RP:Hudson Airlines, Laboratory Services, and 'Medicinal' Herb Emporium

From HollowWiki

Part of the Agitation Arc


Summary:' Josleen needs a lift to the Eyrie HQ to give the (novice) alchemist Hudson a sample of the black ooze. What a coincidence! Her ride is Hudson astride a flatulent gryphon named Griff. On the way, they discuss their relationships, double date ideas, and kickball.

At the HQ, after more chatting, a little singing, and the discovery of a mutual acquaintance, Hudson administers a series of tests to the ooze to no avail, but just as his patience is about to give out, snap! A depressive talking ficus tree pops into existence and with its first breath of life on this plane belittles Hudson and Josleen, begs for death, and cries for his mother. Not yet deterred, Josleen asks the ficus questions and is given a clue into the nature of the events in Xalious. The interrogation process is long and stressful, and Hudson breaks out a hand-rolled 'herbal cigarette' that he shares with Josleen at the window. They smoke silently and Josleen, now very relaxed and meditative, puts a few more puzzle pieces together.

Suddenly craving cakelog, they raid Hildegarde's private stash, break out in song, and discuss kickballl. Again. Josleen is thrilled... /s. The time comes for Josleen to travel to Vailkrin. Another Eyrie member is her ride.

The Cliff (near Mage's Guild Tower

A day or so before this, Hudson receives a note from his higher-ups in The Eyrie that assign him the task of flying to the cliff south-east of the Mage's Guild Tower in Xalious to pick up a VIP passenger named Josleen. She will need a ride from Xalious to Frostmaw, then Frostmaw to Vailkrin, then Vailkrin to Xalious. Pick-up time is 20 minutes after first light.

The rising sun illuminates the right side of Josleen's face as she sits on the cliff facing north. She yawns sleepily into the back of her hand and fights heavy lids. A small backpack acts as a chair for now. A large purse sits in her lap full of lady secrets, caged behind her elbows that rest on her knees and hold up her chin. She doesn't last ten minutes in this position before she falls asleep. Her head twists to the side in her palms and kinks her neck. Her improbably shiny, long hair catches the sun as it cascades over her legs so that from a distance, straight on, she looks like a beheaded mannequin unceremoniously dumped on a cliff.


It is his writer's greatest regret that Hudson does not have use of Cleopatra the engineered flying horse yet. He's got some sort of flying critter on loan for this assignment. It's a gryphon(EN1) with IBS that Huds has been assigned for reasons unknown. The gryphon, whose name is Griff - yep - is in a rare mood today and suffering from extraordinary indigestion.(EN2) The pickup is scheduled at the crack of dawn - no, 20 minutes after it. #Brutal It's a miracle that Hudson hauls himself out of bed and onto his ride. He's late picking Josleen up, not because he'd planned his departure poorly, but because his gryphon has to stop along the way to relieve himself. The situation appears to be mostly resolved by the time he reaches Josleen... 20 minutes later than he's supposed to, and that's with a little reckless driving. Josleen's more-or-less prostrate body is an alarming sight to touch down to. "Hey! ...Josleen?" are Huds' alarmed words of greeting, delivered upon the landing of his gryphon, who unleashes a fart upon impact with the cliff. It's like a tiny horn. Fortunately the smell disperses more or less immediately. "Wow," says Hudson to his ride. He dismounts and moves to Josleen, who at close range looks asleep rather than in imminent need of medical assistance. "Yo, Josleen. Wake up."

  • (EN1) A gryphon is a legendary creature with the body, tail, and back legs of a lion; the head and wings of an eagle; and an eagle's talons as its front feet. Because the lion was traditionally considered the king of the beasts and the eagle the king of birds, the gryphon was thought to be an especially powerful and majestic creature. The gryphon was also thought of as king of all creatures. Gryphons are known for guarding treasure and priceless possessions.
  • (EN2) Griff had spent the night chained up outside Hudson and Sargaso's shack off of sea breeze. Owing to the generally destructive and nosy nature of a cat-bird hybrid creature, Griff had picked through their trash and eaten the following items: three (3) expired packets of onion-flavored crisps, two (2) untouched, not-expired fruit cakes, one (1) unfinished tuna salad, three (2) sides of coleslaw, one (1) set of shoelaces, and one (1) porno magazine.


Josleen's nose wrinkles in her sleep in the wake of Griff's fart.(EN3) It seasons her dreams with a musicality too subtle and nuanced to describe in words. Think of your fondest memory, bathe it, and you come close to experiencing the sweetness of Josleen's cliffside reverie, as enhanced by Griff, least of his line. Hudson yanks Josleen out of Ansel's dream-buffed arms and she rights herself with a deep inhale, eyes still shut. "Mm." She blinks several times to focus on Hudson. "Oh, hey. Huds. Fancy seeing you in Xalious." Griff comes into focus behind the rider, and Josleen slowly fits the puzzle pieces together. "Are you giving me a lift? Wow, you're really early." Josleen doesn't wear a watch, and sleep has a talent for folding time in on itself so it no longer slides by. "Mm," she sighs a second time as she stands and passes off her pack to Hudson. "I'm going to Frostmaw to..." A grin slowly dawns on her face. "Uh, you." Her wits gather at last. Her fingers rake through her hair and the familiar spark on focus ignites in her stare. "I was going to visit you, actually. I forgot you were in The Eyrie. As is Alvina..." Her eyes widen at the memory of Alvina in her apartment confessing to facts about Hudson and Alvina's intimate lives. She glances at Hudson's fist for size.

  • (EN3) Griff is the least-respected member of well-respected family of gryphons who counts among its members Gru, the diabolically plump, error-prone villain of much fame and little consequence; Gonzo, the blue-feathered journalist who championed reporting with a slant; and Graj, who needs no introduction. Griff is in the Hollow Book of World Records as the only gryphon capable of playing a bagpipe with his rectum.


Hudson is leaning over Josleen, blocking her view of the sun with his unshaven face(EN4) and bad haircut. "I'm your ride, I guess I hadn't put together that it was you I was picking up," he has to admit, reaching for her pack and slinging it over his shoulder, where it looks like a toy pack.(EN5) "So, I guess it must be some alchemy stuff? Cool," he says with a hitch upward of an eyebrow. He pats Griff, who cuts another one at the touching and then ruffles his feathers self-consciously, as if to deny guilt. That noise totally could occur sans fart. Right. "He's been doing that all morning, it's why I was late," says Huds, his arm coming behind Josleen to touch her back in the sort of generic male herding motion that's supposed to guide her toward the creature. "Sit in the front or back, don't care," he tells her, climbing in to sit either in front of or behind her, depending on her selection. "Soooo, how's Ansel?" he asks as they take to the air, depending on the narrative either one arm securing Josleen's waist or her arms encircling his. During the journey over, he flips through the normal sequence of benign questions you'd ask your friend's girl, whom you happen to be transporting via gryphon. The things Hudson has to report are equally benign. Things are fine. Kickball in playoffs. Up against the Rynvale team, possibly going to advance, unclear. Alvina in Xalious, has Josleen bumped into her? Yeah, she's missing the first playoffs series. She feels bad about it. It's fine, it's fine. He was thinking of getting tickets through his mum's centaur mafiaoso connect to see Saylor Twift because he secretly likes her - who doesn't? - and surely Alvina would like that and it'd be a layup where girlfriend brownie points are concerned. Did Ansel and Jos want to make it a double? If Ansel says he doesn't like Saylor Twift he's (expletive) lying. Everyone likes her. You just have to nut up and admit it to yourself.

  • (EN4) Hudson has spent most of his life clean-shaven, living under his mum's roof, no surprise to anyone, etcetera. Upon his release into the wild, he's spent longer and longer between shaving 'incidents.' Such incidents occurred with less and less frequency. Before, they had been loosely clustered around dates with Alvina. Now she was out of town; it was anyone's guess. The wild and surprise success of his kickball team - due in very large part to a recently acquired home run punter named Coenis Yespedes - had led to a sort of unanimity among the men to just... cease shaving. Kickball men were devoted to rituals and superstitions like this. For example: (1) Beneath his shirt, Hudson wears not one but two evil eye pendants. He normally wears just one during the season for games, but it being the postseason... better double up. (2) It is well known that the Xalious Cubs suffer from a longstanding curse cast by a disgruntled game spectator who was asked to leave on account of his goat being too smelly for other patrons. (3) Some of Hudson's teammates, if they've had a particularly hot game, will literally eat the same exact food and do the same exact things the following day, to try to keep the streak. As if it mattered.
  • (EN5) He is a big guy who plays sports, obvs he has big hands, for ref.


Josleen chooses to sit behind Hudson. There’s something less intimate about sitting behind him rather than in front. Not to mention that if she were to sit in front she’d have a clear view of his hands, his weapons of snatch destruction. She pulls her perfumed sweater over her nose. It’s no evil eye pendant, but it wards off the evil vapors combusting out of Griff’s feathery exhaust pipe. Her arms loosely encircle Hudson’s middle, mindful to leave room for Ansel(EN6). Speaking of whom, he’s well. As well as he can be, considering her marital status: obstructive. Speaking of which, Alvina did visit with Josleen and seems unaware of her marriage. Josleen is thankful Hudson kept her secret, and could he keep it just a little longer? As in, indefinitely. Likewise, she indefinitely keeps the reason for Alvina’s visit a secret—at least a secret from the chauffeur. Josleen does a pitiful job feigning interest in kickball(EN7). No attempt is made beyond a falsely cheerful “That’s great!” Hudson’s plan to surprise Alvina with Saylor Twift tickets delivers a blow against Josleen’s green heart. Ansel was once more romantic. Then she confessed she’s married and the romance went predictably out the window, then jumped in a handbasket and continued straight on down to hell. Her bitterness is hinted at through the acidity in her tone as she replies, “You’ll have to ask him.”

  • (EN6) Ansel’s mass distributes with a heavy preference for height over heft(EN6a), thus the space between Josleen and Hudson is not necessarily very large.
    • (EN6a) For those who require additional detail(EN6ai), the ratio favoring length over girth applies only to Ansel’s figure in general, and not in any particulars contained therein.
      • (EN6ai) Josleen would like the names of those who require such detail, excepting Lanara of whom Josleen is already aware. Names should be mailed to Tetraphobic Box #4 (not to be confused with Standard Box #4) at the Xalious Postal Office, in care of J.V.D. (Josleen’s Villainous Double).
  • (EN7)Were Hudson successful in recruiting Ansel to the league, an opinion on the sport would surely manifest, positively at first, then bleakly as it dwarfed his other interests, namely her.

Eyrie HQ in Frostmaw

Hudson, during this conversation, wonders if he's supposed to self-disclose that he ferried Josleen over to Frostmaw.(EN8) Speaking of disclosure, of course he's more than happy to not disclose that Josleen is married to Alvina. Agreed that the best course of action seems a long-running coverup, but is Josleen getting divorced? Because the ideal situation would be if their conspiracy to conceal Josleen's secret marital status eventually mooted itself. He has to advocate for Ansel, yeah, yeah. Man, that guy needs a better job though. Maybe he and Hudson should start a business.(EN9) In any event, yes he'd rather not tell Alvina, he thinks it might upset her, and over nothing really. She's very wholesome. Rather just try to get everyone to Saylor Twift and have a good time without the spectre of Jos' infidelity. Of course her marriage was probably dead before Ansel was on the scene? Sure, hard to untangle such things. Hudson sympathizes. He'll talk to Ansel about Saylor Twift. Griff tries to steer them off course,(EN10) but is denied by Hudson and rather shortly after that, they land at the Eyrie. Hudson, ladies' backpack still slung over his shoulder, is helping Josleen off. "Come on then, you want to tell me what this is about?" he asks, finally getting to the purpose of this trip as he leads the way - although surely Jos knows it - to the laboratory area.

  • (EN8) Reasons in favor of disclosure: (1) best to hear it from Hudson, because for Hudson not to self-disclose would suggest that it was some clandestine trip (which it is not), and (2) he might well hear it anyway, from somebody else, which would be awkward. Reasons against disclosure: (1) it's no big deal, (2) suddenly everyone will be analyzing his interactions with Josleen, and (3) it sets a bad precedent, because he's bound to forget to disclose some dumb thing at some point and get himself in hot water.
  • (EN9) No.(EN9ai)
    • (EN9ai) Except at the Hollow version of burning man, which Hudson brings up to Josleen during this flight. They should totally go and have a grilled cheese stand. The desert bit is unfortunate, agreed, but, everybody's on drugs and you don't notice after awhile. Yeah, he went last year. Would Alvina go? Hahahahahahahahahahahaha Alvina at this event. Soberly: she'd try, he thinks. (If only to make sure he didn't die, which...obviously he wouldn't.) Say, what on Hollow did she and Josleen talk about?
  • (EN10) REMINDER: GRIFF EXISTS. Griff's veering off course was actually related to his long-standing crush on a Frostmaw eagle, whose beauty cannot be denied, even on a cross-species basis. She, of course, won't return his calls (ha ha, get it), because of prejudices against half-cat, half-eagle creatures. Griff has, in his limited gryphon brain space, devoted considerable real estate to the sadness surrounding his rejection by this magnificent creature, and even, when the eagle in question was spotted with a mate of her own species, penned a gryphon's love song, which sounds an awful lot like a popular tune by Cee-Lo Green, except in a squawked format.


Josleen’s grip on Hudson tightens whenever Griff cants left or right. He’d be forgiven for momentarily thinking she is trying to snuggle up to him. She isn’t, but the difference is indistinguishable. During one particularly dangerous turn and correction, Josleen yelps loudly in Hudson’s ear. Embarrassed, she explains that she once fell overboard off the old airship between Larket and Vhys. An Eyrie member rescued her. Her focus narrows on the back of Hudson’s head to avoid vertigo. The majestic snow-capped mountains around them fly by. Is she getting a divorce? She hopes so. Yes, difficult to untangle, but the truth is she’s miserable at home and happy when she’s with Ansel – when they aren’t arguing about her marriage of course. She’s about to let the subject die there, but Hudson presents a unique audience. Her closest friends know her as Ezekiel’s wife, and Ansel will not entertain a single conversation about the facts of her marriage(EN11). And so Hudson is treated to more than he may have asked for. Comparatively, she tells him, she and her husband hardly ever argue, because neither of them care. Though Josleen suspects he would care if she left. The arrangement is convenient for him. She irons out the particulars of his life, including meals, and plays the part of respectable wife in public, so he doesn’t have to do anything but invent and be a genius. All of this is further complicated by her father’s love for her husband, the son he never had. Although she doesn’t come right out and say it, she’s afraid of losing her father’s approval. She also doesn’t say that Ansel’s financial situation stresses her out, but Hudson can surely get there on his own. No further comment is made on the Saylor Twift concert, a lost cause though Hudson can discover that on his own. Frostmaw’s chill grounds her, literally and figuratively, and Josleen rummages through her pack without taking it off Hudson’s arm. Sweater, cardigan, jacket. “Right, so I don’t know if you read the news.” She puts all of these layers on under her coat. As they walk to the lab, she explains the strange storms afflicting Xalious. The way plants decay to black inky film, vegetables and trees turn to stone, and fire elementals leap to life! She can’t use the lab in the Guild because she has reason to suspect that some in the Guild may be behind all of this, and covering it up. Thus, they must work without Guild resources. In the laboratory, she rummages through her large purse. Mystery papers rustle, keys jingle, little lacquer boxes click, until finally she locates a leather pouch, containing a glass vial, containing the black ooze. “The first time Ansel and I touched it, it did us no harm. The second time, it burned us.” She hands over the vial then removes her glove to reveal first degree chemical burns on the mend.

  • (EN11) Ansel is, frankly, a grump and will not entertain many things, including a trip Hollow’s burning man, as she informs Hudson. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA x2. Tripped-up hippies wearing nothing but pasties and loincloths are not his bag. Josleen could probably convince him to go with, if for no other reason than he is a pathologically jealous man(E11a) and must guard his territory f.k.a the person, Josleen. But given the crowd at this drug-fest, Josleen welcomes his possessive nature.
    • (E11a) Hudson should disclose.


Hudson is fairly focused on steering Griff, but has every man's sixth sense of knowing when he's come into contact with a boob. It's pretty easy to be professional about a situation that isn't going anywhere and that moreover he's caused himself through his aggressive driving.(EN12) All the same, there's an initial strangeness, a speed bump in the social niceties as Hudson struggles with the necessity of this inadvertent cuddle. He acknowledges it head-on: "Yeah, maybe I can slow it down a bit." And then of course he doesn't. He's a captive but willing audience to Josleen's Marriage Struggles. He would definitely feel bad if his mum didn't like Alvina, he tells her. People always act like they're ride-or-die and that parental approval doesn't matter, but if E.L. didn't approve of Alvina, he would have had to choose, and in all likelihood, well, sure he loves Alvina, but making it through that kind of stress isn't something most people are cut out for. (And he's a momma's boy.) Maybe Josleen understands what he means.(EN13) But luckily E.L. loves Alvina/is obsessed with her/is already naming grandchildren. Which aren't happening anytime soon, he adds, cryptically. He diverts the subject back to Josleen's Woman Problems, and makes a vague reference to trying to get together with Ansel, no agenda specified but it should be pretty clear.(EN14) At the Eyrie, Huds likewise pauses to dig out a wool coat of sorts from a pack that's been strapped to Griff, relatively out of the line of fire. He ties the gryphon up to his assigned post and, with a good-old-boy pat on the head, moves along, muttering little noises of understanding as Josleen briefs him on the situation. He hadn't read the news apart from the Sports section, but he acts like he does. "Right," he says, eyeballing this sample Josleen's dug out. They've finally reached the workshop area, and so he reaches to take hold of the glass container. "Sounds like it changed properties to me," he makes a super obvious observation. "I mean all living matter is made up of the same stuff," which he doesn't exactly have great command over, because that would be OP, having command over carbon! #AlchemyByHudson. He reaches for a sample dish and a device with many magnifying lenses. "So I guess if you don't mind, I'm gonna release the kraken?"

  • (EN12) But why so aggressive, Huds? In part it's Man Impress Woman. In other, less immature part, he's trying to make up for the time lost due to Griff's struggles with indigestion.
  • (EN13) I.e., the gravy train.
  • (EN14) DO WORK.


Josleen, like most women, is only aware of her boobs when in Seductress Mode.(EN15) She currently is not and is oblivious to the boob-to-back assault she’s unwittingly committed against Hudson.(EN 16) At Hudson’s assurance that he and Alvina won’t be getting pregnant anytime soon, Josleen wisely keeps her thoughts to herself. (EN17) In the workshop, Josleen waves a hand for Hudson to proceed. “By all means, though I should clarify this same ooze that burned Ansel and I did not burn a third party named Linn who was exposed to it as well. It was the first exposure for Linn, second for Ansel and I.” Hudson’s obvious observations inspire little confidence in his ability. Josleen told Hildegarde Hudson’s a poor alchemist. And given the fact that this ooze, unbeknownst to Josleen, possesses a long forgotten form of dark magic, this mystery may be above the kickballer’s league.

  • (EN15) This mode is activated through the ritualistic application of make-up, perfume, a bra cleverly designed to lift and separate; as well as a social tax levied against the woman’s closest girlfriends wherein they must sit and endure her fussing over the man who’s caught the seductress’s eye. Taxed girlfriends pay the tax by agreeing that the man is a Total Catch (TM), their honest opinions notwithstanding.
  • (EN16) Perhaps Hudson need not disclose this part of the ride to Ansel.
  • (EN17) Harhar. Abstinence is the best form of contraception, virgin mothers exempted. Huehuehue.
    • (EN17a) Though if there ever was to be a best candidate for virgin conception, it’s sure to be Alvina.


Hudson grunts in response to this additional information, and he goes about reaching for two sets of safety goggles, one of which he pushes into Josleen's hands. "Right, so. Safety first," he tells her in a monotone, with none of the cheesy manner of a school chemistry teacher. Goggles on, Huds reaches for a pair of gloves and pulls those on too, smirking beardedly in Josleen's general direction. Not exactly the most competent at his craft he may be, but he has some pride after all. "Yo, I do do things besides play sports and drink beers," he tells her, detecting - or was that his imagination - a lack of confidence in what's going on here.(EN18) These little preparations aside, he unstoppers the bottle over the dish before lowering himself eye-level to eyeball the black ooze directly. He then walks around the table to go eyeball it from another...more far away angle. It doesn't seem to be moving. OK. Very scientific inquiry here. "You know what this makes me think of?" he comments, approaching the dish again and slotting it beneath the bulky magnifying machine. He turns a number of dials and begins to sing: "Oooiil and grime, poison sludge!" A beat. "You know this song?" Another verse follows.(EN19) Click-click-click. His singing stops abruptly. "Wooah, it's pretty animated in there," he tells Josleen, bidding her to come take a look. "I think we're dealing with unstable matter. I want to try to turn it into back into a plant to test the theory, maybe you should stand back." Yea, that's right. Stand back. Because he might detonate the area.

  • (EN18) It's not that it was obvious. It's not. It's just that, when you're a guy like Hudson, raised in a private school and with a mum like his, you grow up with women who tell you at every opportunity that you're the best at what you do, and who utter little words of encouragement in dulcet tones, making even their criticisms sound pleasing. Anyway, that's not happening here. Josleen's looking at him like a bored girlfriend who's sick o' his sh%t but patiently enduring it anyway, which is bad because they're not even dating.


Josleen pulls her goggles on enthusiastically. Amateur alchemist or not, it’s exciting to pretend to be a scientist. She’s pretending, he’s not, as he defensively asserts. She sticks her hands up and says, “I didn’t say any different.” When he drops to eye level, so does she. “Nothing’s happening.” She follows him like a shadow as he moves about the lab and lifts onto the balls of her feet to get a better view of the magnifying doo-hickey. Several times she is in the way, and is always quick to apologize and reoffend. When Hudson breaks out into song, she instantly joins him a measure later and harmonizes perfectly (if not competitively) with his voice. “Slime beneath me, slime up above! Oooooh, you'll love my, ah-ah-ah, toxic love!” When he nails some higher notes, she suddenly feels the need to throw in some vocal belts and unusual, show-boating harmonization in this minor key.(EN20) Once Hudson has run all his tests (several, this player assumes, given the length of Josleen’s story), she asks, “Well?”

  • (EN20) All spooky songs are written in a minor key. A lesson Josleen had reinforced the hard way while she was still a student at The Cenril Academy of Music. During her second year, she directed and scored her very first play as a class project. The play she chose was none other than the notoriously nuanced The X-Files, a Hollow-famous play about two Cenrili special investigators, Sculder and Mully, who track the occult through the city’s seedy underbelly. Josleen, in her youthful ignorance, thought it wise to subvert hard rules about stage music. You see, at the time she was trying to impress a boy who dressed only in black and spoke only in antagonisms. Rules, man, not for him. And suddenly they were not for her either. What more, he seemed attracted to her wide-eyed, colorful, manic personality, and so Josleen went for broke and tried to pull a twee as f&%k stunt by rewriting the famous theme song in a major key. The audience was thoroughly confused, thought the play a comedy, laughed at serious beheadings and body snatching scenes, then jeered when the aliens – the bad guys!! – lost, for they had confused the aliens as protagonists. It was a mess, an utter failure. The boy never looked her in the wide eyes again and Josleen decided to grow out her bangs and hang up her polka dot leggings. But it brings Josleen some comfort to know that even her failed play has seen more success than her long-lost crush. A local mage recorded her terrible major-key cover, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qTRXOnbuJVM . It is played at the Academy to this day as an example of what not to do, and a perfect case study of how our brains are hard-wired to gleam the heart of a story from music alone. The Department of Psychology in the University of Cenril opened a specialty in the study of stage music, sociology, and the brain. With time Josleen was able to spin the failure into a success and claim that her play was not a genuine reproduction but performative, interactive art and social experiment. Her audience were her test subjects. The magical recording of her cover is required listening in the curriculum and Josleen was once asked to speak to a graduating class of psychologists, a feat she managed to bullsh%t her way through thanks to her gift of gab. Her old crush, on the other hand, has never received higher praise for his original music than “it’s sophomoric” and performs cover songs for teenage balls. Luckily for Hudson, Josleen tells him this story as he tries not to blow them up, and she name drops the name of her ex-crush’s cover band. And lo! It’s the very same band Hudson and Sargaso hired for their party! There is no need for Josleen to specify which man she was once attracted to, for the lead singer looked remarkably like Ansel (and incidentally, Josleen’s husband). She definitely has a type.


Hudson would rather scream for ages about the crazy coincidence that was Josleen's dating a guy who performed in the band at his party, or sing the Toxic Love song, than get down to business, but he's sort of locked himself into trying now that he's made a dramatic announcement that Josleen had better stand back. "Right," he exhales, now that he has the floor. He moves the glass specimen tray out from under the magnifying glass and appears to consider it for a moment. "I wonder what kind of plant you were," he says, clicking his tongue in the defeated way that suggests Josleen's due for a lot of guessing and checking. Hudson isn't exactly an herbalist or that familiar with the Xalious region - apart from its kickball field(EN21) - so he has to lean on her for support and supply various names of plants that populate the area. The process goes a little like this: (1) Josleen names a plant, (2) Hudson then tries to perform what looks like a cheap party trick of holding his hand over the specimen plate and, with the look of pained concentration, murmuring an ancient word with a certain intonation that is consistent with reverence and somehow also reflective of the plant's name.(EN23) It's the same word every time, but somehow there's a consciousness to it, reflecting the nature of their attempt. Usually nothing happens, and it's on to the next plant. Huds is just beginning to declare to defeat, and is murmuring the general words of frustration that tend to precede such a declaration when the word 'ficus tree' provokes a result. The specimen begins to expand, crackling and hissing, breaking its glass cage to sprout roots into the table. For his part, Huds is quick to back away, shooing Josleen with him. The teeming stuff begins to take shape - in the form of a ficus tree - and it's as if the branches themselves groan with displeasure to be reduced once more to their vegetative state. Perhaps not as if. Literally. The tree's stopped growing at about 2 and a half feet, and it's still groaning. Its leaves rustle with indignation. "This is the worst day of my LIFE, oh, why would you DO that," says the tree.(EN23) Hudson, who'd shot a look at Josleen, does a quick glance about the room to ascertain that they're still alone. The tree almost seems to sag at this. "You idiot, no one's here but us," says the tree, its branches twisting as it seems to peer downward at the table into which it's grown itself. "Ugh, this is worse than I imagined. Finally, I said to myself, I was dying and done with this stupid cruel world, and now you've resurrected me, and I live in a table indoors in FROSTMAW of all places... You stupid useless people, you've ruined EVERYTHING. You think I know something, so now you've gone and stepped in it, but all I know is that you're IDIOTS."

  • (EN22) Due to the altitude, it's actually easier to kick home runs in the Xalious kickball field, so Huds - as an offensive player - always likes to play there.
  • (EN23) Who suffers from a deep seeded (pun intended) depression, stemming from his childhood issues caused by the gruesome decapitation of his mother.


Josleen’s bored expression descends into frustration as Hudson lives up to all her greatest hopes for him. Then something happens! A miracle, no less. She uses Hudson as a human shield, and bends to the side to peer around him at the depressed tree. She whispers to him, “We don’t have talking trees in Xalious.” The ficus rights itself with mock prissiness, fluttering tiny sprouts above where its eyes should be, like lashes, “Oooh, we don’t have talking trees!!” It quakes in parody of alarmed damsels everywhere, clasping its arm-branches to its chest and swooning. “Well BULLY TO YOU!” It roars then resumes its woeful wilting. Its twigs quake with its sobs. Beneath its ‘eyes,’ it sheds leaves like tears, which magically re-sprout only to be shed again. “Mother! Mother!” “Also your father,” Josleen interjects.(EN24) “Oh shut up! You think you’re soooooo smart. Botany, botany, botany.” The tree pops the ‘bo’ syllable, then doesn’t pronounce the ‘ta’ and finally says ‘knee’ for the last syllable. So really it sounds like *Pop*--knee. *Pop*--knee. *Pop*--knee. Josleen whipers to Hudson again, “Do we kill it?”(EN25) “Yes, kill me. Kill me please. Kill me and for GOOD this time! It’s a matter of time before those three nitwits attempt to summon me again. I really wish they would just let me DIE.” Josleen perks up at the mention of the three dumb-sketeers. “Three, you say?” “Are you hard of hearing? Lucky you. I wish I couldn’t hear your drivel.” Josleen shoos Hudson closer to the ficus so that she may in turn approach it without relinquishing her shield. “They wouldn’t happen to be two elves and a half drow, would they?” she asks the tree. “Oh bravo.” Its twigs twitch from Josleen to Hudson. “If you kill me, be sure not to prune my leaves. I’ve always wanted an open compost funeral.” Josleen presses forward with her questions. “Do you know their names? Why would they want to summon you?” Still speaking to Hudson, the ficus amends its earlier statement. “If you kill her, be sure not to get her blood on me. Her stupid is contagious.” “So you don’t know?”asks Josleen. “What I know is that they didn’t want to summon me. Whoooo would? Why would anyone WANT me?” It resumes its crying. Josleen proceeds to ask several questions, but the ficus provides no further useful information. Throughout the course of the conversation(EN26), the bard lets down her guard and stops using Hudson as a shield. Still, what little she has learned here today provides a good lead. Once she’s done, she says to Hudson, “That’s it. He’s all yours. But… you won’t kill him, right?” Her stare softens and pleads as if she’s talking about a puppy they found on the street.

  • (EN24) All trees are hermaphrodites.
  • (EN25) We = You.
  • (EN26) Wherein Josleen plays detective and the ficus verbally abuses her. It does get a few good jokes in, and recommends Hudson institutionalize Josleen where she may be looked after by people with functioning brains.


"Don't be rude to her, mate," says Huds to the ficus tree when the tree commences its verbal assault upon Josleen. The tree naturally responds with a recognizably rude gesture(EN27) in their general direction and continues to rain down further strangeness. Josleen makes the - Hudson thinks rather wise at this point - suggestion that they (he) should kill the tree, before it annoys them too much presumably. "Maybe he has valuable information," whispers Huds, in perfect time with the provision of said valuable information. At Josleen's urging, he moves closer to the tree - it seemed mostly harmless, seeing as how it's growing into the counter - and stands sentinel as the Mulder to her Scully while she gets actual work done. It's a short lived success because the tree persists in its rudeness and in any event appears only in the mood to answer the one question. Huds doesn't bother asking the talking plant twice to be polite; it's clear that politeness is not a thing if you're a severely depressed ficus tree who's been spending years tallying your hates toward other living creatures. "You need to smoke some dope and chill out," advises Hudson, perhaps projecting a little with this statement, which sets the tiny tree off in a shrill tirade against mankind, mass murdering bunch that they are.(EN28) The tree blubbers incoherently through a few more of Josleen's questions before it becomes apparent that they're at the point of diminishing returns. Hudson, somewhat avoiding Josleen's gaze, doesn't even know if he could kill the tree at this point. But man that thing can't just be in his work space, shouting demotivational advice and polluting the air with allergens. "Not sure if my best or worst work," he says to Josleen, wincing into a grin. "I'll uh... Maybe we can have him moved...to a place... I'll ask a gardener type. Yep." He rubs the scruff lining the lower half of his face. "So, I'm gonna put a note on the door so that people don't disturb... the tree..." Who is currently making incoherent yelling sounds. "...and go do that. You need a ride back or you good here for a bit?"

  • (EN27) Rhymes with "the word."
  • (EN28) If he's being honest, Huds also said that to yank the tree's chain a bit.


Josleen perks up at the mention of dope, though Hudson would have to be alert to her behavior to notice it. She makes an effort not to give herself away in order to preserve her ladylike reputation. (EN29) Never mind that Hudson has already smoked with her. That was then, the circumstances were different, she had just been assaulted at her place of work, and it was wartime. These social algorithms run through her subconscious unnoticed, and the resultant equation dictates her behavior and mood. Seeminglyout of nowhere she is now Type Irritated. Perhaps her tension is a direct result of the ficus’s insults. Perhaps. Perhaps. Or, alternate theory. The last time she was irritable in the company of Hudson he offered her dope.(EN30) His suggestion to leave a note is met with a tense smile, raised brows, and wide eyes – the quintessential expression of impatient patience. “Mhm,” is her curt reply. She rubs her face and sighs with exhaustion. “Sorry, sorry. It isn’t you. I’m just… That interrogation took more out of me than I realized.” His question is opportunistically ignored.

  • (EN29) What is dope?: The expression.
  • (EN30) Like Pavlov’s dog salivates at the ringing of the bell, Josleen grows irritable at the union of Hudson and The Chronic.(EN30a)
    • (EN30a) Great band name.


Hudson is stuck in the awkward position of having to contend with his buddy's grumpy woman. Aren't people supposed to conceal these sorts of emotions from acquaintances, most especially your man's lad friends? Shouldn't her face be a mask of a plastic smile? Did that gryphon ride non-cuddle break the seal on being grumpy in front of one another? It seems like it did. Because she didn't even answer his question. He flicks some plant matter off of his shirt as he contemplates next steps. Of course he likewise is a little overcooked from the whole situation. And with that thought he plays right into Josleen's trap, and seizes immediately on the prospect of having a covert puff out the window, much to the ficus tree's(EN31) likely horror. "Yeah, so, whatever you want to do about the ride, let me know," exhales Huds, "Anyway, I know it's probably bad form to smoke in front of a plant but he(EN32) seems to have simmered down.... So... I'm gonna do that, you're welcome to join. Or just chill here and hang out with our friend. Whatever." He digs a hand into his pocket, coming up with an old mint tin that's definitely not used to store mints anymore. This he flashes at Josleen in the manner of somebody flashing ID and the universal sign for "definitely not cigarettes," before moving to the window, which he pulls up and leans slightly out of, taking the lay of the land in terms of probable witnesses. Looks good. He picks out a joint from his tin and looks to Josleen, who was left to choose her own adventure.

  • (EN31) It has worn itself out at this point with all the yelling, and has lapsed into a sort of dejected mumbling state, ignoring those around it. The ficus tree's well of sorrows is deep, Hudson's proposal to light up and inhale some of his former comrades is the least of his concerns this moment.
  • (EN32) It is unclear why Huds is so certain the plant is a guy.


"We're friends now, are we?" moans the ficus before resuming its sobbing. Hudson's own shift in mood does not go unnoticed. On the contrary, it's welcomed as the outcome the bard had hoped for. Only in this way is she dangerous, in her ability to manipulate, but her intentions are rarely cruel and thus her danger is akin to that of a tamed (black) jaguar: technically could ruin you, but never will. Any bruising of her own character in Hudson's esteem is one that she is confident she can fix, or willing to sacrifice for a smoke at any rate. As Hudson brings up the subject of a ride again, she glances at a clock. "I need a lift to Vailkrin, but if I leave now I'll arrive too early. Don't fancy spending more time than necessary in that spooky place." The joint isn't verbally rejected or accepted, but acknowledged indifferently. She crosses to the window and leans her back against the frame to carry on the comversation -- definitely not to smoke. "I asked the Eyrie for a ride there too. Unsure if that'll be you or someone else?" After he's had two puffs, her hand, seemingly of its own accord, floats between them, forefingers slightly extended to take the joint. "That's someone's daughter you're smoking, you know," says the ficus. "Let's name him Ralph," replies Josleen, directing her gaze to the ficus. "He looks like a Ralph, doesn't he?" The window's shutter hides her face as she exhales sideways. From the outside it looks like the shutter is Hudson's smoking companion, exhaling through its slats like nostrils.


Hudson is not such a deep and complex person that Josleen's stock has really fallen with him.(EN33) "Right, well, I'm around, if it's me. Sounds like it's not though if I haven't heard anything about it," he tells her, tucking the joint in his mouth and firing the lighter beneath it to get it going. Huds wonders what he's going to do with the ficus tree. It's made working conditions pretty poor in a matter of moments, just by its very existence. How would he explain it to Alvina, and the other folks they shared the lab with? As annoying as the talking ficus tree situation is, Hudson still feels a significant swell of pride for having made it happen. He pipes the exhaled smoke out the window and hands the rollup to Josleen. The tree is kvetching behind them, and Huds throws his gaze over his shoulder to look in its general direction as Josleen suggests a name. "I agree. Ralph. Now that you've named it, he's like our secret love child. Not sure how I feel about this," he tells Josleen, punctuating the quip with a waggle of his brows. 'Ralph' begins to croon "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to..."(EN34) with relative melodic success. Ralph has a great voice, for an animated ficus tree. Who needs conversation? Huds is content to trade off hits, smoking the joint down until it's done, and bob his head in time with the song. He offers to give Josleen a lazy twirl at the end, and then he applauds, glancing her way with a shrug of his shoulder. "Man," he sighs once that's done, his hand finding its way into his pocket as he contemplates his next move. Probably to the caf. "If we only had some cake log."

  • (EN33) In truth he has not at all remarked how quickly she's cozied up to him, like a cat wanting food. He's under the mistaken view that he's that charming.


Josleen smirks around the joint, mid-pull, at the 'love child' joke. She slowly exhales through the shutters, eyeing Ralph sidelong as he begins to sing. "If so, he takes after you," she teases. The bard is likewise content to not say very much as they share an 'herbal cigarette.' Her gaze grows distant as she contemplates the troubles which plague her: her marriage, her relationship with Ansel, these events in Xalious. Ralph's song provides just the right soundtrack to this moment for her, except she doesn't cry. The deep-probing cognitive boost from the weed helps her puzzle through the Xalious mystery. When he lifts her arm she twirls, and appreciates the attention with a distracted smile. Realizing she isn't very present, she explains, "I think the three mages that are behind this are rookies. Complete novices. They don't even know what they're doing. That's why it doesn't make sense." Thank you, dope, for getting those mental juices going. "Cakelog sounds amazing right now. I'm so hungry. I bet you Hildegarde has a hoard somewhere. We'll leave a note so it isn't stealing." Although the location of this fabled hoard of cake is unknown to both parties, they locate it with psychic precision.(EN35) Having arrived, Josleen focuses on eating first and note writing second. She's chattier during the face-stuffing phase of a high and regales Hudson with a story about the time she and Ansel were forced to dine, room, and dash at an inn in Craughmoyle. The events leading up to Josleen's singular crime are left vague. Soon enough, the time arrives for her to depart for Vailkrin.

  • (EN35) Or so it seems to them. Eyrie staff would (and will) report that they fumbled about the Eyrie HQ for 40 minutes giggling to themselves about cake-filled dragon hoards and dreaming up new versions of cakelog: filled with strawberry shortcake, or deep fried, or cookie crusted; inside a ball of icecream, outside a ball of icecream, why not both?; on a hamburger, with cheese, bleu cheese, and bacon.


Hudson, as they stumble about in search of cakelog, tries to be the straight faced one. But it's no use. He loses it over everything, his pokerfaced expression beginning melt like Bill Hader going out of character on SNL. He and Josleen brainstorm their great culinary expertise. He loses it at this story of dining and dashing in Craughmoyle. "How does that situation even arise?" he wants to know. "Man, Ansel needs to get a job. Man screw woman, man provide for woman," is the appraisal provided by Huds, Mr. Trust Fund himself. "Speaking of, I need to get better at alchemy," he tells her. Unclear if he means that. Stoned and having little self-awareness for how boring he's being, he tells Josleen about how he's been absolutely filthy (in the sports-commentating sense) at kickball lately. He's usually a straight-up B, maybe B+ player, but as of late he's just in the zone and a complete beast. While feasting on cakelog, he abuses his captive audience in Josleen and makes her debate the pros and cons of various walk-out songs, which ends in them singing "Livin' on a Prayer" very loudly and disruptively.(EN36) Afterwards, he asks - does she think people can tell they're totally stoned? (Uh, yea.) Perhaps they'd better be more serious. Jos - Jos - JOSLEEN - remember the time Krice was hiding in a hedge and popped out demanding cakelog? lololololol. Oh, her ride is here. Evidently it's not him. He composes his face like a kid caught out at a school. Yeah, good work today, see you around, take care. All proprieties observed. Nothing to see here. Yeah, he'll tell Ralph she said bye.

  • (EN36) Hudson reveals that his current walk-out song is "Come and Get It" by Gelena Somez. What? Can the greatness of that song be denied? Thank you. That's right.


Josleen nods a little too emphatically at the suggestion that Hudson's alchemy game isn't as filthy as his kickballing. Speaking of which: snore. But with cakelog under her fork, the bard manages to wait out the sports storm and even ask attentive questions as Hudson relives recent plays.(EN37) She much prefers singing 'Living on a Prayer'. Cue more show-boaty belts, which should be assumed whenever Hudson and Josleen break into song. "...Do you think Krice was high too?" It all makes sense. He was hiding in a hedge (no, he wasn't), and had a craving for cakelog (also, nope). Now that they've revised history, Josleen leaves for Vailkrin feeling accomplished and in a cheerier mood that when she arrived. Thanks, Hudson Airlines! Send Alvina my hello. Good luck with the team. Take care.

  • (EN37) And in doing so rifling through her entire sports vocabulary with no respect to applicability. "The guy wasn't offside?" "Why didn't the tightend make the tackle?" "Shouldn't the referee have called a flag on that pass?" Josleen has only ever played badminton, and even then had to be told the score at regular intervals: "Oh I scored a point? Nice! Woop! I'm so great at badminton!" One game, one point, one (self-declared) champion.



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