RP:Locke, Shock, and Scandal

Location: Kelay Way

Synopsis: Locke meets Scandal outside Kelay Tavern and asks the dragon to keep him company along the road to Cenril. Scandal sates the young ranger's constant curiosity with tales of foreign lands while an elf named Alariel sings and follows along from afar. Soon enough, the trio happen upon a shifty merchant selling goods too good to be true. Disgusted with the man's unscrupulous practices, the three of them -- mostly mere strangers moments ago -- join together to bring him down and scatter his misguided followers.

Kelay Way

Locke wasn’t getting those orbs back. He’d put his trust in two smooth-talking women on the condition that they learn the origins of his shimmering recent finds. He hadn’t seen either of them since. He had a pit in his stomach where his faith used to be, like a miniature void sucking in all his doubt until it consumed his own hunger. “You win some, you lose some, Locke,” he quietly whispered to himself, one foot on the loamy Kelay soil and the other propped up against the tavern’s welcome sign. An apple sat untouched in his left hand. He remembered an old fairy tale from his homeland -- something about a maiden who bit into an apple and tasted that which was quintessentially forbidden. It gave the maiden certain acuity, but it cost her every ounce of morality. Locke wondered how many apples ‘Brittney’ and ‘Amber’ had eaten. Dusk set, and shadows crept closer and closer to the halfling. A chill midwinter’s wind came with the shadows. It was time to make a decision: either Locke would rest here for the night or get a move on and explore someplace else. With luck he’d find something as intriguing as those orbs. With wisdom he’d keep a tighter grip on them.

Scandal walks within keylay were seldom these days, especially since leaving the sanctum of the Divine. His human appearance around 6' tall atheltic with short brownish blackish hair and his dark red eyes. He walked along the the path towards cenril to pass by the tavern. "Maybe there will be a discount today." He said.

Locke hadn’t seen very many fellow travelers today and savored the opportunity to talk to anyone else besides himself. The man who had approached from down the road had unsettling red eyes which caused Locke to squint defensively. But the young ranger rarely let caution stand in the way of curiosity for long. His own green eyes flashed brightly just seconds later, and he took a quick trot toward the stranger, his ruffled brown hair flowing freely with the chill wind. “How do you do?” Locke’s voice was full of energetic enthusiasm. “Fancy an apple? Fresh and… fruitful,” he added clumsily, “and just bought from Mesthak himself. Care for a stroll? I’m new here and it’s all quite a bit overmuch to take in.” Evidently Locke was not only new but desperate too.

Scandal eyes wandered to the man that was approaching him. "Fine, thank you, yourself?" He asked nodding to the enthusiastic traveler. "An apple, hmm, I just may." He said holding out his hand, and then with other reaching for a gold piece in his satchel, and then handing it to the man. "I would very much welcome the company, its a bit of trip to cenril."

Locke could count on three fingers the number of times he’d been give more than ten gold at a time. Several coins hit his palm with a satisfactory clink and for the briefest moment he enjoyed the sensation. But Locke was hardly interested in money, so the feeling was as fleeting as the steady wind. Money was useful when Locke craved creature comforts, and sometimes he needed those just as plainly as the next lad, but mostly he kept to forests and streams, hunting and fishing as needed and sleeping somewhere up in the canopy, high enough to avoid predators but low enough to stay dark even during the daytime. “Thank you, friend, and I am doing quite well myself!” It wouldn’t do not to think the red-eyed man, and it wouldn’t be proper to complain about his missing orbs either. Locke was breathing in the air, reveling in relaxation and remaining limber despite it -- all told he really was doing well enough anyway. “Cenril! I have heard of this Cenril but I’ve not seen it as yet. While we walk, regale me with tales of Cenril.”

Scandal smiled nodded. His motivations for Cenril was for something dragon, but he appreciated the man's company. Scandal walk, wasn't necessarily distinctive but it did seem just a tad off, as if he were over compensating for the lack of something. "Cenril is the largest settlement in Lithrydale, the biggest city, and by far one of the wildest when it comes to corruption and crime. There are many places to visit while your there. The capital building for one, the ginger snap bakery, the Bank, Thalra's, the Lazy Eel lounge, which is right next to the fish market, The harbor, Mayor's residence, The Office, and also the Bathhouse. Cenril is always full of adventure, but not always the safest place to be in, their witch hunters these days and Cenril is the single biggest residence for witches these days."

Alariel may (or may not) be seen as a passerby strolling through Kelay Way, taking in the sights. Alone again, the fairskinned elf clad in dark clothing with touches of green accents on her corset tosses her loose braid of dark hair over her shoulder and strolls towards a few trees before disappearing behind them. Though she had seen people conversing there they are strangers, though one she thinks she recognizes from a brief interaction with before. She shrugs it off as she keeps walking, enjoying her own company again. As more distance is put between her and the area she sings a quiet tune to herself..."I once held the moon in my hands. Never reached for the stars. A dime a dozen all of them were. And nothing compared by far."

Locke listened to his companion’s description keenly, his awe increasing with every sentence. A bakery! A bank! A strangely-titled lounge! Witches and witch hunters alike! And it was all wrapped up in a thick sheen of crime. What a vivid image the man depicted; what a thrilling adventure this would be. “I have been to few places in my travels which can compare to Cenril,” he said with a mystified sigh. “I prefer to keep to less civilized pastures, mostly, but I love a good change of pace every now and then.” In fact, Locke had needed to change paces multiple times to keep in step with the man’s awkward walk. His gently-curved left ear twitched almost like a puppy’s at the distant sound of song, which faded slightly as he and Scandal continued onward. He recognized the timbre as an elf’s, and presumed it belonged to a denizen of Kelay. “A fair song -- do you hear it, friend? There were fewer of these hymns in Kelay Tavern than I’d hoped, and more boisterous ballads of boastful debauchery than I’d ever needed to witness.”

Scandal turns his head listening as he walks catching notice of the curvaous elf that he met once when he really should have been in bed, and not up late at night in a tavern. "Oh yes, such a delightful tune, but not nearly as delightful as its vocalist." Scandal said with a smile but no snicker. He said this hoping his voice might carry just a wee bit. "I myself I prefer Venturil to any place in Lithrydale. So wild so many saurian creatures the place spells that rainforesty kind of adventure into untamed natives and ancient ruins. That my kind of territory, out where it all awaits to be discovered."

Locke caught more than a hint of familiarity in Scandal’s tone and chuckled in good cheer. It seemed he and the singer were acquainted, either closely or farther away than Scandal desired. “Truly, this Venturil sounds leagues ahead of the rest,” Locke said, eyes wide with wonder. “You had me at ancient ruins; the thought of discovery only illuminates my interest. We shall have to make for Venturil one of these days, you and I, but first I suppose I ought to be giving you my name. It’s Abigail -- Locke Abigail. And what might I call you in return?” As the singer’s melody faded into night, another sound replaced it further down the road. Ahead, Locke could just barely make out what appeared to be a caravan parked beside the edge of the road’s gravel, a merchant with many-colored and loose-fitting garb hawking their wares. Whatever it was that they sold, they had attracted a good bit of attention; over a dozen horses had stopped nearby, their riders haggling for thrifty prices. “I wonder what all the commotion is,” Locke commented.

Scandal chuckled wondering if the elf was still following but his voice returned to the man, "Well Mr. Abigal its a pleasure to meet you." He said, "Its Scandal Scrathulclaw." Observing the commotion, ahead he wondered to. "I don't know, perhaps its just simple haggling, or perhaps their a run on a resource."

Locke found Scandal’s name peculiar, although not quite as peculiar as Brittney or Amber. In any case, peculiarity was generally a good thing in Locke’s mind, so it was all for the better. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Scrathulclaw.” He nodded politely, his lips playing at a smile. The pair drew closer to the caravan, and by now some words could be overheard. The gathered crowd was too busy talking over one-another for any one person’s voice to become clear, but there was talk of miracles and magic and at least one reference to the alleged healing powers of fresh-slaughtered basilisk testicles. That last part had Locke cringing heavily. It was the colorful merchant who was loudest of all, for they were quite skilled in the art of shouting over everyone else. “I assure you, my friends, I assure you,” he soothed, “there are more than enough bottles of shock left for each and every one of you. Indeed, it could be said that I have shocked you all with my significant stock, such that you’ll go to your homes after this and tell your families all about my elixir, so that they too may profit.” There was something about the way the merchant said ‘my friends’ that made Locke hesitant to believe he meant it in quite the same way Locke did when he addressed Scandal. “Aye, but ye charge more than my grandpappy made in a year,” an especially short dwarf shouted back. “Perhaps that is because your house is famously unfortunate,” another dwarf answered with a snicker, which sprouted laughter from customers of all races -- all except the first dwarf, who spat. “Shock?” Locke whispered to Scandal. “Have you heard of this? I have not.”

Alariel had wandered off long before they had gotten there. Sitting there on the side of the merchant's cart, Alariel tucks a leg underneath her, letting the other dangle freely. She does this without the notice of the merchant. She just needed a place to sit for the time being, and it was comfy to sit on a rolled up rug that was still in the cart. She can't help but chuckle into her hand at the feedback from the merchant's audience.

Scandal shakes his head as he listens to the merchants talk. "Oh no, not this again." Scandal hated this, the elixer of eternal life principal all over again. He held back his tongue when the merchant's vulgar description of what he was selling was and Scandal decided he needed to say something about it. "Hey, I am no expert elixers or potions, but one thing I can tell you is, you don't want balisk testrone running through you, in fact the worst is dragon, does some things you really don't want." He said cupping his hands around his mouth to holler at them. He shook his head, and took notice of the elf now sitting on the merchants cart, It likely wasn;t the wisest place to be. "You see locke, we have the common con man at his work again."

Locke hadn’t ran into too many con men in his time, but after his recent entanglement with a couple of tricksters in a tavern he was rearing and ready to pull down the proverbial curtain on this merchant. “Yes, ladies and gentlemen, please, shy away from all parts basilisk, but most especially their reproductive organs.” Most of the crowd chuckled, but the well-to-do middle-aged woman in a fine gown who had brought up the issue frowned in disappointment. “I see,” she mumbled, likely unheard beneath all the rabble. She moved wayward of her fellow customers for a moment to recollect herself, which gave Locke a golden opportunity to lithely wiggle his way in. “Scandal, let us jointly assail this unscrupulous oathbreaker with our combined common sense.” Which was to say, plainly, that he wanted to find out what the merchant was selling and expose him for the fraud he was. “Say, good man,” Locke shouted liltingly at the merchant, “what ingredients might you have inside that veritable elixir?” The merchant guffawed, but several heads turned with ample intrigue. “A wise man does not reveal the secrets of his craft!” Locke peered around in jest. “I see no wise men, although a sneaky elven woman -is- behind you.” The merchant blinked, turned around, and spotted Alariel. “What the devil… get out of this cart or I’ll make you serve my shock to earn your keep!” With the merchant’s head turned, Locke quickly grabbed a bottle, popped the cork, and smelled it. “Foul. This, -my friends,- is a mixture of saltwater, thyme, tuna oil and goblin’s foot. When I say goblin’s foot, I do not mean the plant. I mean literal feet of goblins, and you do not want to know where goblins have been.”

Alariel was definitely noticed by the merchant and she simpered at him with an seemingly innocent look after having been caught. "Well if you aren't the brightest ray of sunshine to grace Kelay." she said with a motion of her head, poking fun at his clothes and his attitude. "How about I make you work at licking the mud off my boots?" She rose from the cart and landed in front of the merchant before putting her boot up on the lid of an open chest of wares, slamming it shut. The had only noticed Locke for just a second before turning back to the merchant. "Care to tell them there's a more direct source for your elixir?" She pulls the cork out of small flask of yellow liquid and dumps it in front of his boots. "Ooooopsss." She feigned, before tossing the bottle at him, hoping to distract him.

Scandal watched his two new found friends make the sham con man look ridiculous. He crossed his arms and smiled. "Folks I hear the best potions and Elixers are to be found in cenril, at the shop most west of the merchant street. Instead of wasting your money on this con man, why not go buy a cart, and purchase stuff from that shop and resell the products around the places you live."

Locke | The shock-selling shopkeep was well and truly shocked. He hadn’t the words for Alariel’s yellowy revelation, nor was he capable of defending himself from the customer who threw their purchased stock of shock right back at him. It thudded on his temple, prompting him to keel over dizzily. “Cenril?” One of the dwarves inquired. “Aye, I’ve heard similar. I reckon even Ol’ Penniless Guntstump here can afford some real wares in Cenril.” The dwarven victim of not one but two poverty jokes rolled his eyes and pulled his beard, but both dwarves rode out of the scene on the same snow white pony nonetheless. “Cenril,” the well-to-do woman said with a nod toward Scandal. “Perhaps in Cenril I might find something even better than basilisk testicles. Thank you, kind sir, and I hope your allergies improve posthaste.” She continued staring at Scandal’s red eyes as she mounted her horse and left. “This is an outrage,” the merchant stammered as his entire crowd dispersed. “I’ll have you in chains for this, you ne’er-do-wells. Lick your boots, she says? This she-elf has a right fine sense of humor! I’ll show you. You will all rue the day.” He kept on prattling less and less coherently as he drew his caravan and departed in the greatest haste his two horses could muster. “Honestly,” Locke told Scandal and Alariel, “goblin’s foot -has- been known to help cure the common cold. But I doubt he knew that anyway.”

Alariel looked over to where Scandal was standing after having recognized his voice after their brief encounter. She gave him small nod before jingling a pouch of coins she had managed to snatch, just as the merchants rode off. "Let's see how profitable they were..." she said as she went to turn the coins out from the pouch. Turning on her heel, she nearly ran into Locke and she juggled the bag of gold before she she got a firm grasp on it again. A few golden coins had fallen out of it. "Well h-hello there." Alariel stammered at Locke. "I can assure you, this is not something I usually do...heh."

Scandal chuckled. "Well not everyone can help it." He said. "Though admitly i hope that woman doesn't find any baslisk thingys," He said trying not to cringe as he made his implied meaning. "I ought know personally the problems with dragon testrone." He said. "It cures the common cold, huh, never knew that."

Locke blinked. The elf whose hidden exploits he’d called out for the merchant to see was now right in front of him, and it appeared as if she had robbed that merchant blind. “The common cold, aye,” he answered Scandal, evidently at a loss for words otherwise. He dusted off his jade green cape and knelt down beside an apple, clutching it. Perhaps it fell from the caravan? It seemed no matter what he did today Locke could not escape these things, and his inquisitive mind immediately leapt to the conclusion that this signified something meaningful about that old fairy tale he’d remembered earlier. He and Scandal -- and this stranger -- had all made quite a ruckus just then; he’d needed to be devious to do his part. Locke shrugged. The apple hardly had a flick of dirt on it. He took a hearty bite and swallowed. If this was what ‘forbidden’ tasted like, he’d probably ask for seconds. “I’m Locke Abigail,” he greeted the woman with a curt nod.

Alariel :: "I showed up here not too long ago and after being robbed..." she shrugs her shoulders. "Not such a nice thing to do, I know but...You know what. I'm going to go." Alariel was embarassed at her behavior and slung the bag towards the street corner where someone else would get more use out of it. Pawning off her own things wouldn't be that hard with some of her finery. She looked at Scandal and then fixed her emerald gaze on Locke. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Abigail. I am sure you two will see me around. If the merchants give you two hell about the gold just tell them to look for Alariel..." she then muttered something to herself about wandering off to the woods, which was barely audible unless the best hearing could detect it.

Scandal watched as Alariel left. "One of these days I am going to drop her in a certain dragons treasure trove and see what happens." He smiled at locke, in a way of hinting at something without saying it. "I too need to head to get into cenril, I have a boat to catch." He offered his hand, and then when he was on his way again, he bit into the apple. "Gods, that is a fine apple."

Locke was beginning to wonder if he’d just been subjected to a double helping of double entendre. He hadn’t heard anyone describe the deed as ‘a certain dragon’s treasure trove’ before, but then, he was young and wild and altogether uninterested in such things. As for the apple commentary, he supposed a man might refer to a woman as a fine one, although he wasn’t sure why. By the time he’d finished parsing Scandal’s dialogue Alariel was far enough away to be a thin shadow among vast ones. “Don’t worry about us, and stay safe out there,” he told her, entirely too late to be of any use to anyone. An awkward whisper in the wind. This was fairly common for Locke Abigail -- he would become transfixed on the particulars of a moment and let that moment slip from him like sugar from a spoon. Before he knew it, he was shaking Scandal’s hand, although he hardly remembered his friend having offered it. “T’was a wonderful meet, Scandal.” His smile was back, brighter than ever, and his eyes lit up fancifully. “You’ll show me Cenril sometime, I trust. Oh, and Venturil, too! And I have heard there is a fine eatery in Vailkrin, although I have also heard that, at times, the patrons are the menu? So perhaps we shall be skipping that one. Someone in a forest even told me there’s a healer’s hut not far from here…” And on Locke went, rambling excitedly as the moon rose high in the night’s blackening sky.