick in hostilities aimed at them, as supplies meant for the dead city were suddenly subject to exorbitant taxes, or mysteriously unavailable. And it was only going to get worse. He knew that. And he knew the part he'd need to play in it. He glances about his room, at the drab interior, the empty bed, and silently curses- before he finally gets up to go to the wardrobe, still askew from when he'd picked it up before. Out comes his coat, looking a bit cleaner then it had before- and then he's out the door. Though, not without a rather keen warning to someone in particular, "Peek in on my walk, and I will hop over to you and kill you right now. You -really- should enjoy your grace period." With that warning said, he casually fishes a scalpel out from his pocket- and thinks long and hard about an evening spent in Rynvale, on a ship swaying in a hidden cove. A moonlit evening with crew & Coterie. A silver-y line forms in the air, a smooth part that overlooks black waters, and the Kensai steps through. Only- the Eternity isn't there. There is a boat, to be sure- but to say it exists in the same dimensions as the other ship did, and the same direction- was perhaps a bit too much luck to ask for. Which is why Leo's greeted by the rather abrupt sound of a several hundred pounds of Kensai and Coat hitting the water. "Cali-" Glub. Thank god he didn't have to breath. Because at this point, weighted as he was, it'd be easier to sink to the bottom and jump out, then make an attempt at swimming.

Leoxander wasn’t oblivious to the news that Miss or Mr. Herzegler had sent out. The rogue has his means of getting such information. But truthfully? It wasn’t his problem, yet, since Quintessa rarely showed her face (or true face) to ‘Rook’. Nor was he unaware of Iintahquohae’s situation with her dead, or possibly still dead husband, as he’d eavesdropped on the Mage’s meeting at their sacred tree before the primal situation or the deal with that. But the pirate Captain had enough sense not to dig his nose into business without a price that would benefit him, or the underground squad he worked with, or the ship’s crew and the territory of that island he was still building on. So for the most part, Leo had found peace in his own little corner of the world. It was as he was standing up with iron in hand that the silvery stream appeared in the slight distance from him and it reminded him of a dream like meditation Mahri had traveled through with him recently, reuniting the wolf to man, but a glance back showed no glowing eyes in the darkness that led to the ships lower level. Looking back, Kasyr was the last thing he expected to see, but he happened to glance in time to see the coated male crash into the relatively shallow waters of the cove, pending on how far away he tried to park. “Sh-...” The clatter on the ship followed the splash as he dropped his haul and moved to the railing to grasp it and look over the edge, squinting his nocturnal eyes before quick thinking had him collecting a decent amount of coiled rope. He knotted one end to the banister and attempted to chuck the other in the warrior’s general direction. “...Kasyr?”

Kasyr should have expected this, and he hopes to god the changeling had taken his advice, because the itch to murder her in some inventive use of magc, in tandem with her own scrying would be a warm comfort beneath cold waters. He'd had a few ideas, too. One which took advantage of that delightful sense of being watched she so often inspired. It's only with the abrupt appearance of a rope drifting down into the water after him that his mind shifts back to the present. Rather then jump and risk a second unfortunate accident, he lets it skirt down to within arms length, before making the ponderous journey up. And once he's cleared the waters surface (and coughed up the water that had tried to take residence within his lungs), he even offers a greeting, "The F-" Shouldn't the seagulls be sleeping, "happened to the boat?" There's a bit more time spent scrambling up the side, the swordsman's ascent a complication free endeavour that sees him heaving himself over the ships railing, and flopping over into a rapidly growing pool of water. "Bonne Soir, Leo. This was supposed to be more- Je ne sais pas." A hand drifts from the deck he was on, and then off to the side, "Not that." Honestly, that was a colossal botch almost on the level of his cabal days- though it still paled in comparison to things like being used as a battering ram by Darian. Bastard. "Anyways, do me a favor, and read this- then, just." The Kensai procures a now freshly water damaged envelope he'd left in his coat, offering it up to the pirate, even as he makes a few languid waving motions.

• A sopping Wet envelope contains the following*

• Though the ink has started to run, it's likely legible. Mostly*

=======

Dear Leoxander. Or Captain? Captain Leo? It's been so long it feels awkward writing this letter. It's worse because this isn't a house call. I need help. I'll Explain more - but, I'm not entirely sure how efficient scrying is. And I have an admirer who -does- not know the meaning of privacy. If you have a room that's warded against that, Don't say a word, just, wave me over et show the way. Otherwise, I'm going to have to creatively figure out how to commit Long Distance Murder.

​​​​​​​Kasyr

===============

Leoxander hauled Kasyr over the side and grabbed the back of his coat to help him the rest of the way over the beams. “It’s not the same boat, mate.” Flatly stated, though his confounded expression couldn’t be disguised. He knew the man was still about and slaying ancient creatures from the deep, but hadn’t really had a chance to meet his eyes or share any conversation until that unfortunate ‘jump’. “Lost her when I lost myself…” He murmured, taking hold of the missive he had to be gentle with to get it out of that sogged envelope in a state to look down toward and read, still reeling from the fact that he was there. The words were even more puzzling, but he wouldn’t be a rogue if he didn’t know how to read code. “You wan’a drink?” His head tilted in the direction of the Captain’s quarters, which was probably the most furnished and finished place on ‘Seven’. As directed, he wouldn’t say more. Yet.

Kasyr raises a hand as though to ask a question, then lowers in when it dawns upon him, that- even if it -had- been the same boat, there'd still been the chance of him trying this check, and the pirate being out and about. That simple thought makes all of this infinitely worse, because he's not even sure -what- would happen there. Nor was he overly inclined to find out, yet. Instead, the only thing he can offer Leo is a quietly murmured, "You too?" in response to his clarification. But then- there'd been an evening once, where the signs had been there- hadn't they? The swordsman lurches to a sitting position, a fresh bit of water hacked up as he does. He's waiting, really- Waiting for some sign of things one way, or the other- and when Leo starts to speak, there's a moment where the Kensai's arm lights up, and a faint crackle of something black starts to catch across his fingers- potentially sending a poignant and decidely abrupt vision of death to a spectator. And yet, those abyssal sparks find themselves dispelled by captains invitation- coaxing the Kensai into drawing back up to his feet, and trailing after the man. "Always. But more so these days."

Leoxander snapped his attention more potently on Kasyr with that display that he could only determine as magic. He had his hellfire burrowed deep somewhere but managed to keep it concealed as well as the brand on his left palm. Making his way to that door, he pushed it open and held it propped for his old acquaintance to enter, the desk bolted down being at the center of the room with some red accenting some lazily hung fabric to kill some of the sunlight from the large lounge couch in the break of day. Sitting in that heavy chair at the desk, he opened a drawer to pull out a half-filled bottle of bourbon whiskey with no label, evidence of good quality in the rogue’s eyes. There were no fancy tumblers on hand, so he poured into two tin mugs retrieved near a coffee carafe and press used in the morning to fill them both a serving, or two - or three. “So you got plans for me or should I just count this as a friendly visit? Lora’ sees a guy for that in Cenril if you jus’ want to talk at someone.” He might sound a bit short, but the wolf tended to crash through the bush rather than beat around it.

Kasyr may have shot Leo a grin when his attention had sharpened, a sort of crooked affair that almost comes across as sheepish when he notes the hint of exasperation mingled with wariness. "You'd be safe." ....Would the boat? That's actually a good enough question that actully has him trying to re-interpret what he'd just picked up on, and serves well enough to keep him occupied as he follows him into the ship- though the Kensai is kind enough to remain standing, given he's still dripping wet. Specifically, he leans up against the door frame, only really pulling away to accept the mug, the contents to be sipped at even intervals. Though, there might have been a slight double take at the captains questions, "Did you not-" Read the letter. You watched him do it, Kasyr. And he -spoke- before leading you in. "Calice." He -wanted- them to be watched then? Murder was definitely easier. The swordsman sighs, takes a mouthful of whiskey and begins anew, "I wanted to check in because of the recent happenings. Figured I'd get your take on things. Especially since I heard you'd been- busy here." There's a pause, and can't help but casually add, "And make sure you're safe. Been some terrible things happening in the various regions. Seems pretty targeted."

Leoxander shrugged initially at the man’s comment. “Well enough you missed the planks, mate.” If that didn’t ease his worry, nothing would. New boat and all. “You sayin’ how safe I am is only gonna make us more suspicious.” He had a chuff of a laugh over that before he took a drink from his own tin cup. “I’m gonna take a shot in the dark an’ guess this might have something to do with Miss Blackwell in her castle.” One would have to be blind to miss all the footnotes in the recent news and as he attended Vailkrin more regularly to cheer on his Ace up his sleeve, he wasn’t blind to the animosity she had built up recently. Combat boots often (almost always) worn from Donavan were propped at the corner of his desk as he tilted back on the two hind legs of that heavy chair. “I ain’t got those problems over here an’ wouldn’t let them live to last.”

Kasyr couldn't get drunk with any degree of ease, but a small part of him was tempted, if only because of how he imagined this would go. "That would be our luck anyways, monsieur. You should know that." The captains (accurate) supposition is met with a smirk, and an exasperated exhale. "Turns out her lover wasn't enough. She also had to shack up with a little godling. Sort of a toxic affair. He's pushy, et she's quick to follow orders. You might have read about him in some Cenrili papers. But the name's not worth speaking out loud." He...might have taken a bit more satisfaction out of that then he should have. Still, he was finding a feet here, "Maybe not yet, but if you're doing more than just pirating, here, I'd almost wager you might need to be a bit neighbourly et supportive of Cenril in these times." This thought he lets hang between them, taking a long swig of the drink til the cup is empty, and back on the desk.

Leoxander was reminded of Kasyr’s status by the way of his speech, a far cry from the criminal brogue he carried along. And yet, still, the two men shared that space and a drink together like a decade hadn’t just passed by with death, destruction and defiance in the mix. “I don’t have beef with the witch. I wasn’t the one who tried to roast her like a fresh kill.” He had a similar experience with Tipherath in the streets of Kelay beneath a swarm of scorpions and flame, but that was neither here nor there. “If she contends to keep the waters open an’ scratch my back now an’ then, I don’t see reason to not give her some support, particularly if it boosts our profit.” He tilted back his cup like it was weekday’s dessert, setting it down simultaneously as all four legs of the chair dropped down. “You’re doin’ yer thing, an’ I respect that. Why don’t you get to what I need to do an’ what you’re willing to offer. I saw that hole in Frostmaw, an’ you an’ I got history. So I ain’t about to leave you high an’ dry.”

Kasyr can't help but feel a sense of elation, if only because at least -one- day has gone by without someone trying to kill him, and things falling relatively into place. Sure, it had been an absolutely drab experience replete with answering letters- but nothing had caught fire. "I imagine you two will be able to come to an amiable agreement. But, I don't think you should take my word on it. It might be best for you to pay her a visit, soon, et talk to her yourself. She es recovering, after all." There's a pause there, before the Kensai casually adds, "That said- I may have a small favor. Despite whatever -official- direction you may take, I'd be inclined to ask if you'd be able to help smuggle a few items to et fro. Make sure they get to where they need to go. And I'd do you a courtesy of having something other than your resident danger magnet to greet vous." The shadow of mirth that marks his theatrical bow never quite reaches his voice, though there does seem to be a certain sense of satisfaction, "We can work out the specifics later. If something as simple as this would be satisfactory."

Leoxander sniffed a breath deliberately, having witnessed Valrae in a sling and intoxicated between champagne and medicine during the coronation. Nothing really got by him. “You know that type or favor comes with a certain condition, mate. My name ain’t mentioned. None of this bloody conversation is.” He reached to refill his cup if not Kasyr’s, given how tentatively he sipped at it. “It ain’t danger of people I worry about, it’s the words they use over fists. But I’ll expect due compensation.” Only the Kensai could get away with a contract like that, where Leo was usually the type to seek payment first. But he was also intelligent enough to know a favor in the pocket of that warrior was one he might want to keep. “What kind’a cargo are we lookin’ at? Somethin’ that needs conceal or jus’ anolther everyday load of bullsh–” Damn those gulls.

Kasyr may have expected Leo's testiness on that front, but it only elicits a broad, and uncannily pointed grin from the Kensai, "And you should know by now I'm good for it. Though, I think you might appreciate the aftermath, on a few levels." As for the cargo, that's the point where the Kensai actually steps back over and taps the cup, "Nothing -actually- elicit, monsieur. But that might not matter soon, given how..hostile things are looking. A cessation of trade will make even certain bits of common cargo invaluable- especially if other regions happen to follow suit. Et they -are- tight knit." There's a pause here, before the swordsman casually adds, "Et the distribution of goods that might be helpfully stripped of markers that they -come- from there es... Well." He let's that hang in the air between them, before lifting the cup up for a toast. Perhaps, this little antic might be enough to humour his Coterie mate, given the implicit scallawaggery.

Leoxander was a bit disappointed with how easy Kasyr seemed to be making this, but it also enticed a half grin of his own. It had been a while since he and the warrior had shared a drink and some shady conversation like this. “Don’t ask, don’t tell.” He cheered his fellow, former colleague with a raise of his refilled mug. “Let’s make this simple. You meet with my book keeper.” Also known as his fiance, now, but she had a great disguise as far as rogues went. “Destination, delivery, all that. I’ll make sure the product finds its point.” Enough said in open air, the rest could be deliberated behind safer walls and sketched down. “I’ll send the bearman with her.” For security detail, of course, because he wasn’t about to risk the life of his wife-to-be. “Date an’ time.”

Kasyr lets the clink of the cups fill the air for a moment and takes a celebratory swig, as this bit of business rounds out his evening. "Sounds simple enough. N' I can make sure things are at least safe et secure at the arrival point." If Quintessa sends anyone, Lora is likely going to be greeted by some PTSD inducing sights. Which, isn't apt to be the great first impression. So, here was hoping this went off without a hitch. Wait, "Bearman?" Actually, "Forget that. If I don't know, he can't be meddled with." The thoughts waved off, the glass is -downed- at this point, and then returned to the table, "I don't have to sleep, choose what's best for you, et I will be there. I'll need at most- " Given the security of this was set in stone, the negotiations would be simple, "3 Days? That should suffit. Ideally, have your chat with the good Mayor sooner than that, and figure out what to do from there, monsieur."

Leoxander stared in Kasyr direction for a good while before he repeated those words. “Three days, then. North of Cenril’s harbor where you can see the Turnt in the distance.” A half sunken ship that continued to decay, from what the pirate knew. “I’ll make sure to check up on the witch before then.” After finishing his drink, the pirate stood, obviously to escort his new business partner the hell off his ship. But Leo was smart enough to know Kasyr didn’t need to use the ladder off the side of the hull. “Don’t you forget that you owe me one if we manage this.” The door held open again for his departure.

Kasyr very casually plucks the scalpel he'd first used out of his pocket, and casually swipes it down through the open door- carefully seperating the seams of the world in favour of the room he'd departed from, or at least, directly outside it. A smoother exit to be sure. "A bientot, Monsieur. I'll make sure to be early." And through he goes, the curious space stitching itself back together a few moments either- leaving little evidence of it's presence, then the musty scent of a castle, and a curious tension in the air. A rawness in the fabric of space.