RP:Orphyn's Corpse Delivery Service
Summary: Larewen arrives in the Hanging Corpse as Orphyn is cleaning up Clayton's mess.
Hanging Corpse Tavern
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.
Orphyn pouts at the bouncers as they threaten the giant to leave. They never let anyone have any fun. Sitting now cross-legged on the floor, Orphyn stares at the splattered corpse with a mild sense of amusement. So much for a day of normality! /is sorry. Customers make for slow posting.
Larewen slipped quietly into the establishment, making use of the enchantment upon her eyes to avoid tripping or walking into someone or something. She was growing used to being able to see the magics that artfully ensorcelled the world around here, and the Hanging Corpse was as bright as, if not brighter, than her own home. Upon crossing the threshold, the elf's dark eyes swept this way and that, taking in those present.
Clayton stops once again just outside the tavern doors provoking the self-appointed leader of the bouncers to move after the giant in attempt to escort him further off the property. The giant turns around and glares at the man. A roar escapes his form and he grips the hammer tightly and swings upon impact a bust of lightning escapes from the end emitting a loud thunders crack and sending the man across the room into a wall full of bottles that shatter once the guard lands on them.
Orphyn turns to Steadmen. "Paaaaatchy. Can I? Pleaaaase? Please please please please please please-" she would go on until the one-eyed barkeep facepalmed in frustration. "Trial run y'hear? Ye break anything, ye piss of th' customers, yer gone. Deal?" The assassin nodded, quickly bouncing to her feet with a sloppy salute. "Aye aye cap'n!!" She quickly then set to work. Grabbing the splatter-brained corpse by the arms she drags it to the back, shortly to return with a mop and iron bucket filled with water. Starting from closest to entrance the crimson haired woman begins to mop up Clayton's mess, humming some sort of eerie sounding tune as she did so. When Larewen entered, Orphyn perked up and shouted out, "Hiya! Welcome to the Hanging Corpse! Watch your step! Blood 'n'-" she stops mid sentence as the giant undead creature takes to attacking the leader of the Corpse' security team. The others would move in for the attack, most likely looking to fell the man by attacking his legs. Orphyn could only watch, debating whether or not she might need to step in. Then again, she did enjoy a good show now and then.
Larewen barely skirted being caught in the mess as Clayton was pushed outside. It would take the woman a minute, undoubtedly, to process the going ons. The door to the establishment was held open, and when Steadmen saw her with his one eye, he'd frown at her. To the barkeep, Larewen was a regular. Her magic, having been around the woman so long for how many years she'd been a patron here, was familiar to him. His expression was hard for the elf to read though, and as her lips parted and her nostrils were filled with the smell of blood, Orphyn's voice tugged the elf's dark stare in her direction. "New help?" she queried, having caught the tail end of his words to the girl. She was studied for a moment, until the commotion outside once more snared her attention. The necromancer's lips moved in a silent whisper as a wave of magic was expelled in the direction of giant and bouncers. It was a simple spell, not quite on the strength of her guildmasters, but one she was at least comfortable with casting. If it were successful, it was meant to compel the undead, to exercise some strength over them and, ultimately her intent was to stop the fight for the present. It was not out of any desire to do so; Larewen was undoubtedly as amused as Orphyn was. Unfortunately, the elf had to maintain a certain image, if she meant to get what she wanted.
Clayton was getting ready to swing his hammer at the wave of security that had started to surround him. Once the spell is spoken the knight lowers the hammer resting the top of it on the ground and standing with his hand over the top as if waiting for a command. The giant lowers his head and closes his eyes standing docile even withstanding any attacks the security guards might bring upon him.
Orphyn exclaimed over the commotion. "Newest of the new! Drink? Food? Corpse removal? Orphyn at your service!" She offered wild eyes and a maniac's large grin. Suddenly all fell quiet, those grey-blues turning toward the entrance where the David(s) versus Goliath fight was about to happen. As Clayton stopped his advances, to too did the bouncers. They seemed puzzled and confused, looking between one another, constantly on guard in case the big lug decided to animate once more. Orphyn turned to her left and whispered, 'Whooooooa. This one. Watch out for her!" Who she were speaking to was of great mystery. That tombstone stare was set upon Larewen as the assassin mopped the floor, unsure of what to make of this woman.
Steadmen only watched, unsurprised as the necromancer exercised her control. He knew precisely what Larewen was about to say to the bouncers, and when her lips opened, he could only roll his eye and exhale a long sigh. Was he grateful the elf came along, or the opposite, given the situation? To the confused bouncers, Larewen proffered a fanged grin. "Remember, loves. You are currently outside the protection of the Hanging Corpse. Regardless of your desire to uphold the safety of your patrons, particularly the mushy ones, you are not save from those outside the tavern who might disagree with your idea of justice." It was worded as if the elf meant to remind them, and perhaps offer them some measure of protection from their own stupidity, but truly it was a veiled threat. Her gaze then moved back to Orphyn, unaware that the crazed assassin had already met the necromancer's death knight."I have better uses for that corpse, if you'd be a dear and have someone send it to House Dragana," came her reply, her lips quirking upward into an odd smile. Then, to Clayton, she would acknowledge last. "At ease, silly," she quipped, and the hold of her magic lessened as she withdrew it. Whether she approved of what he'd done, one could not tell. Outwardly, she appeared not to. "What are you doing?" Larewen was a chaotic creature. Breaking up fights was not something she enjoyed.
Clayton grunted quietly and stood back up moving the hammer to his back placing it on a set of clasps that attached to his back plate resting next to an ax. Stood quietly only offering a heavy breath and the occasional grunt. His eyes move telling the story of sending the headless man in through the wrecked door then at the possibly dead guard. The giant wasn't able to fully speak so let the display of carnage do the talking for him.
Orphyn narrowed her eyes at Larewen at first, nose wrinkled, pouty face in tow. Awwww! She wanted that body! The fun that could have been! Nobody wanted her to have fun. Never ever ever. Pout turned to over-zealous glee when the pixie-haired youth snapped back to her own sense of twisted reality. "Okey dokey, smokey! One corpse delivery coming up!" She gave Clayton one last scrutinizing ogle before bouncing off into the back room, setting into preparation to have the body delivered to its new owner.
Larewen might have more clearly seen Orphyn's expression, and would have undoubtedly posed queries to the girl, had she been close enough for the magical lights to reflect upon her features. To Clayton, she chuckled softly. "There are better places to do that; unfortunately, even with our king gone, the mortals have been welcomed here." The door was still held open by the necromancer and with a gloved hand, she gestured inward. "C'mon, you big lout. I'll get you a drink," she offered, unphased by his behavior. "Lady Dragana," Steadmen began, his tongue flapping for a moment. "He just-" Her dark gaze turned back to him. "I smell quite well what he's done, Steadmen. Come now, do you not trust that I can keep control of him? Better yet, is Daath still staying here? I think you're quite fine, with the two of us in close proximity." "I... Very well," he relented, shaking his head. She grinned at him and then her attention turned back toward Orphyn. "No need to rush it, though. They all cool just the same." She would seek an empty table, settle, and extend an invitation to the giant if he chose to follow. His darker needs, such as bashing in skulls, would be something that the elf had use for, even if she wouldn't voice her approval. Giants were not a common thing within the streets of Vailkrin though, for rarely were they granted unlife. Perhaps that is what kept Larewen's attention on Clayton. In a twisted way, she could see it as a fitting fate for her once-father. Shame, really. To Clayton, she said softly, "Perhaps we ought to place you in the arena, sometime. Would you like that?"
Clayton walks through the room a tooth, or perhaps a piece of skull crushes under his foot as he makes his way to the table and attempts to take a seat but fails and instead stands by the woman in a protective like stance, not that it was required it, but it may lay clues to who he was prior to his new-birth. Placing the head of the hammer on the ground he again wraps both hands around the handle and remains still like a sentry.
Orphyn hadn't been gone terribly long; A rather good couple of minutes before she would bounce out of the doorway like a squirrel with an attention disorder. As she did so, Steadman's words would be overheard, and it was here that the assassin would stop in her tracks. Lady Dragana? Dragaina. Where oh where had this word been uttered before? Suddenly it hit her!" La-la-la-Laaaarewen! Puppeteer of Dolly!" she exclaimed quite loudly. Still, ever vigilant, she watched Clayton like a hawk. Big things hurt. Once more resuming her duties, Orphyn started to mop up that mxture of blood and brain matter, getting things all tidy for the days newest patrons.
Larewen opened her mouth to say something, perhaps even order, when Orphyn came barreling through once more. The exclamation of her own name, and the words that followed left a puzzled expression on the necromancer's features. "Of... Dolly?" she echoed. She cast a glance toward Clayton, as if to inquire whether or not he knew who she was referring to. "Who is Dolly?" The question was posed to crazed assassin and undead giant alike as the elf's gaze moved back to Orphyn. Finally, she added to that, "And now it seems you're at an advantage. What do you call yourself, girl?"
Clayton didn't have a response and was quite puzzled, though that wasn't such a difficult task when Larewen looked to him, he offered but a shrug and a soft grunt looking back at the weird girl and shrugged offering her an annoyance grunt.
Orphyn seemed confused as she tried to recall. Did Dolly give her a proper name? No, no he did not. One hand lifted above her head to indicate height. "This tall. Very skinny. Should be sleeping, but isn't, because you know... necromancy. White hair. Blue nipples!" The latter descriptor was awarded a bit of a giggle. Swish. Swish. Swish. The mop glided across the floor, her gaze turning to the mess as she stated. "Puppets are all dollies to me. THat one is a big Dolly." She refered to, of course, Clayton. "You silly necromancers. Always take take take take. Where's the gifts?" Suddenly her attention was stolen as Orphyn turned to her right and yelled. "Hey! Knock it off! You're tracking footprints everywhere! Don't make me do it! I'll push you back!" Anyone could clearly see there were no footprints to be found. "Oh. I'm Orphyn! Hiya!" she then said to Larewen when her question sunk in.
Larewen watched for a long moment, to the best of her ability, as Orphyn spoke. She took note of the way she described Damien, and how she referred to her creations as dollies. Oddly enough, it seemed to amuse the necromancer - perhaps because Orphyn showed a lack of fear for the undead. "I like to think that we give and give," the elf corrected at last. "After all, Clayton and Damien would still be six feet under, were it not for my own assistance with returning them to the world of the living. Perhaps not quite as they were, but here all the same." As she spoke, again she looked to Clayton. "Would you rather still be dead?" It was asked out of curiosity, but the way in which the necromancer asked seemed to be a reminder that if he'd like, she could undo her work. Whether or not she would, or whether she'd make her creations suffer, was an entirely different question.
Clayton shook his head quietly his head plate clanking with his breast armor. It was then that he he spotted one of the mortal type entering the tavern. Perhaps looking to relax after a days work or breakfast before a nights fun. The knights dead eyes locked onto the man, following him intentionally causing his discomfort. The act while small and petty seemed to amuse the “big lout” to the point of having to hold back the laughter each time the mortal would look then turn his head away.
Orphyn grew rather annoyed. Not with larewen or Clayton per se, but with whatever unseen madness that went on inside her mind. Blue cotton pocket rifled through, the crimson haired assassin pulled out a small stone sized satchel and opened it post-haste. Using the back of her hand as a flat surface, a small line of twinking power was laid out, quickly to be inhaled through the nostril with one long powerful snort. A powerful chill ran down the mad-woman's spine, causing her whole body to tremble. "Oh yeeeeeah. That's the spot." she muttered in some sort of depraved ecstasy. Those grey-blues settled first over Clayton, and then upon Larewen. "Mmmmmhmmmm. That's what they all say! Secrets and riddles. Gifts and and gifts, but at what cost, hmmmmm?" A sly little grin. A wink. "There's always a catch."
Larewen showed amusement at the interaction between giant and mortal, for it did not escape her magical stare. As there was no present danger, and no need yet to offer any sort of calming interaction with the giant, Larewen made no show of protecting the hapless mortal from the undead giant's sneering stare. Orphyn's withdrawing of that magical powder drew Larewen's attention soon after and her eyes narrowed slightly. A perk to her new "sight" allowed the blind necromancer to better identify sorts of magic through her eyes, and a dark brow arched. "Snorting pixie dust?" she asked, though it was rather redundant. Perhaps that was why the girl was so messed up? No. There had to be more to it, but whether or not the necromancer was interested in Orphyn's past was not made obvious. Her query, the grin, the wink, were met with an upward curl of the corners of the elf's lips. "Your humanity, at most. Eternal life, the potential to grow more and more powerful, for one little sacrifice? I see nothing wrong with that. Do you?"
Clayton too watched the girl put the powder up her nose, he then shrugs and puts his stare upon the human and then looks back to the necromancer and nods in agreement with her. Though agreement or just idle nodding wasn't sure. He straightens out his head and remains still almost egging for the scared human to make a move.
Orphyn sucked in her lower lip, eyelids falling with languid pace, the effects of the dust taking hold of her mental state. Bliss. Serenity. Peace and quiet. "Mmmmm. I guess that depends if you are dead or not, hmm hmm hmmm?" Slowly the girl began to rock with her mop, a gentle rhythmic cadence. "I like being slave to none. To do what I want. Nobody tells me what to do. Not no more. If they do, me and SiN get them good. Good good good." Given Larewen's relative position to the lighting in the room, the young assassin spots a means in which to traverse the tavern with little effort. It was but in the blink of an eye that Orphyn would appear in front of the necromancer; face mere inches from the other's. She had moved in such a way that the mop she danced with still stood erect for a moment, before the sound of it hitting the floor rattled out into the near-empty establishment. "My my, you have pretty strange eyes." she cooed gently. Her own were quite wide, one pupil pinned, the other full blown; Madness and intoxication mingled together. Suddenly one finger lifted and gently booped Larewen's nose before the assassin spun on the ball of her foot like a playful child, arms swung out, caution taken not to actually hit either the undead giant or his master. Orphyn stood then, neck craned to stare upon Clayton with wonder and amusement. "Such a big, big dolly. I want to play with you sometime!" That maniacal grin flashed, she suddenly blinked back to her original starting position to collect the mop and bucket. "Do you collect Corpses or body parts, La-la-la-Larewen?" she asked then.
Larewen couldn't do much but blink when Orphyn booped her nose. How was she supposed to respond to that? On a worse day, the elf might have sought to bite the other's finger, but fortunately Larewen was rather mild today. Her jaw tensed for a brief moment as she stared at Orphyn. Her closeness had been unwanted, too. When Orphyn spun away, the vexation was visible on the necromancer's features. "And you are a strange girl, truly. Tell me, why are you in Vailkrin? Why seek work in a place like this, where there are many that would sooner consume you?" As for whether Larewen collected corpses or body parts, the answer was both. She didn't grace Orphyn with a reply, though. Her dark gaze moved toward Clayton, perhaps even indicating her vexation. "I can also improve the quality of their lives, if they so wished." As she spoke, her stare remained upon the giant. "Clayton, would you like to be able to speak again?"
Orphyn had gone to the back to store the mop and bloody-water filled bucket, her absence not more than but a minute or less. When she re-emerged from the back room, her first objective was to head to the bar, one hand outstretched, palm up. "Money." she stated. Steadmen looked up and said with a stern expression. "End o'the week." THe battle began! "Money. "End o'the week." "Money." "End o'the week!". The assassin's relentless demands never waivered. "MON. NEY." "END. O. THE. WEEK." Orphyn whined. "Paaaaatchy, Moooooneeeeey." With a disgruntled sigh, Steadmen lost this round. He produced a single golden coin, that same one Orphyn had given him earlier, and placed it into her waiting palm. A cute grin spread ear to ear. "Thank you." Finally she would answer Larewen as her gaze fell upon Clayton. "I gueeeeeesss you can! But, what if they do not want to be slaves? Do you damn them? Do you nestle them back to sleep?" This question was calculated. Too many times had she witnessed 'dollies' in great pain. Unable to break free from their masters. Unable to enjoy life as it once were. How cruel. The necromancer's earliest question was taken into consideration, the younger girl humming gently as she thought of a proper answer. "'Cause. It is nice here. There is an order that is understood by all." Grey-blues switched from lumber monstrosity to the flawless dark caster. "Out there. Between the reaches of Xalious to Cenril. Nothing but little flies waiting to be gobbled up in my web. Fake fake fake. All of them. They pretend to care. But they don't. They don't- don't- don't. Not even a little." A sore spot opened. "Here. No one cares. But they are honest about it. It is VERY primal. Brutally true yet comforting."
Larewen tilted her head. "This entire city is already damned, Orphyn. Or did you miss that when you walked in?" It was almost as if the elf were scolding a child for a moment, which wasn't too far off given the exchange between assassin and Steadmen. She lifted her shoulder in a shrug soon after. "Clayton and Damien have the freedom to make their own decisions; however, should they wish to turn against their loyalty to me, then they are not worthy of the gift I have bestowed upon them." She watched Orphyn curiously as she answered her query. "Then I suppose I ought to suggest you ought to practice caution, as not all of the undead are friendly.
Orphyn stared at Larewen. Unblinking, studious, tone nearly polar to the more relaxed one from earlier in the conversation. "Are you friendly La-la-la-Laaarewen? Or do you play the game of games? Friends close and enemies closer?"
Larewen smiled thinly to Orphyn. "At present, I am friendly," came her reply. Larewen was, after all, as fickle as they came.