RP:How Pedestrian

Part of the Rise of Larket Arc

Summary: Macon and his Kingsguard take a walk through Larket and happen across a blacksmith, a mummy, and a dark elf in the town square. Nikola (perhaps unintentionally) attempts to offend everyone present. Deals are struck and information is doled out all around.

Larket Town Square

Macon walks the streets of his city accompanied by a six-pack of Kingsguard. An observant stalker of The Death Knight’s comings and goings will notice that at least two of the men charged with protecting his life have been switched and replaced in this entourage in the past week. As per usual he greets citizens by name, stops to discuss various aspects of the war effort, or takes some verbal abuse from dissenters, who there appear to be less and less of with each passing day (for whatever reason). The King of Larket is decked out in his usual silver armor, with The Rage Axe, albeit without the furious stone at the center of its bladehead, strapped to his back. Atop his head is a simple, heavy crown of marble, which any that attended his coronation will note is very different from the golden crown he claimed then. Though news of the theft of the previous crown and The King's thwarting of an assassination attempt made on himself have long since made the rounds in Larket and explain the difference in headgear. Macon’s escorted stroll takes him south from Fort Freedom, down the main road and into the town square…

Ernest was not whistling as he walked. Or humming. Both of those activities were rather difficult to pull off, what with his lack of very good faceflesh at present. But he wanted to. After all, when you've gone a whole week without being able to say -anything-, having a silence curse finally broken is worth celebrating. And he didn't even need a new jacket with this particular fight. That was good, because his current jacket had been quite expensive. Bought it from that weird snail-shell import shop--it was black, with edges that glowed faintly in dim light, giving him an oddly wraith-like appearance. It was funny how terrified some of the townsfolk who didn't know better got whenever he passed by. Hmm, what's this now--kingsguard! And Macon what's-his-face himself! He leaned on a lightpost in a place they were sure to pass by, watching with a bizarre, almost predatory grin. Not like he could help it--desiccated skin tended to make all your smiles look awful.

Why was she here in the first place? Who knows. Good equipment must come from good materials. Earlier today she was at Craughmoyle buying ores and now she is here, looking for customers perhaps? Who knows. As the Kingsguard demanded it, everyone began moving a few feet from the road to allow the VIP to walk by. She was already at the sidewalk, sitting on a crate where she placed all her groceries. A stick against the ground with her hands on it, chin pressed against her knuckles as she glanced around, "My my, who do we have here..." Smiling as her draconian tail wagged alittle. "Ah, a beauty that is." clearly she is not referring to the man or his soldiers, mostly on the equipment they are carrying. She is a blacksmith afterall, she is far more interested to the intricate designs and craftsmanship.

Iengris kept mainly to the shadows, the day was not particularly bright, but it also did nothing for her vision which was much more suited to the lightvoid Underark. It was also easier for her to scope out the wares vendors were selling if she kept closer to their tents. Her focus was interrupted by the one of the Kingsguard demand that she move back. Begrudgingly, she moved back, it would not do to cause a scene.

Macon eyes Ernest briefly as their paths cross. The King doesn't recognize this gruesome undead and neither do any of the six of his protectors, though a not-present member of The Death Knight’s inner circle likely would. The former sheriff's attention is pried away from the man and his glowing jacket by Nikola’s armor-directed catcalls. The King breaks off of his steady pace through the square and veers the dragon’s way, raising a gauntleted hand in greeting and calling out to the woman who crafted The Rage Axe and the armor he now wears, “Nikola. Just who I was hoping to see.” This is only a half lie, as he has been meaning to find the blacksmith, but wasn't exactly seeking her out just now. Meanwhile the Kingsguard do their thing, flanking Macon, none of them particularly concerned with the presence of a drow up on the surface in Larket, an anomaly that has been becoming more and more common these past few months.

Ernest found himself summarily ignored by the king in favor of someone he knew. That was fine. The way things tended to go with him recently, people started fights around him. Maybe it was the fact that he tended to attract vultures. See? Up there, in the sky, the half-dozen circling buzzards, just waiting for their shot at... something? Ernest, perhaps, or maybe those he leaves in his wake. Sometimes it set people on edge. And speaking of on-edge. A drow woman! Another one! Last drow he'd seen had tried to mass-murder a whole street. He locked his eyes with her directly and offered her a respectful tip of his hat, that horrible too-wide grin never fading. He didn't speak, but those yellowed, half-glazed eyes said it all: "I see you there."

Nikola keeps her head glancing around as her aura continues to flow around her, Most would simply ignore it as the wind however others with a keener senses would know it was something else. Flowing around her, allowing her to map out her surroundings by simply remembering how many metals does a person carry to their person and where they are right now. Blinking as she turned her head to the drow whom she met the other day. She is quite sure it was her, her blades are in the same pockets as before. Turning her head back to Macon as she replied, "Who are you again?" Clearly she is far more interested to the arsenal the man is carrying. "Now I know why the weapon looks familiar... Oddly enough I remember the gear but not the customer. Care to enlighten me?" She didn't even bother looking towards the guards as this person seems to be royalty and she could be executed for talking to him this way. She doesn't mind. They could try... Oh how she wish they try. There was someone else amongst the crowd however. "Oh, there is also somebody near carrying crossbows." Staring upon the guards, wanting to know their reactions. She could feel the shape of the weapon and the intricate mechanisms it has, curious who made it, making her glance at Ernest.

Iengris was not surprised at the King's dismissive attitude toward her presence. She knew more of her kind were making their way to the surface, for different reasons. Most were carrying out orders for the Matron, or more likely, were half breeds. Whatever the case, it was none of her business. She could feel two different sets of eyes on her, a mummy with a crossbow and the dragon from a few nights back. Iengris was less interested in the former, although she brought her steel grey eyes up to meet his in acknowledgment. Her permanent scowl moved not an inch, and she moved her gaze back to the Draconian female.

Macon narrows his eyes and curls his lips downward into a frown at not being recognized. In order to facilitate the dragon’s memory he unholsters the great axe from behind his back and waves the blade end in her direction, “This ‘elp?” One of the Kingsguard shouts towards Nikola, “You are speaking to the King of Larket! Sh-...” and is cut off by a piercing glare from said King. “Macon.” is the last hint the former councilman gives her while those guards in his group collapse in around him at the warning of crossbows. They only get within arms reach of the death Knight and each other and the path between Macon and the blacksmith remains clear, the leader of Larket hardly paying notice to the close proximity of his men while he continues to address her, “I happen t’have another reques’ for you, if you care t’take it.” In the meantime at least half of the Kingsguard follow Nikola’s glance towards Ernest with stares of their own.

Ernest happened to overhear that bit about crossbows, and when everyone turned their gaze on him he just kept up that friendly grin and waved, peeling back the quick-draw flap on his longcoat and buttoning it in place, revealing a small repeating-crossbow placed in a holster at his hip. He patted it lightly. "I can do tricks with 'em too, yer highnessss," he called, his voice a little dry from disuse. And with that, it was out of its holster and spinning on his finger. A second repeater came out of his jacket, both weapons spinning at once, and then he tossed it over his shoulder and caught it behind his body, the first one never slowing down. "Traveling... exhibitionissst." A lie. A very bold lie. He was a hitman and he looked the part. Buuut, there was no way anybody could prove him wrong.

Nikola turns her head back to Macon as she watched the ax as he brought it before her, straightening her back as she pressed a finger against it and allowed her aura to flow through the metal, if it was hers she would've left an engraving into it somewhere, hidden that unless one would dismantle it, it will be nearly impossible to find. She doesn't want to embellish the beauty of the weapon at first and it adds a bit of secrecy to it. Would one risk to dismantle it just to prove it was one of her creations? or would the naysayers simply need to see it in action? She nodded and said, "It is indeed one of my children." smiling as she run her palm against it, as if greeting a love one. "A stone is missing here..." she points out at the gap where a gemstone used to be sitting. "And King?" looking onto his head and seeing the crown. Its.. Marble? she isn't sure, she turned to the other man and said, "Intricate weaponry for an entertainer..." then she turned to Iengris "Don't tell me you'll juggle your knives as well." she is practically throwing everyone under a... carriage at the moment.

Iengris simply rolled her eyes at the suggestion, but emerged from the shadows nonetheless. "I do no parlor tricks with my weapons, Dragon. They are not playthings." she spoke calmly, "When they leave their sheath, it is to find a fleshier mark." she turned to Ernest, looked him over once, and sighed. Such a creature belonged in the Dead Caves. She wasn't one to judge though, she'd done her share of heinous things. Turning back to Nikola, she spoke quietly, "Your King wants something from you in case it escaped your observation. Although perhaps you're busy trying to cause trouble."

Macon has been thinking on his feet since long before his rise to the throne began, and so, despite the speed at which it comes out, his dismissal of the incriminating missing stone seems perfectly natural, “It is being polished.” He watches Ernest the entertainer’s display while answering the kingly question from the dragon, “King indeed. A recen’ developmen’. One tha’ll mean this job I ‘ave for you is more lucrative than the las’... An’ slightly more interesting, I believe.” He isn't quite sure which of those two incentives means more to the woman and offers them with equal weight in his voice. Iengris is regarded with a sideways glance as she speaks to Nikola, if he can hear what is being said he certainly doesn't let that fact on.

Ernest decided, since he was being mostly ignored in favor of more interesting conversation, that he might as well holster his weapons. He did so with a flourish and bowed, tipping his hat. "I do trick shots as well," he said, still grinning. "Say--any of you happen to know of an old, shall we say, leading act of mine known as the Blue Demon? I got a little show I need him to help me with." He walked over in that direction, longcoat flowing behind him.

Nikola turns her head alittle to Iengris, "I know I know... I don't make crowns though." Turning back to the king and said, "I am no one's servant, no one's subject. Nor he is a king of mine. He is merely a customer." Smiling as she pondered. "I make weapons and armor but not crowns. You don't seem to be a mage to me so even a magical head-piece might not suit you." She turned her head toward the undead and said, "How much are you selling those? I want to dismantle it. Recreate it..... probably." learning new intricate mechanisms might be a bit problematic and she might not be able to rebuild the thing once she is done with it. "And here I thought you are only carrying them to make you feel better." Smiling at the drow. "Oh you know me, doing as much mayhem as I can for my own satisfaction."

Macon shakes his head, the heavy crown shifting atop it with each movement. “You misunderstand. The crown I have serves its purpose well enough. I wish for armor and a weapon for a mighty elf.” Perhaps Jhaelyn wouldn't care for such a description, but a King describes people how he wants. While the death Knight us explaining himself his entourage engages Ernest, or rather listens to his deceitful question. It has been several months since the so called Blue Demon has been seen in Larket, but at least one of the current members of the Kingsguard is familiar with the assassin in question. Though pinning down the location of that monster is not something this Larketian feels comfortable doing, he is at least slightly helpful in providing a time frame, “He was here, killing mice, earlier this year. Dunno where he's off to now.” Frostmaw would be his last known whereabouts, but the guard is not confident enough in this knowledge to divulge it. At least Ernest knows that guy is still in Lithrydel…

Ernest beamed and rubbed his hands together. Wonderful! So the man was still alive, and people still knew about him. "How long ago was this? Did anyone see which direction he left in?" If he could give directions, he could set off to find wherever he'd stopped last. Start doing some proper tracking of his victim I mean leading act.

Nikola frowns alittle, "Aren't elves prefer to make their own? Their body shape is alot taller than humans and they prefer lighter gear forcing smiths such as myself to use weaker metals and in a way, trying to expand it to match their body length would further weaken its surface." She doesn't know if the king even understands what she is talking about. "However I never back down from a challenge. I need to meet this person however, What weapon are you intending to give? And please don't tell me that this present has to be a surprise, it would be far difficult to get someone's measurements." She turned to the undead and said, "Is that a no then??" she doesn't really care about politics or current events to even bother to understand what the two is talking about, she just want to master her art.

Macon shakes his head, not exactly understanding the technical difficulties Nikola is describing, but he seeks to put her at ease with one fact, “This is a dead elf we are talking about. Powerful. I do not think you will have to resort to lighter metals. As for the weapon… a great sword. Both the armor and blade must be able to withstand bitter cold, and they should be made similar to my own with slots for gems, which I can provide, that will be used to channel ice magics.” The King contemplates ruining the surprise at the request of the blacksmith and nods once, “I will send her t’you for measurements, though I'd prefer you not give up any details about the items while taking them.” The guard speaking to Ernest shuffles his feet, looking down at them while trying to recall what the undead wants to hear, “Half a year ago. Maybe. I heard Frostmaw, but…” (don't hold me to that.) His sentence goes bashfully unfinished as he inwardly pleads that he not be shot for providing what could be false information.

Ernest must have missed the dragon's question the first time in his hurry to catch his prey, and blinked and looked at her with raised eyebrows. "No to wha--oh--" Then he remembered, and shook his head with a laugh. "Not for sale, and especially not for dismantling. They're perfectly-balanced for me, specially-designed to fire as quickly as possible, and there is no way I'm gonna let someone else put their claws on 'em." He allowed his quick-draw flap to slide back into place, his coat hanging evenly. With that, he turned his attention back to the guard. "Hm. Worth a look. Thanks, friend." He extended a hand to shake.

Nikola scratches her head alittle. "So.. a ceremonial gear for a corpse?" people do sometimes let the dead wear armor before they are buried because this person has been a great warrior or something. "Or is this person like him?" pointing at Ernest. "I would assume that this time the gemstones would be provided before hand so I can put a cage on them. It might not be the most beautiful but it will stop the stone from getting taken..." the man said it was removed, and apparently, forcefully. Taken away if she would suggest. The stress on the metal is different when she took hold of the ax. "Intricate little mechanisms is more of the toys of a clockwork. It does get.... destroyed when magnets comes along. Though curiosity is still curiosity." She smiles as she look upon the undead intently, as if wanting to steal it.

Macon’s guard sees no harm in shaking the hand of a dead man, and so he does it, “Sure.” seeming to end their conversation about The Blue Demon. The King tilts his head, indicating Ernest, “She is like him and not like him, as you will see.” Her question of the gemstones is met with a nod, “Yes. It is not necessary tha’ they be easily removeable this time aroun’. All necessary materials will be delivered to you once you have gotten the measurements. You are working out of the same space still, yes?”

Ernest turned his head very slowly towards Nikola. One by one, on nearby buildings, the vultures began to drop down and land on the gutters. His grin was still present, but all pretense of humor had vanished from his eyes. Another buzzard landed, and then another. The rooftops slowly gathering a congregation of watchful eyes. "Lady," he said, making an effort to keep his voice pleasant, "if you touch my weapons in any way, there is no force on this continent that will save you from me." It was stated very matter-of-factly. It was not made as a threat. It was spoken as a promise. No further detail was added, because the barely-concealed cold fury that burned within those bones and ACHED to lash out at something, anything, but was saving itself for a particular target... had just found someone new to focus on. And the vultures, they knew.

Nikola began to laugh as the man started threatening her. "Oh how would I enjoy to see you try." Smiling brightly as she turned to the King and said, "I'll accept the order, And all my tools are my hands, including the forge. All I need is space, time and an anvil." She stood up from her crate and hefted it over her shoulder, One would say it would be impossible for her to carry such. But dragons would be dragons. "Send message via courier and I'll be ready."

Ernest considered for a moment showing her exactly how fast his draw was by putting a quarrel right in her smug face--maybe even a cursed one, this woman was reason enough to spend an Undertaker's Ire, he felt--but decided that it would be better to do such a thing later when the Kingsguard weren't breathing down his neck, and drawing without intent to fire seemed like it'd be a hazardous thing to try. Without a word of goodbye, he turned away and stalked out of town, the vultures gradually lifting away and flying after him as his longcoat flowed behind him.

Macon spends another half-glance towards Ernest when Nikola attempts to egg him on, but it doesn't appear dodging something fired out of a crossbow is a thing neither he nor the dragon will need to do today. Before the smith has a chance to leave, The King lets her know that an anvil is readily available at Fort Freedom for her to use, and that an extra set of hands can also be provided to assist there should she want it. With that, The Death Knight continues his stroll through Larket, his guards falling quickly into place around him as it becomes clear they are moving again.