RP:Love Potions in Vailkrin - A Recipe for Disaster
Background
Setting: the Masquerade Ball hosted by Jolie of the Eldritch Cabal at the Hanging Corpse to celebrate its resurrection.
This once-timber tavern has been rebuilt in sturdily vitrified blackstone and imbued with powerful protective magics that prevent occult fire and several other potentially harmful spells being cast within its walls. No effort has been spared to make what might otherwise be a bleak interior comfortable. The bar is made of polished stone with an oaken inlay, the space behind filled with a bustle of attractive barmaids, sundry barrels and a dazzling array of coloured bottles that glint in the light cast by a large wrought-iron candelabrum suspended from the ceiling overhead. Here, the one-eyed Steadman stands, ready to take orders for food or drink. Beyond the bar, stout tables are firmly bolted to the floor, though the high-backed chairs are freestanding. The hearth is a true feature, seeming to be cast from black lava into the shape of a colossal, laughing goblin's head, its maw gaping wide and deep, usually containing a merrily crackling fire. A delicious scent of roasting meats drifts in from the kitchens and a winding staircase leads to rooms upstairs. To the south are set cellar doors, usually kept locked unless a special event is taking place. The walls are hung with thick, richly woven tapestries depicting persons and events in the history of Vailkrin and the Vampiric race. There's also a notice-board near the entrance, where one may leave messages. Unobtrusive but ever-present are the security staff, staunch fighters ever ready to toss troublemakers out. Chief among them is Urghdak, a massively built half orc, half-troll who has more scars than green-tinted skin and stands nearly eight feet tall. His yellow eyes are always narrowed, alert for excuses to do his duty. Approach him --or cause trouble-- at your own risk.
Unbeknownst to the attendees of the event, a number of love potions have been slipped in with the regular drinks.
To even an old score between herself and Cornelius, Jolie has Steadman, the bartender of the Hanging Corpse, ensure that every effort be made to ensure that the dandy imbibes one of the love potions while she attends to the business of ensuring everything else about the event goes smoothly.
Cornelius, costumed as a more dapper version of the necromancer Redhale, goes to get himself a drink after a splendid waltz with Mahri.
Steadman does his duty.
Love at First Sight - A Moral Story of True Romance
Dapper Redhale drifts from the dance floor, the ominous top-hatted figure appearing to glide unnaturally, care of Cornelius' precise footwork beneath those dark robes. An elegant emissary of the eldritch, he drifts his way to the next pretty lady in need of a dance: Urghdak, the half-orc/half-troll head of security "I say there, Urghdak old bean. You look lonely. Positively pining away for the fjords. Would you like to tango?"
Hanan snickered, to both of those speaking to her. To Colton she glanced sidelong again, knocked back another sip of wine red as blood, and shrugged simply. Maybe the alcohol made her less disturbed by his particular pastime than usual. She could smell the blood, but it didn't smell bad. Hell. "Does Jolie know you're into amputees, Black? Might be worth bringin' up at some point." She inclined her head slightly toward Mahri, that smirk still rendering her jaw a bit lopsided beneath the tiger mask. "Which is why I don't wear one. Still suits you."
Mahri is just going to ignore Hanan now, intent on pouring herself a non-alcoholic drink that wasn't juice. Or water. As she raises the glass, the problem of the thick cloth hiding her face is made known and she, irritably, raises the bottom of it with one hand and knocks back the pirate's gift. She'd have slouched if the dress allowed for it.
Hanan failed to stifle her laugh at Mahri's attempt to drink. Not that she had tried very hard. At least it was relatively quiet, for her.
Mahri said to Hanan, "Laugh it up, Captain Fancy Coat. A few months and I'll be kickin' your ass again."
Cornelius sighs beneath his Redhale mask. It seems Jolly-girl's orders to Urghdak still held the oversized lummox in check. As Dapper Redhale he drifts barwards to join Mahri and company, looming at them as only a faux-necromancer can loom: badly.
Hanan said to Mahri, "You've never been kickin' my ass, wolf. Never."
Hanan canted her head slightly to the side, like a bird who's just found something shiny in the dirt, when she watches Colton take Jolie away. Damn it, the murderer could dance. Dance! It was more than passing strange, it was strange and remaining so. Hanan glanced at the door again. Where was Ace?
Mahri just snorts at Hanan. She won't make the cliche comment that there's a first time for everything. From what she can see, Colton and Jolie have gone off to dance. As other couples have gone to do, the crush on the dance floor waning and waxing as others left for refreshment. All in all, from what Mahri could tell, the Ball was a success.
Dapper Redhale looms a bit more before realising it wasn't working for him. He just didn't have the real Redhale's cold and tainted aura of malice to fall back on. Instead, he adjusts his top hat to a more jaunty angle and addresses Steadman "A drink, old bean, and my cane if you'd be so kind." Steadman looks at the disguised dandy, and without a glimmer of emotion hands him a glass of what smells like a very potent alcohol, and the cane.
Mahri said to Cornelius, "Sit. Or something. You're making me nervous just standin' there like that."
Hanan said to Mahri, "He makes me nervous just being."
Mahri said to Hanan, "Yeah? He's a sweetheart really. Battles goats for the entertainment of women and children."
Hanan said to Mahri, "Is that in the bare-knuckle ring? I've heard good things about that place. I wonder how many goats it takes to bring him down."
Dapper Redhale seats himself as ominously as he can manage, which isn't particularly ominous, as even robes of the most evil aspect, when seated, tend to look on the outer edge of ridiculous. He rests the cane against the chair, glass in hand, and ponders the logistics of drinking it while masked. He can't go through his usual rigorous tests against poison due to his gloved and masked costume, which, in hindsight was quite the bother - but surely -this- time Jolie wouldn't be poisoning all the guests.
Mahri sips at her drink, wanting to make it last. Pouring a refill, she slides the bottle back for Steadman to put away. Where it won't be touched. He's good about that when properly motivated and a pregnant, hormonal and moody wolf was not something he wanted to deal with when in a bad mood. He puts it away. After all this the lycan quite literally turns in her seat so she can fully see Hanan and answer. "Oh no. That's different. That's for his own fun." She's only guessing here. If she were to catch sight of Jolie and Colton dancing, well..it's a good thing she's got something covering her face. Envy is the colour of her gown, and just maybe she'd have felt that as well..if she had seen how well paired up Colton and her sister were.
Hanan leaned an elbow on the bar and slouched thoroughly. "Odd idea of fun. Poor little rutters." The goats, not Cornelius..es. Hanan's eyes turned toward the door again, the ghost of what may have been a pout--she'd not admit to it--beginning to form over her lips. "Damn it. If I knew I'd been comin' alone I would've dragged someone else along."
Dapper Redhale discards protocol, and tips his mask up, temporarily placing it beneath his top hat, revealing Cornelius' relatively unlined face - unlined save for knife-and-claw scars on his right cheek. He downs the glass, blinking at the strength of the alcohol. "Peaches? What in the blazes was that beverage?" He catches the gist of Mahri and Hanan's conversation, and looks across to Hanan "Oh no, damn goat was up in Xalious Mountains, and can I just say, M'dear, how utterly enchanting your eyes are?" He blinks again, a mental double-take at the words which just sprang unbidden from his mouth. They may have been uncharacteristic, and yet they felt so right!
Cornelius drank a love potion.
Mahri looks from Hanan to Cornelius--now unmasked-- and back. Had he? ..he had. Lips twitch beneath the veil and silvery eyes glitter with amusement. "Would you two like to be alone..?"
Mahri takes her time and looks around. Perhaps to find some open table or secluded bench somewhere to sit at. While a romance blossomed here at the bar.
Hanan snapped her head so quickly toward Cornelius that she should have gotten whiplash. What did he just say? "What did you just say?" She lifted her brow to Mahri. "Gods damn..." Back to Cornelius. "They aren't enchanting. They're normal. Very normal. Leave me alone."
Mahri says, "I'll just..go..over there," she waves a hand in some random direction. Leaving her glass where it is, the lycan slip/drops from her chair and, one hand raising a corner of the gown's skirt so she doesn't tread on it, makes her way to the skewed sitting area by the goblin-mawed hearth. The seats are at least comfortable and she can kick off the slippers. And maybe remove the veil. For just a little while.
Cornelius grins at Mahri "Ever so perceptive! Yes, let me be alone with this Belle Tigre Formidable, for her eyes speak volumes which may take the entire night to unravel" His gaze, warm with passion locks onto the eyes which glare out at him so tantalisingly beneath the tiger's mask Hanan wears "Ma Cherie, do not flee from this moment of destiny" With a stage-magician's flourish a red rose appears in Cornelius' hand "Let this rose be the first step to a long and beautiful romance. My dear, let us unravel the threads of destiny together!" It seems that the beverage Steadman had given him was potent indeed, but he felt too liberated to worry about the state of his presumed inebriation. After all, the barman wouldn't have slipped him a love potion instead of alcohol as vengeance for all those attempts to provoke Urghdak. Surely not.
Jolie found her sister's retreat to the hearth a perfect excuse for avoiding any raised brows or whispers, and so scuffed over there in her new slippers, sitting on the arm of Mahri's chair. "How's the belly?" she asked, changing a topic that had not been raised yet.
Hanan glanced almost pleadingly after Mahri as she left and Cornelius continued, she leaning away from the bar as dark eyes fixed upon him through the eye holes of that tiger mask. Not tantalisingly. She was trying to will him away. "Your... cherie? That's--gods damn it, you learned that flower trick from Fuan, didn't you?" She clucked her tongue, took one last gulp of her wine before setting the empty glass down. "Get the hell away from me, smarmyassed goatkicker."
In his dark corner, Mark listened intently as he observed them all at once with his peripherals. They were all unwittingly relinquishing information to him. Every name they gave, every word they spoke, and every action they made, Mark took in to account. 'To kill a Dragon, first you kill its mate… then you destroy its eggs... Afterwards, it'll be like simply slaughtering a bull.,' Each person here was a potential target one day and when that day came, he'd be ready. Mark never understood love, for it seemed like a waste of time. In every way it was a weakness, another limb to chop off, another back to be stabbed. Even as these thoughts crossed his mind, a hole seemed to gape within his chest. It was not the same emptiness he felt as when he was on the hunt, that emptiness was cold, this was hot… and it seemed to burn him from the inside out. Images came to mind, the silhouette of a woman, luscious lips, the sound of soft music. There was a feeling of both longing and disdain, like sating the addiction of a drug while knowing full well the dangers of doing so. Complete faith and loyalty for nothing, what person would not want it? It was free, it was absolute, but it was nearly impossible. He hated not the concept of love, rather the fact that he would want something that was so improbable. Pushing those thoughts away, Mark returned his full attention back to the ball. Everything continued normally, no fights, no violence, nothing to even imply that such a thing would occur, just a few verbal bouts here and there. Was it because of the presence of the Orc that headed security, or perhaps the woman who headed the establishment? On the subject of the owner, Mark wondered about the identity of the male with whom Jolie had just been speaking with. Their words, their actions, it indicated attraction between the two… a spike of annoyance ran through his mind…
Mahri rolls her head against the back of her chair to raise her eyes to Jolie. Under the hem of her skirt, toes work at kicking off the first slipper, "Big. Getting bigger. This kid is ~never~ coming out. My feet are swollen, back hurts and I swear to the Gods if I don't go hunting soon I'll rip out someone's throat with my bare hands." Jolie just ~might~ understand the sentiment.
Cornelius, ever a thief of hearts, makes an attempt to draw Hanan in to steal a passionate kiss from his newly beloved. "Fear not, dearest of my heart, I let the goat live, so as not to hurt the heart and dreams of a small child. Romantic, no?"
Jolie , as though picking up on that mental focus the new hired man was spiking her way, would beckon Mark over to where she and her sister were warming before the goblin-head. The hearth itself was behaving beautifully, possibly due to a short talk the necromancer had had with it, whilst holding a sledgehammer, the evening prior.
Jolie understood alright. "Patience, dear sister. Oh - speaking of that, there's somebody I'd rather like you to meet. New security man. He's that pale fellow, over there," she pointed, ".. met him in Kelay. Odd.. but that's never a drawback around here."
Hanan wasn't even thinking of Ace when she reacted to Cornelius's advance. It was pride that drove her shoulder back, her elbow out, and her fist rocketing up toward the underside of Cornelius's jaw. "Shove off, Rapey, and leave me be!" She'd be out of her stool quickly afterward, if that blow struck home.
Mahri eyes Jolie. Given the last time she'd wanted Mahri to 'meet someone'. "Uhhu.." Still, she'll glance Mark's way with a scowl.
Jolie tapped her sister on the head. "No anacondas, promise." Whatever that meant.
Mahri 'll ignore the heat of a flush creeping over her cheeks and turn that look on her sister. "Speakin' of, where is he?"
Jolie 's eyes were shifting toward the butterfly-girl who'd entered, when she caught the captain's uppercut in her periphery. Rather than show alarm, she murmured, "About time.. things were going too swimmingly." There might be a very wry tone to the words.
Mark easily spotted Jolie's beckon from his corner, as he did everything else as well, but he remained motionless for a few moments more. Finally the lifeless statue in the corner came to life. Again, heel, toe, heel, toe. He seemed to almost be a spectre weaving effortlessly through the crowd. When Mark reached his destination, he offered Jolie a respectful bow of the head, "Yes, Miss Jolie?" 'Jolie… sister…' He'd spoken her names a few times now, but only then did a few others come to mind, possibly connected. He would not speak of them now, especially now in the midst of a crowd, but perhaps he would be able to speak with her about it later.
Jolie was drawn back to the company at hand with the sound her name. "Mark." His name was a greeting, "I'd like you to meet Mahri," her hand wafted toward the pregnant lycaness seated in the chair, on the arm of which Jolie was perched. "My sister and manager of the bar here. Mahri, this is the fellow I spoke of."
Cornelius weaves his head sideways, swiftly departing the stool as the uppercut instead knocks the top hat and mask off right off the top of his head. Cornelius uses his lateral, weaving movement to steal a quick kiss to the woman's neck. As he takes a step back he exclaims with broad smile "Ahh, you play hard to get! Ma cherie, the passion within you, its fire draws me to you as a moth to flame! Let me burn in your inferno, dear hotness!" He collects his cane and presents the flower, the very picture of a devoted man presenting his beloved a gift - necromancer's robes notwithstanding.
Hanan had never been called "dear hotness" before and might have simply laughed if the "BASTARD!" hadn't stolen a kiss just before. He'd danced away to quickly for her to land an elbow in the face--she'd tried that--and now she was stuck glaring at him, dumbstruck, as the presumptuous twit held a flower out to her. She didn't take it. Instead she dropped her right hand to her belt beneath her long blue captain's coat, drew her rapier in a single gleaming arc, snapped it down to her side, and pointed at him with an accusing left finger. "Back off, rutter. Just Back. Off. I'd rather not get blood on my coat." At some point she'd forgotten that she was wearing a tiger mask. Which stayed put the entire time, as she made a good attempt at being menacing. Hellcat indeed.
Mark makes no action to indicate he'd noticed Mahri, he could see her finely through his peripherals. His only action was yet another bow of the head in respect towards the other, "An honour, Miss Mahri." It was then however that his ears turned his attention elsewhere, not a voice, simply sound. Air parting as a fist was swung, the gentle sound of a cloth object being struck, sounds a normal human should not hear… He made no movement to be involved however. Jolie wished his presence here, she was most in a position to see the fight, she would give the order if she wished it to be stopped.
Mahri looks over Mark as she is introduced. A commotion draws her attention and she does her best to stretch and peer over the back of her chair, or past Jolie's back, to see Cornelius in ardent pursuit of Hanan. Oh. This was rich. Grand even and she'll have to remember to bring it up to the Dandy at every given opportunity. Smirking, she gives her attention back to Mark and Jolie.
Mahri said to Mark, "Mahri. Just Mahri ain't a Miss in my name at all."
Eilyo glances towards the scuffle beginning between Hanan and Cornelius. A coy grin curls the corners of her full lips, a slender hand coming up to rest against them gingerly as she holds back a chuckle.
Mark said to Mahri, "As you wish... Mahri..."
Cornelius looks forlornly at the rose head which, severed from its stem by the rapier's arc, flutters to the floor like the blood from a broken heart. But no! Romance was never meant to be easy! With another flourish, a white rose is produced "Dear heart of mine, your wit is as sharp as the blade you carry, and it pierces my very soul with adoration! Let this white rose be my peace offering as we make amends for this little lovers' tiff. Here, my dear, allow me to plant it between your lips with a kiss!" As Cornelius ardently presses suit, his cane surreptitiously knocks the rapier blade offline as he attempts a second kiss, placing the rose between his teeth.
Mahri huffs a breath through her nose. "Agreeable fellow, eh?" She looks up again at Jolie and speaks as though the raggedly dressed male wasn't there. "What's wrong with 'im."
Jolie said to Mark, "I'd like us to have a meeting," she inclined her head toward her sister, to include her in the invitation, "In my office, tomorrow or the next day, if possible. I feel it's necessary that you explain your.. situation. And that I discuss an idea with you." "
Jolie grinned at Mahri. "Nothing. These are the Dark Lands, sister. Nothing is strange."
Mahri shrugs, the second slipper pushed off with her one bare foot. 'Meetin'? Why not now. I won't be sleeping tonight anyway." Her back hurt too much.
Mark :: A familiar silence before each piece of speech that came from him, "As you wish, Miss Jolie." The sound of metal being struck behind him, weapons had been drawn. Yet still he did nothing, awaiting the word from Jolie.
Hanan had no idea how Cornelius expected to give her a decent kiss with a rose in his teeth but she didn't think long on it. Rapier pushed aside, the sailor--a fencer by training, or at least she had been before the fangs set in and she left these shores for a few years, which had apparently been an excellent idea--slid back easily on nimble feet, left hand darting to her side to grab her barstool by the seat and brandish it toward his legs, blade still held fast in her right. A tiger attempting to tame a showman, how's that for reversals? "Jolie! Tell his randy bastard to back off before I poke him a couple new holes to lust after, please."
Jolie said to Mahri, "Because we've a Ball on?"
The band, who were looking slightly worse for wear, having been dug up and reanimated rather too quickly for any lasting re-existence, were meant to break into a lively foxtrot next, but instead began playing something very odd, a heavy beat, a staccato rhythm, like a heart going crazy under its chest with sheer adrenaline, and the cellist groped about for his head. Snapping it back on via his dry spinal column, he began to sing a raunchy tune about fast carriages and fast woman, and highways, and endless horizons. Jolie blinked.
Jolie glanced around to Hanan. "You want... me to save... you. From a dandy."
Mahri would blink herself as the music changed and she'll jab an elbow towards Jolie's hip. It was close. "Best do somethin' 'bout that."
Jolie said to Mahri, "I really.. kind of like it." Her toes were tapping."
Mahri 's lip curls. There's no accounting for taste.
Tiphareth slinks into the rebuild establishment, dressed in his finest duds with face shrouded by a finely crafted spider silk veil. His gaze spreads evenly across all of those present before gliding into an available seat.
Hanan growled. "I want you to save a dandy from me."
Xiang once again raises his gaze to meet hers, the two shades of blue locking together as her words are spoken. The monk hates pirates, and yet he had agreed to tag along on a moments notice. Indeed, there had to be underlining reasons to such action, right? That chilly purr of her voice makes the monk smirk once more, as he says. " The night is indeed a wonder.." He falls silent, lost as he glances upon Morana fully. But then the commotion caused by Cornelius and Hanan can no longer be ignored, and the man looks over to see what is happening, saying. " Damn fool..." In regards to Cornelius. It takes the man only a moment to return his attention to Winter, and he says. " Very well, no more talk of business!" He smiles to the vampire, and says. " What is it you wish to do?"
Mahri said to Jolie, "She did say please..."
Cornelius executes a courtly bow to his beloved, low and deep, and then fetches a strong crescent kick to the chair as his cane again slaps her rapier offline, held in what any fencer would recognise as the left-handed guard of sixte, hand supinated as if in supplication, but cane perfectly poised for a cross to quarte if needed. His right hand takes control of the white rose once more "You wound me, dearly beloved, but I accept your harsh words with the fortitude of a mountain, rush past them with the cooling passion of the greatest river - no hyperbole can match the heights of exultation the mere glimpse of your eyes gives" He takes a step forward "Let us not fear the condemnation of our unworthy peers! True love cannot be overcome!"
Jolie said to Mark, "Please, invite that cranky pirate to dance with you. Do not kill the dandy, he is important to me. The pirate not so, but she's amusing. If she won't dance, just... try to steer the fop in the robes toward.. I don't know. Some thing else. And I promise, there'll be a lot more violence than this on a regular day.""
Jolie offered Tiphareth a welcoming nod, from her chair (or arm-of-chair) by the fire, and rose to her feet. "Sister, I think I ought to mingle a bit."
Mahri waves Jolie away. She needed some time alone. Maybe.."I think I might see if the ferry is crossing to Rynvale tonight."
Morana glances up at the sounds of the commotion and deftly decides upon what she wanted to do. "The evening is quite lovely, care for a quiet walk?" Nodding towards the noise still going on over near the bar, and not wanting to get pulled into such nonsense, not when the night seemed so perfect. Without hesitation she rises, her mask in one hand while her glass is parted from the other, "Coming?" She purrs, her newly open hand extended to the monk in an oddly close gesture for the elven woman.
Jolie glanced down to Mahri, "Mhm..." Alone, her pert heinie. "Don't you overdo it, hear?"
Mahri gets slowly to her feet and again waves away Jolie's concern. "I'm gonna go change first. Seems things're windin' down so..I'll be back in a couple days or so."
Jolie pursed her lips, watching Mahri go. "Might come out, myself.."
Tiphareth raises from his seated position, browsing about the various refreshments, a few of the drinks are examined, the wine and rum both raised to his nose for a moment to take in their bouquet; finding nothing of subterranean origin he makes his way through the crowd, eyes lingering on the more interesting masks for a moment before continuing on to examine the bar's new construction.
"Well, I'm lookin' at you, you prick." Hanan was a fencer, but not a fancy one. Hers was a style born in backalley brawls, the fights between petty retainers rather than nobles. Swords flashing in the dark, a combatant just as likely to encounter a bludgeon to the nape as a main-gauche to the gut. "You exulted yet?" She had one of those, by the way. Not on her. She thoroughly missed its use, now. "I warned you, didn't I?" Her hand would have to do, it was only a cane after all. She took a half step back, then lunged deep, the point of her blade aimed at his left shoulder--his weapon-bearing limb. She'd attempt to deflect with her forearm if he brought that cane back into play. Damned lefties.
Mahri heard Jolie, but she's going to ignore it. For now. Good mood has gone and in its place is that cranky and overly moody wolf.
Jolie eyes the drow narrowly, unimpressed with his ignoring her like that.
Xiang rises from the table, leaving a few gold coins behind for the barmaids, or Mahri, or whatever shady folk decided to pick it up, and takes the woman's offered hand. A quick glance to the ongoings with the love stuck fop and the tigress. " Lead the way." Is his reply, the monk following suit, that smile still upon his lips.
Tiphareth offers a nod of acknowledgment toward Jolie, admiring the fine silk within her mask, a fabric much to his liking.
Cornelius exclaims "Beloved! Must it always be like this? Ma cherie, have a heart!" even as he steps in a precise compass-step to her outside line, the rapier plunging through the fabric of his robes, even as the cane in his hand pushes forward to lever the blade away from his body as he steps forward to kiss her shoulder "Belle dame, let us make love, not war!"
Morana offers Xiang a silent smile as she wraps her cool digits around his, not even sparing a glance to the commotion as she weaved her way towards and then out of the tavern.
Jolie , slightly mollified, drifts toward the dark elf, quite pleased he'd deigned to attend. "Good evening, Tiphareth." Masked or no, there was no mistaking his stoic countenance. "This is no time to speak of business. But I should like to, very soon."
Tiphareth grins from behind his veil, there would be no fooling the necromancer tonight, "Evening Lady, I trust your gathering has gone well?"
Mark :: A silence, notably longer than his others, sustained before he responded to Jolie's reply, "... As you wish, Miss Jolie..." With that Mark turned about in the direction of the voice belonging to the 'pirate' and began his approach. He took but three steps forward before the lethargic movement of the man cause by the exaggeration of his dignity was broken. He leapt atop a nearby table and became a blur as he dashed from table to table in complete silence, he reached his destination between the 'pirate' and the 'dandy' within a moment, successfully blocking the male's attempt to kiss the pirate's shoulder, a moment long enough for him to have mapped out the entire human body in his mind, its organs, muscles, bones, and arteries and their functions as well as what would occur should they be destroyed. Behind him, nothing atop the tables were disturbed. A show of his dexterity and precision. Mark turned towards the female pirate, the empty stare of his mask reflecting his own expression. he spoke bluntly to the pirate, "Good evening, Miss Jolie has requested that I offer you a dance…"
Jolie inclined her head, "Very well indeed," though she'd eye Cornelius briefly. "A most wonderful Ball, to celebrate our return. I trust you've been well, Tiphareth? I hear great things of the mage's guild... ah, but here I almost fall into talk of business. Let it be a compliment, for now."
Hanan was for once happy he stole another kiss; it gave her an opening. As soon as she felt his lips on her shoulder she let go of her blade and launched her right elbow straight at his jaw. Whether or not it connected she spun with the movement, catching her falling hilt in her left hand and yanking it free of his robe as she took two steps back. That gave her just enough room to showily toss the rapier back into her right grip. "War's more fun. I don't see your cane goin' limp anytime soon, can't say much for the alternative."
Hanan managed to twirl no matter what... Mark did to Corny, back there. She glares at the man. "My answer's no. Go away, goony." Rapey. Goony. It was one of those nights.
Eilyo was watching the scuffle between the pirate, the dandy, and the...odd one. She sips on her blood wine, slowly walking about the room, inspecting the tavern. This was a ball for it's resurrection, was it not? What if someone wanted an opinion of the place? She wanted to be prepared to answer. A blond curl slips down from a bun, laying gently against her cheek, and for the moment the woman makes no move to brush it away.
Cornelius is glad that Hanan's elbow catches the security guard instead of him, as he had so obligingly placed himself in its way. Cornelius knows that love must overcome mountains and security guards too. Something dark and dangerous enters his stance as his mind slips into the dark, cold place of his training, his eyes snapping onto Mark, the obstacle to his love.
Tiphareth shrugs slightly, "I've been well enough I suppose, and the Guild has been progressing quite well, though our numbers are still lower than I'd like... alas, there are few truly skilled arcane practitioners within the lands, as I'm sure you are aware. Though as you've said, it is not the time for business speak, however; when time for business comes along I too have things I'd like to discuss."
Jolie 's turn to smile, her own mouth unadorned, sharp little canines showing briefly. She managed to stop herself jiggling, however, and said, "I should rather like that." Negotiations were a thing she enjoyed immensely, especially where gold might be a factor, and.. she stopped herself there, and waved a hand toward the bar. "Might I offer you a drink? I have a few fine liquors not for public consumption."
Tiphareth makes his way to her side at the bar, propping an elbow upon its surface as he leans in toward her. "As you may or may not know, I don't drink surface spirits... do you happen to have any beverages of dark elven origin?"
Mark had the unfortunate fate of timing his landing just as she brought he elbow up to defend herself against the dandy. Mark was little more than annoyed by being struck in the jaw by the pirate, his first thought was to kill woman on sight, but he figured that Jolie wouldn't appreciate a death on her establishment especially during an event such as this. His blunt offer was rejected and he thought it to be humorous if he simply left well enough alone and allow the dandy and pirate sort things out between themselves, but he turned to the dandy as per Jolie's instructions. "Sir… Miss Jolie has requested you leave the 'pirate' alone… You're causing an unneeded commotion in the tavern…" His voice was gentle and warm as always, but the tone of his voice was still monotone, yet at this particular moment there seemed to be a small hint of hostility…
Jolie only smiled, and ducked under the counter, rummaged about a bit, and resurfaced, holding a very dusty bottle. "Wine. Produced by your own family lineage, I believe, almost a century ago. I hear it doesn't last long in the light, so... would you do the honour of opening it?" The bottle was handed to him reverently. "As to where I got it..." She gave him a rather guilty look. "Black market. Quite a find."
Jolie ducked again, not so low this time and from a shelf produced two very ornate wine glasses and a small tin. Placing the glasses on the counter, she tapped the tin. "This I stole, myself."
Hanan called out over Mark's shoulder. "That's also where she buys all her underwear." To Mark, she gave a small glare. Not that she could be utterly angry at the gentleman, he'd been sent after her request. "You should've yelled, or somethin'," she told him, fingers tensing and relaxing on her sword.
Jolie added, "From a trader, west of here. Cheeky fellow. Had some nasty scars."
Cornelius looks at Mark with a cold and level gaze and calls out to Jolie, voice devoid of emotion "Jolly-girl, this man gets out of my face now, or there shall be blood." The white rose flutters from his hand as he steps back and twists the cane's head with his right hand, allowing the casing to drop away from the rapier within even as, with a twist of the wrist and clicking sound, a silvered dagger appears in his left hand. Stepping back into the classic upright guard of the Old Vailkrin School of fence, Cornelius' dark mind becomes awash with circles and vectors, his awareness of space expanding to encompass the room and yet contracting to focus on Mark.
Jolie said to Hanan, "But I don't wear underwear." Jolie was not a shrinking violet, that way.
Hanan swore. Loudly. She'd seen the goings on. "Of course it's a ruttin' canesword... You, Goony, get out of his way." She lowered a bit on her knees, brought the brassy swept hilt of her rapier back before her, and growled in frustration. "Where. The hell. Is my godsdamned date."
Jolie said to Tiphareth, "Do pardon me, a moment." She sighed and called to Mark, "Let the dandy continue to harass the pirate. Come and have a drink with us, you've earned it for the tedium.""
Hanan said to Jolie, "I always wondered why those stray dogs followed you around."
Tiphareth accepts the vintage offered by Jolie, examining the bottle for a moment before turning to the process of opening the bizarre bottle. The Eldermage approaches a nearby candle, extending the bottles neck over the flame as he rotates it slowly, the unique underdark wax which seals its contents melting away bit by bit through exposure to the heat. "This is the traditional method for breaking the seal, our plant based waxes in the underdark are much stronger and less brittle than your bee wax used on the surface, this process also heats the spirit slightly which unleashes it's true aroma, giving a depth and life to its flavour which would otherwise go unnoticed."
Jolie said to Cornelius, "She really is playing hard to get. Why, when you're not looking, she positively eats you with her eyes."
Hanan said to Cornelius, "I'm taken, you idiot. Thoroughly. Repeatedly. Taken. Not by you. Leave me be!"
Jolie grinned wickedly, and turned back to Tiphareth, listening intently. "I hadn't dared open it before, afraid to ruin it. I'm glad I get to share with you." She slid the glasses his way. "Do you smoke?"
Mark :: Simultaneously as his adversary drew his weapon, Mark drew his own. In comparison, Mark's rusty dagger seemed useless to the immaculate silver of the dandy's, but this was a fact Mark seemed willing to ignore. It was already too late to stop the engagement, Mark did not take well to threats… Mark took two steps to the left, and then the bending of the knees indicated the preparation for a leap. Rather than dash forwards towards the dandy however, Mark launched himself back, behind the pirate, grabbing the hand that brandished a rapier with his left hand and placing his weapon to the pirate's neck, "Tell me… of what use is it to remove me should the person you care about most dies in the process…?" Mark made sure to grip the pirate's arm firmly, but not to harm her. Gently, he whispered words into her ears as he watched to see what his opponent would do next.
Mark whispered something to Hanan.
Tiphareth returns to the bar, elongated digits grasping the dense mushroom plug planted firmly into the bottles neck, a slight twist and pull release the cork to allow it's contents a chance to breathe, a single hand reaches into his robe, retrieving the long stemmed pipe from within and placing the ensorcelled implement upon the bar. "Indeed I smoke, and that blend appears to be one developed by Keter long ago, luckily I was able to recreate its blend rather closely for my personal consumption; do you also partake?"
Jolie said to Tiphareth, "My apologies, once more, Eldermage.. Do help yourself to the tobacco there." She smiled. "And indeed I do.. just a moment, however."
Jolie said to Mark, "Desist, please. These two.. well, the dandy is one of my people. This will only give him conniptions. Do come and have a drink. Hanan.. I might have something for you, too?" She gave the pirate a pointed look."
Hanan was only taken by surprise because nobody in their right mind would have thought to do what Mark just did. Grabbing the person he was meant to be protecting and sticking a blade to her throat. Hanan gulped--not because of a fear of death, for the vampire presumed she would not be meeting such tonight--but for the damned indignity of it all. She'd been bodily snookered. Snookered by a goon. "What... the hell... are you doin'?" And that was after he whispered.
Jolie turned back to the drow, "I'm afraid I left my pipe in Ryn... er. Elsewhere. But if you'd not mind letting me share a puff of yours..."
Tiphareth places a hand upon the bottle, feeling if the temperature has lowered to the appropriate warmth for serving, a quick sniff of is bouquet signalling that the fine spirit is indeed at peak serving temperature. The wine is decanted slowly into the provided vessels. "I appreciate your offer, though my pipe remains loaded with the mixture, its particular enchantment allows the contents to last an inordinately long time. The wine is ready to be enjoyed now, it also should compliment the tobacco quite well."
Cornelius is lost within the mystery of the Circle and the Sword, Mark's voice barely registering. Still, the effect of the potion has the dandy respond coldly "Then after disposing of you, like the murderous and disobedient dog you are, I shall join her forever in the afterlife." Slowly, and deliberately, he shifts his position to the outer edge of the circle of conflict, feet placed along the unseen line Vailkrin Fencers called Eternity. With gravitas Cornelius approaches the two, each step soft and silent like death's sure tread. Again, Cornelius' voice echoes coldly, as if from a distance "You have one more chance to obey Mistress Joliette, stranger, or you shall then be responsible for all that transpires after your refusal"
Jolie eagerly waited for him to finish pouring, and took up her glass, pausing for the mage to do the same while she inhaled the bouquet of the wine, rich and heady. "Exquisite," she murmured.
Tiphareth takes up the glass, swirling the contents slightly before taking a small sip. Tiphareth swishes his beverage for a moment in his cheeks before swallowing the liquid with a satisfying sigh. "Indeed..." The pipe is then raised to his lips, a brief puff sending the embers alight as he draws deeply upon the D'Artes blend. A large aromatic plume is then released into the tavern air, quickly dispersing from the many tiny currents of air.
Nemisis walks back into the tavern dressed in according to the event. Shifting in his golden lined suit and his demonic shifting mask hidden slightly under the top hat, he looked quite dapper yet strange none the less. Honor's usual mannerisms were slightly hidden and altered, hands resting upon the fire poker and facial features hidden. Looking about, he simply weaved through the crowd and took a seat.
Jolie offered Nemisis a wave. The event was winding down, after a fabulous evening with little to no bloodshed - inside, anyway - and while the band played on, a more mellow tune now, most people were simply conversing.
Jolie took a sip of the wine once the mage had done so, and her small murmur of appreciation was followed by a question, "Say, I always wanted to ask.. is there is a repellant for those spiders that wander about your lands? We get quite a lot in our cellar."
Nemisis actually got up and walked over to Jolie and dipped his hat, "Evening....How are you on this eve....?" Inside his head Honor asked to Intelligence, "Are we supposed to conceal the identities of everyone or is this just for fun....?" Intelligence turned the bolt in his head and said, "Not sure. There are masks. It would only be logical to not say names." Honor simply shrugged and continued to focus back outside. The draconian would reach into his pocket his personal cigarette and place it in his mouth. Without any visible flame, it lights on its own.
Jolie studied the self-lighting cigarette. "I'm well, Nemi. You?" She was soon sipping at her wine again, which only grew better with each small mouthful.
Tiphareth ponders the necromancer's question for a moment as he enjoys another sip followed by a draw from his churchwarden. "There are a number of methods that may work... specifically there is an oil that has been developed which is so slick that spiders can not get their silk to stick to it, if you brush the concoction upon the walls and ceiling in the area you wish for them to avoid, they'll usually vacate the location once they figure out they can't build a web there. There are also some simple incantations which work wonderfully, I could impart them to you if you so desire."
Mark eyes his adversary carefully, noting the change in the dandy's mannerisms. In this case it would yield better results to desist as Jolie had requested, but his instincts told him to fight, to kill… Mark's vision began to blur, everything turned first a neon green, then a fiery red, leaving only the outlines of objects and beings to be deciphered from one another. A dim red glowed from beneath the eye sockets of Mark's masque. He was already planning his attack, where and how to maim his opponent then how to finish the job. But then it felt as though something invaded his mind, the glow of red ceased, everything turned black and he could hear a distinct female voice, '…ark… 't… op…ve you,' Colours returned, but he no longer felt the need to fight. He relinquished the pirate and sheathed his dagger. He offered words of apology to the pirate, "Apologies Miss, I hope you are unharmed," offering a small bow of the head to her before leaving the pirate and dandy behind, Mark returned to Jolie's side, contemplating what had just happened. The voice that he'd just heard echoing in his head, who did it belong to and why did he stop? A threat had been issued, it was foolish to have turned his back and walk away…
Nemisis simply blinked and Honor commented inside, "Guess not..." Back on the outside he said to Jolie, "We're okay Jolie.....Looking mostly for entertainment....." There was music playing and they were just standing there. Almost impulsively he asked, "Care for a dance....?" Though he wore a mask, one might able to feel the grin and confidence oozing off of him. Honor is the most prideful.
Jolie nodded eagerly to the mage's suggestions. "I brought in the chitterling - a sandwyrm larva - to help keep the numbers down but that was..." A complete disaster. "Less effective than I hoped. I believe the ventilation shafts must lead directly to some space below that connects with your own land." Of course, she wouldn't mention Darian and Kasyr's 'exploration' of the vents. "Ought we, perhaps make a time for a meeting?" She took a very small sip, and continued. "Where we might have that, and other discussions?"
As Mark removes himself as an obstacle to true love, Cornelius palms the silver dagger and brushes his left hand through his storm-grey hair, eyes brightening and smile returning even as the dagger is surreptitiously returned to its place. With a step back and a deft movement of the foot the swordcane's ivory casing is flipped up and swiftly eased over the blade so that, with a click, it is a cane once more. With a despairing look at the white rose he unthinkingly trod on just moments before, Cornelius produces a black rose with a flourish "Ma Cherie, I understand that you have room in your heart for more than one man. This is one of the many beautiful things about you which I admire so. Let this black rose represent the mournful feeling within me that you had to witness such unpleasantness!" He presents it to her, cane and rose held in much the same way he had presented the white rose earlier "If our love must be war, then I shall surrender myself up unto you, dearest of my heart!"
Tiphareth nods toward Tene, "Indeed, such a meeting would be beneficial. When would you like to schedule this meeting?"
Jolie hardly broke stride in her ongoing conversation, but spoke the name "Hanan" in a breathy tone, waggling a small vial drawn from a shelf behind her. To Mark, she said "Thank you. What liquor do you prefer?"
Hanan was mostly unharmed. Her hair was now a damned mess, the butterfly clip all askew. And she did not realize until Mark touched it that she was still. Wearing. A Tiger. Mask. Which made her growl again. "Gods... damn it all." She attempted to turn away from Cornelius and toward the bar. "I need a damn drink." Of course this is when he decided to start presenting her a rose. A. Rose. Hanan turned back and glared at him and his damn flower. Her eyes narrowed. "...fine. Okay." She snatched the black rose from his hand. "Okay. Just leave me alone for the rest of the night, right? Don't talk to me. You can try again some other time." Without waiting for his answer she made her way directly for the bar. "Get me a whiskey," she asked the tender.
Jolie smiled at the Eldermage, "A your own convenience, Tiphareth, please. I am often here, and have staff to take my duties. Do just send a messenger, whenever suits you."
Cornelius bows deeply "As you wish!" For with those words, what Cornelius really meant, was 'I love you'
Jolie gave 1 love potion-antidote to Hanan.
Jolie tossed the vial to the pirate. "Slip him this. The funny is over."
Mark stood beside Jolie, he stared straight ahead as he contemplated familiar sounds. 'S' 'i' 'Si' 'Sin?' No, but close. The name seemed to linger on the tip of his tongue, yet he was still unable to define it. At the offer of liquor, Mark replied to Jolie promptly this time, "Apologies for the disregard of orders, Miss Jolie… and I do not drink alcohol without good reason to do so…" Alcohol, it disrupts a person's ability to think, something he wished upon his enemies, not himself. 'Significance?' no 'symmetry?' closer…
Hanan caught the vial easily in her hand. She glanced at it a moment, then growled to the bitchy witch variant. "You had this the whole time?"
Tiphareth finishes his beverage, leaning in once more to the necromancer, "Thank you Tenebrae for your hospitality, I'll let you get back to your other guests now. We'll have our meeting soon and get to some business discussion."
Hanan said to Cornelius, "Hey, you." She tosses him the vial. "Drink this if you love me."
Hanan gave 1 love potion-antidote to Cornelius.
Cornelius bows and says "With pleasure, dearest of feisty angels!" So saying, he downs it in a single manly draw.
Jolie said to Tiphareth, "I look forward to it, Eldermage." A dip of head in parting offered the drow, she then gave Hanan a warm, fuzzy kind of smile. "Yes."
Tiphareth makes his exit as unassumingly as his entrance.
Jolie has more opportunity then to study Mark. "Quite alright. Most of our bouncers get carried away, a little, in the course of their duties.. Let me say though, that you acted quite impeccably when called on to do so. I fear I am a little weary this eve, and now is no time to speak of business, but do see me tomorrow? I think you'll quite like the topic I have in mind."
The moment the antidote begins working through his system in a very distinctive fashion, Cornelius clenches his stomach, a look of rage flicking to his face before being replaced with a blank smiling mask. He turns to Jolie, with very careful motions, and states "This is revenge for the time I showed up to my own funeral isn't it." It definitely wasn't a question "You recall it well, I imagine. Right after the time I pretended to have succumbed to that rather unique toxin you'd blended to humble me for setting your wardrobe on fire." He coughs as the antidote continues its work. "Well played, Jolly-Girl, well played." He offers a slight bow to Hanan "My humble apologies, M'dear. You do, however, have gorgeous eyes. That part was at least truth." With injured pride and dignity Cornelius stalks towards the tavern door
Nemisis simply just walks away from Jolie who seems quite busy to take up his offer. Pulling on his cigarette, he exhales and leaves a trail of smoke, he plops back down in his chair and rests it back on its hind legs.....Wait, he's supposed to be formal right now....He sits back and crosses his fingers, fiddling with his thumbs and being....polite.
Jolie called after Cornelius, "Yes!"
Mark was motionless as ever when he replied, "...As you wish, Miss Jolie...," Frustration, it didn't show in his voice nor his body, but it was there. A single word, a single name, and yet he could not remember. He could most likely recall the majority of the words spoken at the ball and match each voice with each word and that to the voice it was intended for and yet this single little name…
Jolie sighed, and glanced at the piano. "If only Sidonia had been here to play..."
Jolie beckoned to Nemisis, taking a last gulp of that marvellous D'Artes wine. "I'm sorry, Nemi. Chaos wins, you know? But if you'd still like that dance..."
Nemisis was actually beginning to enjoy the music. It was relaxing. From the cigarette, the demi began to paint a small picture. First a few rings of smoke would exit his mouth and drift ever so slowly into the air. Before any had a chance to fade away, a flare of the cigarette would come to life in the form of two sea serpents, breaking free from the stick and swim in the air. They danced together while twirling through the rings spinning and teasing each other all the same.
Hanan grumbled back to Cornelius, pushing her tiger mask back up on her brow and heaving a tired brow. "Sure, sure... thanks. Where's my damn drink?"
Nemisis eyes trailed over to Jolie after his little feat. A lazy grin pulled across his face as he said, "Yes, chaos always wins...." Whether she was just smooth with words or just damn lucky, that line worked well. Standing up, he extended a hand to her, ready to take the lead on the dance.
Cornelius exits the tavern in what can only be described as a huff. Damn Jolie, deuced brat of a girl. The ball was back in his court for the next act of a history of oneupmanship in the ancient art of petty vengeance.