RP:Put a Pin in That

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Part of the Dissonance Theory Arc

Summary: Summoned via letter by a restaurant entrepreneur and necromantic practitioner named Joan, Lionel journeys to the improbably successful Blackheart Taco Shop in Vailkrin's Dark Forest. At his side are Rorin and Quintessa, whose opinions of Joan's deal -- powerful holy trinkets in exchange for protection against a certain rival figure -- help factor into Lionel's decision to decline.

Blackheart Taco Shop

Joan ::Deep in the heart of the doom and gloom of Vailkrin can be found this rather out of place happy and friendly humble restaurant, the rather mouthwatering smells of cooking meats, and spices waffle from the vents, giving the area surrounding the restaurant a rather unique aura compared to the rest of the dark forest, it seemed more bright, cheery, greenery can be seen peeking up about the shop as customers stream in and out of the restaurant, some with small boxed leftovers, others with bigger boxes full family meals. Inside the restaurant can be found Joan, the owner of this little oddity, talking with a small human grandmother. Their chatter is good natured, the old woman’s three sons are in the cornered off kitchen area cooking, as their wives, and children (preteen, teen, to young adult) work as waiters, busboys or girls or kitchen staff. All moving about taking care of of the customers that need to be seated, have orders taken, drinks given, appetizers placed before, dishes cleared, ect.

Lionel had done a great many things in a great many places, and he’d received a great many summons from a great many corners of the realm. He had not, however, ever been summoned to a taco shop in the depths of a deadly forest patrolled by all manner of vile beastkin, including giant spiders with a taste for blood that only the vampires themselves could rival. “This could be a trap,” he thought out loud, and without the external magical powers he once wielded he had become the last thing he ever expected to be -- cautious. “May as well make it a team effort.” Requesting Rorin’s aid was ever an easy feat, and with Quintessa so hungry for combat experience it seemed a reasonable presumption that it wouldn’t be hard to goad her, either. It was a three-day journey from the training grounds far outside of Frostmaw to the Dark Forest; a journey that was filled with simple misadventures along the way. An elven lass in Kelay petitioned the trio to help her find her glasses, which -- as fate would have it -- were on her face. A pair of dwarven entrepreneurs had attempted to sell liverwurst to the travelers on Milous Road, but Lionel hated liverwurst so he declined. Last and perhaps not least, a sheep the size of a watchtower blocked the route north to Vailkrin and needed to be fleeced… permanently. But now they were here, the warriors three, having navigated the forest and avoided any unfortunate run-ins with vicious fauna. Directly ahead was precisely the establishment that the author of the letter Lionel received claimed it would be. “Literally, a taco stand,” the Catalian said in disbelief. “Wait, what’s a taco, anyway?” Whether or not he received any answers, he led the way into the restaurant and looked around.

Rorin looked at the establishment with healthy skepticism. He had seen similar works of construction lying in ruins somewhere inside a gate to the Preklek realm, and he wondered if perhaps a touch of the thing beyond the void had entered the mind of whoever had designed this here. He half expected the place to swallow them whole, or for the people inside to suddenly turn and look at them with eerily similar faces that weren’t quite right. Draped in a black, wax coated cloak, a mask covering his face, the paladin seemed to be in some fitting disguise for the rest of the surroundings but would stand out like some unrecognized species of bug here. He soothed a large moving bundle that wriggled on his back and shifted it to the front, putting his hand inside gently. “I think it’s a uh... food.” Rorin said after a moment, for once stumped despite his admittedly vast studies.

Quintessa had no issue accompanying Lionel to meet this mystery person. The Catalian wasn't very detailed in his explanation to the changeling about what he thought might be a trap; he didn't need to be. Quintessa, predictably, grabbed her gear and joined them. If Lionel had told Quintessa where they were headed, she might have been able to better prepare him for what he might expect to see. "Oh, that," the hex blade says, her mismatched eyes shifting away to gaze at the passing trees. "It's some strange noble delicacy. House Blackheart owns this shop that sells them in the Dark Forest. I don't why in the forest of all places, the giant spiders kill most of the people who survive the feral lycan attacks the these lands, but people come out here for these tacos." The hex blade files in behind the two men, flipping her cloak over her shoulder as she grips the hilt of her blade. "I doubt it's a trap. Nothing big happens in the Dark Forest without me knowing about it." Still, Quintessa couldn't get over the pleasantness of this place. It creeped her out to see people this happy. "Well, anyway, who is this person you are supposed to meet?"

Joan spent enough gold every month to have a journey level Mage student come out to keep up the magical protections laid on the well beaten trail to and from her restaurant. Ensuring the safety of her patrons against said giant spiders and lycans was what kept her customers traveling so far out into the dark forest to seek out this far flung out of the way restaurant for the delicious spicy dishes. It also helped that the staff took the time to get to know their customers and treat them like friends and well respected customers, knowing their orders and taking time to chat about mundane little things. One thing Joan liked to pride her continued business thriving on. After speaking with the tiny grandmother she’d lay out a few select house dishes that where always hits with newcomers on a table near the entrance, a pitcher of fresh water placed next to a basket of warm nachos and salsa and dipping cheese was placed before her as she awaited for her company to arrive, enter, see her and come seat themselves at the table.

Lionel had an itch on the back of his neck. “Heck, my neck,” he said a bit too loudly. Numerous patrons of Blackheart Taco Stand suddenly realized that they, too, had neck itches. In a sudden rush, no fewer than ten people, Lionel included, scratched at the backs of their necks. There was never any explanation for this, nor was it relevant to anything that happened afterward. Was it circumstance? Serendipity? Or a mystery left unsolved? “Joan, I guess,” Lionel answered his changeling companion. “Judging by the contents of her letter, I’m figuring she’s the owner and proprietor of this here shindig.” Shindig -- an old Catalian word. He was bringing it back. “Say, that woman over there. She looks like a Joan.” Fortune favored the bold, and so it was that Lionel’s guess was correct. There was food in front of him that he’d never before seen, but it smelled pretty good and in the end that was all that mattered. “Joan?” He took a seat, inviting Rorin and Quintessa to do the same. Either this was indeed Joan or he’d just invited all three of them to dine with someone who would have no doubt felt bewildered.

Rorin sat down uncomfortably, looking at the foreign food and not feeling quite as hungry as some would assume. He was a black blot among cheerily dressed and decorated surroundings. He shifted the sack, still wriggling but now making a quiet high pitched screeching, mewling noise, and when Rorin flipped the lid open he was greeted by a still blind product of griffon parentage. The black and dark, muddled brown thing looked as if it were speckled in dry blood, and it’s eyes remained unopened. It’s head was nearly bald and a strange prickly black skin stood out among tufts of growing hair. Rorin prepared a bowl of warm porridge for the child, a thick red slip of chunks that he had to drip into its eager mouth. The paladin seemed right at home feeding the child though, happy as calm in his dark cloak and mask.

Quintessa frowns as she follows slowly, her spiked heels clicking loudly on the wooden floor. "Of course it's Joan," the changeling mutters, a pale hand running through the messy bobbed hair that sat upon her head. "Who else would come out this way for a meeting? I hear she has to hire someone from the Mage's Guild to put up wards. Last year, all the Arcane Stewards had to draw straws to see who would have to do it. I hope they don't make me do it this year..." Quintessa looks glum by the time she spots Joan but she confirms her identity all the same. "Yep, this is her, Joan Blackheart. Hey, did you ever add spicy brain and bloody entrail tacos to the menu like Larewen told me about? If so, I'll actually try it."

Joan looked happy to see Lionel, the masked Rorin gets a nod and Quintessa a disapproving frown, a hand gesture is given to have them sit and dig in. “This restaurant-Shop-, is in fact quite well made, it’s no shack...we even have working indoor plumbing.” She nods towards the well marked men and then woman’s doors that would lead to the restrooms. “As for the wards in place, those were done and maintained for safety of my patrons, I don’t do the wards myself because the undead tend to leave a trace of darkness in the magical energies, any novice Mage would know that. When you are trying to attract customers you want to foster good energy and vibes, it’s better business.” This she speaks aloud and many customers overhearing speak aloud ‘Hear-hear!’ Or ‘Agreed!’ These Joan nods her acknowledgment to before she pins ‘Tessa with a stare, “Mortals like to feel warmed and welcomed, not scared, cold and ill at ease.” She’d turn away and lightly push the basket to warm nachos towards Lionel, “Please, these are warm chips, there is salsa to scoop onto the chip, or warm melted spiced cheese to dip the chip into, you eat it and enjoy. The salsa is cut up vegetables that is soaked in it’s own veggie juices with lime and a hint of vinegar. The meat dishes are beef, pork, or chicken cooked in local and traded spices from across the seas. They are paired with spiced rice, cooked with peppers, onions, green onions and such, we also have a bean like paste that is severed with these soft and hard shell tacos, inside of them is cooked meats, vegetables, topped with different types of shredded cheeses. And yes there is cooked and prepared animal inners, but those are for more experienced and refined patrons. What is here on the table is the simple basics we suggest for those that have not had our dishes before.”

Rorin spoke a bit out of turn as Joan was running Lionel through some kind of ingredients list. “We’re here for the job.” He spoke loudly enough to cut through somewhere around vegetable juice and limes. His voice may be muffled, but he projected it with an air of cold authority and self surety that would stop most other young folk in their tracks. “Something about a body guard?” Rorin didn’t know he details exactly there didn’t seem to be many, but he said it nonetheless. After all, if it was dangerous, he’d be working right alongside Lionel, lik it or not.

Joan would offer a raised brow look towards the masked Rorin, Joan knew who he was by scent alone. They may have only met once during the dead rat gathering she was doing at the time months ago, but the vampire merchant never forgot a face or scent. “I was getting to that after all the pleasantries where obversed.” Her voice cool.

Lionel liked food. Who didn’t like food? The only person Lionel could recall who wasn’t fond of it was Scandal, which was likely for the best as Scandal’s diet had caused some measure of uproar in years past. Taking a seat opposite Joan and nodding politely to the elderly woman seated beside her, he began to dig in. It seemed categorically unlikely that he would be poisoned whilst surrounded by two strong allies and so many cheerful bystanders. As Joan explained the ingredients in full, the Catalian started to wonder why such dishes weren’t more popular across Lithrydel. “I think,” he said between mouthfuls of chips topped with spiced cheese, “I’ll ask to have this stuff imported into Frostmaw.” A reasonable request, he figured, though he smirked with satisfaction when Rorin did precisely as he had predicted -- interrupted the proceedings to get down to business. Throughout his bites, Lionel had subtly assessed the thick air of bitterness and venom which seemed to emanate between Quintessa and Joan. They were associates, he gathered, but not friendly ones. Regardless of what Joan said next, this was to be filed away in his mind for safekeeping. “Something about a bodyguard, indeed.” Lionel stretched his arms, placing his open palms together finger by finger, and reached for a glass of water to wash down his snack. “Time is of the essence, so if you could get to the point that’d be splendid. Don’t get me wrong -- the food’s delish. Also, whatever it is that you’re offering, if I say yes, these two are in it together with me. Even if this one hops off momentarily, as she is wont to do.” Lionel’s writer briefly and vaguely broke the fourth wall, predicating Quintessa’s imminent departure.

Quintessa grips her sword idly as she looks over the food. She had not yet been seated and she wouldn't be seated any time soon. "Bodyguards?" the changeling scoffs, "What, to protect you from all these happy customers? Lionel, this is a waste of my time. If Joan actually has a job for us just send for me in Xalious. Word will reach my office there quickly enough." With that the strange girl turns around, giving a lazy wave over her shoulder as a farewell before she disappears outside and back into the Dark Forest.

Rorin didn’t have much time to spare for pleasantries, and said so. “We don’t have much time to spare for pleasantries.” His body language- a few quick head movements- suggested he was slightly surprised Lionel could not only predict, judging by his smirk, but also tolerate Rorin’s terse position. He was also surprised Lionel was eating so eagerly, the thing he didn’t add to his comments after all, was that Rorin didn’t have time for pleasantries *down here*. After all, Lionel was basically a public enemy in this neck of the woods, and not only in spite of but likely in part because of his outfit (the outfit strangely similar to those worn by the Witch Hunters of Larket after all, who were neither entirely welcomed nor disliked ‘down here’ as the paladin thought of it) he himself was likely not far behind. People would pay for Lionel’s head on a stick though, and Rorin wasn’t looking forward to a fight with the armies of the undead as much as one would think a paladin would like. To be honest, Rorin was a bit worried. Lionel no longe had Hellfire nor his living immortality, so a fight like that really wouldn’t be for the best. Rorin thought all this during Quintessas short farewell speech and waved her off with only a small glance. There was vitriol there, even a dullard could see. Rorin was just hoping things would come soon to a point.

Joan ignored Quintessa’s words and parting, it was with her that Joan had issue, yup. Things have come to a head with them and Joan now questioned everything about the teenager. Her gaze went from the masked Rorin to Lionel as the vampire merchant lightly pulled out from her left vest pocket a small glass vial, it was filled almost to the cork stopper with a gleaming liquid, this she’d hold between thumb and index finger for the two to examine. “On my journeys across the sea I came upon a rather strange creature, she claimed to have come from here, went by the name of Eladamri. Some kind of imp or whatnot, long story short, I did her a service and in return she gave me this vial...in it contains tears from her ex-husband, some hero from this land, a half Phoenix. She said these tears have amazing healing properties, just a mere drop or two can save a person from a near fatal mortal wound...*she rolls the small vial between her fingers.* I’m suggesting a trade, this vial for bodyguard work, there is a...certain girl that is going about sayin she has rights to claim areas of the dark forest, and she may try to claim my land, which I won’t stand for. I bought this land far and square, built this restaurant, and soon will be expanding to add a cottage. Should this ‘girl’ try to come claim what is mine I need a bodyguard to help defend me and my own.”

Lionel eyed the vial but didn’t touch it. He was curious, and it would be a fool who didn’t recognize the value in such a piece, but curious fools frequently ended up dead and dusted. “Seems like a reasonable trade, though the Warrior’s Guild is presently investigating another matter -- one which involves a great number of people.” The former prince of Catal looked around at Joan’s happy clientele, and for all his remaining doubt as to how this restaurant could thrive in such a grim locale, he still knew innocent lives when he saw them. “And property disputes are seldom our gig, really. But on occasion, I can see the value.” He said the words briskly and casually, leaving open the implication that he may have meant the vial when in fact he meant the safety of these patrons. “I won’t agree to defend this joint myself. No offense intended, but when situations like these arise the guild either declines or it sends in the junior members. I’m considering doing just that,” he said between bites of yet another chip, “though I need more intel on this certain girl of yours. Namely, her intentions and her relative strength.” Matter-of-factly, Lionel tilted his head to Rorin and added, “We need to suss out whether she’ll put up a fight against our very own Quintessa.”

Rorin considered the proposition. Lionel frankly didn’t give a damn about pay, he knew that, and Lionel didn’t give a damn about a Vailkrin turf war or a personal dispute either. But if the people here were caught in such a conflict, they’d all more than likely die. Rorin didn’t want that to happen - couldn’t let it happen, really. If Lionel refused, Rorin would be down for who knows how long by himself, watching out for these supposed intruders. That did not appeal to him either. But, considering Rorins many other jobs, this didn’t hold a lot of importance. He didn’t like weighing lives as numbers, but it seemed relative here in choosing what he’d have to do. Lionel confirmed most of Rorins thoughts as he spoke, and Rorin nodded appreciatively at the end. Quintessa would be strong enough to hold off seasoned contenders on her own, but she was new to the guild, so she got the grunt work. This would probably work out just fine. Rorin patted his Griffon baby in thought and watched Joan for her reaction…

Joan strokes at her pale chin with her free hand, the vial rolled between thumb and index finger once more before she sets it down before her on the table, now she reaches for her belt pouch, untying it and reaching in with her fingers to slowly feel about and withdraw a small dark green pin feather, it should be rather recognizable to Lionel by the mere color alone and the aura given off by it. “Mm...I can add this...A pin feather by this hero, it has a one time use...should the wound be mortal, and the person at death’s door...you place it on the wound and...they will heal. But, like I said, one time use only.” She holds the pin feather by the quill then places it next to the vial before folding her hands together and looking at both Lionel and Rorin, “There is going to be a conflict of interest here fellows, for it is Quintessa herself that I’m referring to.” Her face stern.

Rorin didn’t exactly question that Quintessa would kill everyone in here and burn the place to the ground, it seemed pretty natural to her. To be honest, her lit by flames and the afterglow of delicious murder lingered in his thoughts a bit longer than it should have, and he ended up getting his finger griffin bit when he wasn’t paying enough attention. Again, Lionel couldn’t be swayed by funds or gifts or prizes of any kind, she was reaching for the wrong paddle in this boat. But did Lionel also think Quintessa was capable of wanton murder? Of course, and Rorin had an inkling he knew Lionel’s decision- but hey, he could always be surprised.

Lionel was tempted. For longer than he had hoped he would be. The power to cheat death, if he had had it in his grasp all those years ago, would have meant that Alexia Isis would have lived. She was long gone, and what pitiful shade of her remained had only weeks ago been lain to rest, but there was plenty Lionel would pay to prevent someone else whom he cared for from dying. He would do anything in his power to save and protect the young man beside him now. Beyond Rorin, there was also Penelope, and Krice, and old Mesthak, and there was the boy Dominic, and despite the rifts which had formed between them, there were Khitti and Brand as well. That was when Lionel O’Connor snapped back into what measure of self-worth he desperately tried to possess; that was when he remembered. It wasn’t just those whose names were near and dear to him that mattered. It was everyone who had ever fought and sacrificed alongside him. It was the whole world, truth be told, any and all who had never given in to final sin, but his allies were the most important people in that world. And now Lady Quintessa of House Dragana was one of them. “I’m truly sorry,” Lionel slowly mouthed the words. “But the Warrior’s Guild declines to assist you in any formal capacity.” He stood up and finished his glass of water before placing several golden coins on the table. The food and drink was offered as hospitality, but hospitality only went so far and Lionel knew it. Recompense was what he would provide Joan and her peers; recompense and amicable departure. He turned to leave but then he turned again, his face grim. The wise-cracking cynic in him was elsewhere at this moment, replaced by the more solemn man. “I know who she is,” he said abruptly. “I know what she’s capable of, too. When I met her, she was trying to kill me.” He tightened his left hand into a gentle fist. “And now she’s one of mine.” He signaled for Rorin to follow him out the door.

Joan shakes her head and sighs aloud, Men, fools the whole lot. She thought to herself as she gathered up the vial and pin feather. When Quintessa backstabbed Lionel and Rorin, Joan would be there to pity them. With a shrug the budding Necromancer put away the items she’d gain from her far flung travels and then signaled to one of the passing youths to come collect the dishes that where not touched by her visitors to be boxed up later with the rest of the leftovers and given to those in need. Ah well...