RP:Drug and Dodge

From HollowWiki

Part of the The Dust Up In Cenril Arc


Summary: Tensions are high as one of Lionel's troop detachments gathers in Kelay. Seeing an ideal opportunity for dust-peddling, Eleanor makes her way through the gathered souls, but finds herself in a bit of a ding-dong-dash scenario as Lionel, supreme commander of all, catches her in the midst of pushing the narcotic Firefly Steve onto unsuspecting soldiers.


Kelay Way, Kelay

Lionel edges past numerous recruits as multiple tents are set at various points beside Kelay Way, overseeing preparations for the evening's makeshift military compound. In all, six tents are being assembled, with the fabled Kelay Tavern considerably overbooked thanks to the Catalian's armed forces stationing themselves in the region for the evening. The long march from Xalious back to Frostmaw will see Lionel's battalion overbooking several more inns before they're safely returned to the queen and her castle; just now, Lionel is mulling over which tent he'll sleep in, not one to claim a bed when eleven of his hard-working men and women are roughing it a bit out here. He notes Talyara somewhere near the perimeter and offers a lame little thumbs-up to Mesthak as the dwarf eyes the provisions wearily from afar, no doubt anxious to see the commander and his troops gone early on the morrow. They're friends, Lionel and Mesthak, but the fallen hero has oft been naught but nuisance to the wizened old barkeep. As if sensing this distress, Lionel makes no move to approach him, and instead scans the treeline for possible weak spots in the fencing. Confident things are under control, he flicks a strange insect from the cuff of his black long-sleeved button-up silk shirt, and fetches a plum for late-night feasting.


Sariel stares at Eleanor.


Eleanor just loved the gatherings of these late days. Plenty of souls to feed upon, as it were. Wearing her usual garb of cerulean cloth and soft brown leather, the spell blade made her way toward the edge of the encampment, celadon twins shifting about in search of someone to whom she could peddle her pixie dust. Soldiers were always in need of diversions, after all, and she was happy to supply them with their alchemical desires. Lionel she does not recognize, but that doesn't stop her from eying him in curiosity before weaving her way past a few people to stand beneath the shadow of the inn itself. From there, she produced her leafy cigarette, and lit its end with a snap of her fingers, producing a small blue flame that was snuffed out as quickly as it came into existence. "Sae mony fowk haur, ye woods hink someain died," she muttered to no one in particular. She took a drag of her sinful stick, letting its herbal smell permeate the air as she returned to observing those around her, a bit of a smirk aligning her lips.


Talyara :: True to his word, Lionel had agreed to allow Talyara to join him and his battalion on the journey up to Frostmaw. Seeing as she was not actually a part of this group, however, she sticks close to the tree line, a shoulder leaning against the bark, with her arms folded against her body. She spies Lionel and his thumbs up, gives him a smile and a dip of her chin in a distant greeting. The witch is dressed simply, wearing a simple pair of leggings, an oversized sweater, and leather worn boots. Unlike the others who carried large packs, Taly wore a small bag about the size of a melon at her hip. Her long chestnut locks are twisted into a single, heavy braid which hands over one shoulder. Emerald eyes flick to her left as blue flames suddenly catch her eye—the had flames just like that. But for now, Taly was content to make herself as small and invisible as possible.


Draben | It had been an uneventful night. Exhausted, the elf stepped quietly from the tavern and its coagulation of scents – ales, smokes, and others less familiar to the ranger. Stepping outside, however, did not yield the same landscapes as it once had earlier this day. Instead, a large number of tents, doubtlessly occupied, littered the sides of the road. Figures moved like shadows on the edges of his vision, casting haunting shapes across the dirt road using the light from the tavern as a source. Quickly then, the elf moved. Long strides moved the man from the tavern’s entrance to the opposite side of the street, where the elf chose to stand and watch this party at its camp – ears straining to gleam the strands of conversation that would surely deliver information as to its purpose and destination. Tanya set herself up in a tree where she felt more confrotable. She peered at the growing crowd unsure of why there was so many people in the area at this time. The last few days its been so quiet. She sits on the lowest branch on the tree and let her blood red eyes dart between everyone's faces. Not seeing Anyone she recognizes she signs slightly and just listens in on the surrounding conversations. Being careful to not get herself noticed.


Lionel approaches Talyara as he bites into his plum, and in so doing, he misses the movement of two of his younger recruits -- a brother-and-sister duo by the names of Michael and Helena -- as they saunter off from their tents in search of a certain scented cigarette. Helena, more outspoken and ambitious than her junior, states her intentions clearly to the woman with the foreign accent and the snuffed blue flame. "Can't find a good stick in any of these homey boonies," she complains to Eleanor, chinning toward the cig. She's Catalian, and Michael, too, of course, and the slight lilting notes reflect it. "I've got some coin, if you've got some candy." Michael seems apt to chime in, but instead he stammers, and runs a hand through his thick dark curly hair, nodding. Elsewhere, the soldiers are settling into their bedrolls, save for the unlucky few on first shift guard duty. And what of Lionel? Well, he's finally arrived near Taly, and he leans against a nearby oak. "Nice weather we're having," he says tritely, but then he shifts gears considerably. "So tell me about this Linn fellow."


Eleanor kept her eyes trained on those who came and went from the area, sizing each individual up as a potential mark for her game. She eyed Talyara, and Tanya, and even Draben, whom she had only recently met, before her gaze was ensnared by an approaching pair. Helena was given the spell blade's attention then, the woman straightening slightly as she picked apart the other's delicate accent. With a broadening of her smirk, El reached out with the leafy cigarette, offering the female a drag even as she went on to say, "Ah aye dae," came her reply. A small pouch was produced from the woman's belt, tucked away and hidden in some secret place no doubt. It contained a blue powdery substance; the famed Firefly Steve was back on the streets. "If ye ken whit yoo're gettin' intae, lassie, ye ken Ah shaa facilitate." El's celadon twins shifted around, then, to make sure she would not be ratted out by any self-righteous gits this evening, before passing the pouch to one of the siblings. "Teel yer friends it's back," she added in low tones, gaze twinkling in the half-light.


Talyara continues to people watch as she draws deeper within herself. Ever since the dark times in her homeland, large crowds make her anxious. Couple that with her newfound, uncontrolled empath powers, and Taly is feeling a bit overwhelmed. She smiles when Lionel approaches, rolling her doe-like eyes at his contrite comment on the weather. The witch moves nearer to the Catalian, standing on tiptoe to snag a bite of his plum and catching the juices on her chin with her finger. “Are you expecting there to be an attack here on Kelay Way?” She asks in slight amusement. It was rather hypocritical, though, for Talyara had walked thrice around the makeshift campsite, spilling a trail of salt as she walked and muttering a spell under her breath. Lionel’s comment about Linn ears him a cocked brow. “What about him?"


Draben | The tides were turning. What had initially been a largely uneventful day seemed to be shifting to something of worth. These individuals, whoever they were, definitely held some level of importance. One being a leader of this band of soldiers, the other a close friend. If the elf was to learn anything about this camp, its intentions, and its destination, he would surely scavenge the information from the pair. In the distance, brown eyes fall upon a familiar sight. The same woman from Cenril, offering the pixie dust. Judging by the two soldiers who had approached her, she was having a significantly greater level of success here. There were others present, surely. He could smell them in the air – he could sense them moving in the shadows around the camp. He would stay here, stay and listen. The situation would unfold as it always does, and Draben himself would make the decision whether his presence would grant more useful information, or only serve as a distraction. There would be no reason to needlessly engage these strangers.


Sariel :: He awoke suddenly, with a throbbing head and quick pulse. Breath came only sparingly to him; yet, shutting his sensitive eyes to faraway lights, Sariel tried to sit up. His sense of balance swam, and his stomach lurched, though he could not remember having eaten anything offensive. His core spasmed twice, and, turning his head quickly to the right, he vomited into the underbrush. Were his eyes not so tightly shut, he might have noticed a low scarlet light accompanying the contents of his stomach. But then the episode was over. Sariel stood upright, suddenly more alive and suffused with vigour than he could remember feeling in his short lifespan. Immediately he glimpsed again the distant torchlights -- curious beyond his own comprehension, he turned in the most improbable of directions and, with a crack like thunder, appeared on the outskirts of the gathered camp to consider the strangers milling about.


Lionel shrugs at Talyara's question over possible attack, although his azure eyes trace her plum-snatching productivity with keen interest. He prefers his associates to be so strong-willed and cunning; indeed, a woman who will eat another man's fruit without asking will work harder to protect herself and others if push comes to shove and they are in fact assailed before reaching Frostmaw. "It's not so dangerous a place as it once was, but it's still plenty dangerous," he answers, and then he takes another bite. "Lithrydel, I mean. All around us. Frostmaw, Xalious, Rynvale -- there's plenty more dense political and militaristic infrastructure than there once was. The land's not quite so lawless these past few years, but you never know. And besides," he says with a smirk, gesturing all around him, "if nothing else, there's never a shortage of drunken fools come waltzing in where they don't belong." He plants his left foot up against the bark and kicks off of it softly, propelling his lithe, shapely body forward a full meter in a relaxed little shove, and then he folds his arms and glances at Taly in earnest. "Nothing, really. He sounds important to you and it's a name I've not heard before. What's his livelihood? His aspiration? His favorite food?" The Catalian chuckles, shrugging again. "Just curious, I suppose. You asked me to be myself with you. I'm a terribly curious person." A ways away, something far more sinister is afoot. Michael's mouth is half-agape, and worry streaks his pale fresh facial features. Helena, however, eases him with a gentle pat to the shoulder, and accepts the substance on their behalf. "This looks positively miraculous," she whispers excitedly, and she reaches into her pocket to fetch a relatively meager amount of copper and silver and gold, which to her is worth far more than it likely will to Eleanor. "What do I owe?"


Eleanor kept her pale eyes trained on the siblings for the most part, but the arrival of Sariel forced her to look away, past them and toward the edge of the camp. A child was there, was he covered in something? Blood? Grass? She couldn't tell from this angle, not with the light bobbing from torches and the two soldiers standing in front of her. Usually, it was twenty gold pieces for a gram, but she could obviously lower the price; get a sampling of the product out there into the world again, and she and Huds could debate prices later. "Yoo're in luck, loove. Ah will cut ye a deal, sae lang as ye teel yer friends whaur ye got it. Guid fur business, ye kin." That being said, the spell blade reached forward to pluck whatever coins Helena produced, feeling their weight before she tucked them into her belt. Full lips pulled back into a roguish grin, and she went on to say, "Hae ye used thes afair ur dae ye need a demonstration?"


Talyara is many things. Probably, above everything else she is sweet and caring. But indeed she is cunning and playful and has bouts of mischief, so she doesn’t think anything of stealing a bit of Lionel’s fruit without asking; in fact the whole ordeal seems rather normal to the half elf. She blows out a heavy sigh when the Catalian expands on his question, Taly smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean for that to come out harshly,” she says unfolding her arms and cupping the back of her neck. “All these people. Lots of emotions. I’m…a little on edge.” And then, back to Linn. “He is an enchanter but I honestly couldn’t tell what all he does with his meddling. I don’t know -exactly- what he aspires to be. Favorite food is probably stew. At least…that’s the only dish he knows how to cook,” she chuckles. Although with Lionel she is relaxed, the woman constantly looks over her should, emerald gaze cast upon El, Draben, everyone. Taly crinkles her nose and looks at the group at large, her own stomach lurching with Sariel’s, although she doesn’t retch. “Someone isn’t feeling well…” She comments, turning her body slightly away from Lionel. “And others are up to no good,” she mumbles, eye roving over the group of people.


Draben | Sure, these people could probably detect the elf’s presence. It was no surprise, and he expected it. Detecting emotions though, was another case entirely. These people, whoever they were, clearly were much more than what they seemed at face value. Brown eyes carefully studied the woman with the emerald eyes – she had to be something special. There was no other explaination. Rolling his eyes at the exchange of gold for dust that was happening more or less on the edge of the campsite, Draben takes several strides towards the transaction. Nodding to the dust-peddler, the only familiar face present, he gives a tentative smile. “You’ve found fast buyers.” He says quietly before turning toward the older female soldier. “Who do you work for? Where are you headed?” The words came out in a rush, and noting his tone was a hair too demanding, he tossed the soldier some copper pieces in hopes to alleviate any tension that he may have created.


Tanya continues to watch what is going on. The vampriss reaches up with her slender digits and pushes her hair out of her face on the left side. Careful to not touch the right side of her face so her scar stays covered not able to be seen, Letting herself move off the branch, the woman lands with a thud as her feet land on the ground. Knowing she may have made enough noise to be noticed finally the woman leans against the tree. A slight smirk is seen upon her ruby red lips.


Sariel :: He strode forth out of his dark corner after staring awhile at the thronging soldiery and their retinues. It was all so unfamiliar to him - the teeming hordes, the wondrous and awful sounds and smells - after his interminable time in that tower. He didn't even think at how he had escaped thence, so enraptured was he in absolutely everything. The blast of a blacksmith’s furnace demanded his gaze, then the screams of a certain class of women admiring well-bedecked warriors. Everywhere he cast his sight was there some bright novelty – and then he nearly ran into someone he might have thought belonged there even less: A woman highly adorned in body art and covered over in foreign celadon garments. “Pardon, ma'am,” he muttered, before absconding between two ill-lit tents to her right. From there, he continued to observe, and wondered at just how many wandering the camp did not belong.


Lionel broadens his smirk and shakes his head playfully downcast once Taly makes mention of Linn's favorite food. "I hadn't actually expected you to tell me what he likes to eat." He returns his gaze to her now, and a patrolling guard separates them from one-another's lines of sight briefly as he steps between them, all shoulders and height. Once he's passed, Lionel clears his throat, finishes his plum, and continues. "I'm sorry there are so many of us here. It must be hell on your empathy. Would a short walk wayward of everyone else help?" It's only then that the Catalian registers Sariel's sorry state, and he snaps a finger at the burly guard who had only just meandered by, then snaps a second time in the direction of the lurching onlooker. "See that he's alright," he orders, and the soldier obliges, and paces up to Sariel and says, in a simple, heavy tone, "are you alright?" The soldier's name is Aurig, and Aurig always does precisely as Aurig's told. Lastly, Taly's gesture toward two recruits and the woman Eleanor. It's this that prompts the commander to a sigh, and he gently takes Taly's hand and gestures to the trio. "Let's go see," he advises, and if she'll comply, they'll make their way to the scene of the drug deal. Helena, at about the same time, watches all her coins on-hand switch hands entirely, but she puts on the tough face of a seasoned vet of underworld negotiations -- or rather, tries and fails to do so -- and she nods, as if she understands anything that's happening. "A demonstration would be wise," which really means she's never seen this before and she's in way over her head. Michael can only tremble, and he's all but knocked over by Draben's abrupt approach. Helena finds her recently-emptied hand filled anew with some copper, and she squints her eyes at the interloper and blinks, sizing him up and down. "Ser Lionel, the hero," she replies, as if it's the kind of thing everyone ought to know. "We make pace back to Frostmaw, to our castle, to report to Queen Hilde." She'd really think it splendid if this fellow moves on, so that she can get her demonstration. Suffice it to say, Helena has no idea Lionel and Talyara are not so far behind her by now, but Eleanor's forward-facing position ought to give her ample time to cover up.


Eleanor's grin could not possibly grow anymore. Oh, how she loved her work. She opened her mouth to begin a quick explanation of how to use the dust when Draben and Sariel made their way toward them, each in turn. Draben was given a cursory glance at first, being knee-deep in her business as it were, before affording him a more thorough appraisal. "Och aye, 'at Ah hae," she said to him. She let him ask his questions of Helena, the topic inspiring both brows to rise, the answer a curious one to be sure. Ser Lionel. She did not recognize the name, nor the title of "the hero". Everyone wanted to be a hero these days, but not her. She preferred her own roles in the world, slowly building her way up through the underground networks of Cenril. The Oracle would be pleased with her efforts, El would see to it. With Sariel all but running into her, the woman side-stepped into Draben to avoid being toppled by the boy, and took that moment to look around proper. People were approaching now, and she had yet to illustrate the use of Firefly Steve for her awaiting audience. "'at wooldnae be th' Ser Lionel comin' thes way, woods it?" The spell blade would have to be quick if she was to be successful with the transaction. Without hesitation, she re-took the pouch from Helena, and poured a small amount of blue powder into one tattooed palm. She returned the pouch to the soldier, then used one hand to draw on the other, cutting the powder into a small alchemical symbol; the powder began to glow faintly, and with a wicked grin, she held it over the soldier's head, sprinkling it atop her cranium. "Hae a guid time, loove." Eleanor did not intend to stick around to wait for the dust to take its effect; after all, who has thirty minutes to spare with two strangers approaching looking all intent on finding out what they're up to? With that done, the rogue was quick to withdraw into the shadows, relying on the night to envelop her into its dark embrace between tents.


Talyara immediately spins on her head when she hears someone land with a soft thud in the woods. Instinctively, she takes a step closer to Lionel once more. It’s not so much that the witch is hopeless in terms of defending herself, rather there is a strapping hero right beside her so why not allow him to do what’s best? As the Catalian finishes his plus, Taly spies a droplet of juice rolling down his chin and she rolls up on the balls of her feet and licks at it (just ignore her, it’s just a thing she does, it’s really no big deal). She watches curiously as Lionel literally snaps his fingers and is able to command others to do his bidding. “How curious, if I want to get people to do what I want I have to control their minds. Snapping seems much easier.” Soon the witch finds her hand occupied by Lionel’s own and the two are off towards the drug deal. Taly’s a short little thing, so two of her strides equal one of the Catalian’s. Couple that with the weaving between all the other bodies and the witch quickly tightens her grip on Lionel’s hand lest she lose sight of him. Green eyes attempt to stay locked on the woman but one moment she sees her hand over Helena’s head and the next she is gone.


Draben | It seemed as if fate had turned on the elf. Uncontrollable tides, indeed. Ideally, he would have preferred to have kept some form of anonymity, but that cause was now long lost. Several individuals, those both otherwise occupied or hidden, all appeared to be converging on the two soldiers and the dust-dealer. This meant, by association and proximity, the elf was too forced into contact with many more than he had initially intended. Before he could even respond to the soldier’s reply about this Lionel and the Queen of Frostmaw, his time is up. Clearly trapped with the puzzled soldiers, and the woman happily handing off dust before bolting herself, Draben has no choice but to turn and face those who are approaching, as fleeing the scene would only incriminate him further. He turns slowly to face the two approaching. “I think one of your soldiers is about to have a rough night.” He says matter-of-factly.


Sariel :: Sariel’s faraway appraisal of the green-clad woman’s wares was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of approaching armour-upon-flesh. There stood before him asudden a hulking man, upon whose breastplate there was inscribed a sigil that, despite all his years sequestered away in the Tower, he could not place. The elfin child heard that his welfare was inquired of – but all his senses could perceive was the queer manner in which the breastplate’s decoration seemed to move beneath the shifting torchlight. “I…” he whispered, seeing the awful shape undulate in a most terrible manner before rearing back into the metal garment. “I’m f…-“ He saw the draconic shape bristle within the confines of its copper haven, before it lunged at him. He recoiled on instinct, turning again in that impossible way only to rematerialise a few metres from his erstwhile position. Shivering in fear, he looked around, and saw the soldier who had confronted him looking perplexedly upon the space he’d only recently occupied. Ere long he became alarmed, as too did the elf-child. And so he ran, knowing that he did not belong there. The shapes of those far larger than he protected him, then did the voluminous folds of various tents, and then the impenetrable dark of the forests beyond.


Tanya lets her eyes dart to Lionel he seems familiar to her like she has known him in the past. Still unsure of how these people are going to react to her. In her travels she has had many make attempts at her life because she is a vampire. This has made her very wary of meeting new people. Reaching up with one of her slender digits she traces the scar on her right cheek before shaking her head and dropping her hands. The vampriss takes a few steps towards the crowd. Her black leather skirt clings to her hips and her fishnet leggings look a little worse then they actually were although they did disapear beneath her boots at the knree. From a distance her bodice clings to her slender frame as the ranger slowly moves closer. Still trying to not draw much attention to her presence. The woman eyed Eleanor thinking to her self that the woman seemed nice but still didnt make her presence known. Moving back to the tree as the others congregate more in the area she darts her gaze between the soldiers. A little fear and worry starts to pass her brain as she realizes she is surrounded by so many men. Noticing the woman turn and move closer to the man the vampriss backs up a little not to seem threatening. The vampriss uses her really good hearing to allow herself a chance to hear what is going on. Climbing back in the tree she moves between trees to the top of the tavern where she sits down on the roof and looks down watching the interesting involvement of everyone that is in the area. Still not voicing to anyone till she had decided if they are going to attempt to hurt her in any form. Because of her past she is leary of new people she doesn't know. Reaching out with her slender digits she grasps her gloves that are adorned upon her hands and carefully adjust them so they sit better on her hands.


Lionel fast approaches the scene of the transaction, Talyara in tow to ensure she doesn't get further lost in the empathic hubbub of the many tent-nestled soldiers and their last conscious thoughts of the eve. It seems the apt course, and besides, the commander feels a certain degree of responsibility over the person of anyone who might tag along for an expedition, whether inside or outside his employ. Thankfully, he needn't sully a free hand with a handkerchief to dabble plum juice; this particular traveling companion has an appropriate reaction for that. Thus licked, the Catalian arrives at his destination just as the recruit Helena is doused in blue particles and blinking enough times to appear more caricature than real-life breathing being. Her brother Michael's jaw is further-slacked, and an idle hand is at his mouth, and he spots Lionel and his eyes then bulge. "I, I, I, I, I, I, I," Michael says, that's seven times total on a single letter, and by now Lionel places a firm hand on his shoulder, gives it a shake. Michael stammers no more, and immediately begins explaining the situation, unprompted, even as Eleanor disappears into the shadows. But no one's listening -- or at least, not Lionel -- because he's in fast pursuit, but the woman is a fickle creature, and he can't find her for the life of him. That's how it goes for Lionel O'Connor, who has seemingly lost the suspect and has no great wish to awaken the entire battalion over this. He tilts, studies Helena. He's no great expert at drugs, but has enough basic understanding to recognize that this is, in fact, a drug. "The hell's going to happen to you?" he asks, not quite the esteemed captain one might expect, and Helena can only shrug meekly, her hands to her cheeks. "Hell if I know, ser," she replies, and surprisingly enough, Lionel merely nods. "Well, two things, then: we'll get Zot to look you over, and also, never frakking do this again." Helena's eyes bulge rather much like her brother's at the mention of Zot, a particularly short, particularly unpleasant dwarven doctor, but she abides, and heads to his tent, her head beginning to swarm with the effects of Eleanor's sale. Aurig, some distance from all the commotion, grunts and guffaws, giving zero chase to Sariel because Aurig only ever does exactly as specified, and Lionel said no thing of giving chase. And of Tanya, there is a single slender young wanton guard, who whistles inappropriately at her, the scoundrel he is, and asks her business.


Eleanor is long gone by the time Lionel attempts to trail her, probably having used one of her various methods of transport to head back to her hideaway in Cenril. It will be some time before the full effects of the pixie dust happen for dear Helena, but she is in for an interesting night to say the least. Euphoria is something not everyone can accomplish in their life, but this dust certainly paves the way.


Talyara :: The sudden surge of emotions so deep in the concentrated area of people has Talyara inhaling sharply, the lithe witch stumbling on her feet and grasping at Lionel’s arm to brace herself from falling over. Eleanor’s desire to disappear, Sariel’s fear, Draben’s anxiety at their approach. It was too much too fast, a-nd the witch found herself cursing in elven under her breath at her own inability to better protect herself from this type of thing. It seems those that the Catalian has decided to give chase to the rogue drug mistress for her stumbled steps soon become a bit of a jog. Really, Taly probably could suss her out, pinpointing her feelings and strategically deciphering where they are coming from like some sort of emotional navigation system, but her heart’s just not into it (unless Lionel asks her to because she’s a sweetheart like that). Talyara nips at her bottom lip as the captain barks orders at Helena and the brother sister duo disperse. “One day. One day you and I will have a normal day,” she informs Lionel.