RP:The Black Lotus Investigation
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
Summary: Quintessa and Kanna embark to Venturil at the behest of the Guild in search of the cause behind a curious string of poison-related deaths. What they instead find is wanted posters with Kanna's face on them, and a very cautious pair of mortuaries.
Engraved Gates
The high, white wall’s circle around the city is unbroken, save for this one place. Heavy gates have been built into the white stone, made of thick wood plated in heavy bronze, which is engraved with interwoven beasts and burnished to a gold-like shine. Guards patrol the wall’s top, man the gatehouse, and stand before the gates themselves, looking capable in their shining byrnies and rounded helmets. They decide who enters the city, and they take the tolls from those allowed within. The flag of Venturil’s king flies above the gates, depicting a crowned, golden bear on a field of red.
The summer heat is nearly unbearable in most parts of Lithrydel at this time of year. The worst of that heat, save for the arid desert, is in the dry plains of Venturil. “This is so exciting!” Kanna gushes, oblivious to the sweltering air around her and in the Dragana’s palanquin. When traveling, she still maintains her humanlike appearance with a simple illusion cantrip, though her unusually cold touch tells otherwise. Quintessa sits opposite the undead bard while she prattles on about how terribly lonely its been in House Dragana with only the barely verbal undead servants to speak too, and how she might have remembered more about the missing person they tried to find one, but she also could not be sure if it was real or if she made it up after reading about the Xalious Celestial Celebration Ball, and-- “Oh, we’re here!” The ghoul notes, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she talked at and not with the countess the entire trip.
Kanna leaves the carriage first, taking a gander at their surroundings. Venturil was an unremarkable castle town with architecture painted in a blinding white that stood in stark contrast to that of Vailkrin. The promenade is surprisingly silent for being just before sunset, when laborers generally begin to make their trek back from work, and children are ushered inside. “Where do you think everyone is?” Kanna asks innocuously, her bright sapphire eyes scanning for signs of life. As the palanquin moves past a bulletin board that stands in contrast to the whitewash of the surrounding tavern, she takes note of a poster that has “Wanted” in bright red letters. “Wait, wait, stop!” She sticks her head out to address the coachman. When the palanquin stops, the woman affixes a half-mask that leaves her jaw and lips open, but her eyes and nose obscured. The mask is made to resemble a rabbit, save for the teeth and whiskers, made of a pale ivory and painted with light blooms along the eyes. The woman steps from the carriage and plucks the poster from the board and shows it to the countess. The drawing bears only a slight resemblance to Kanna, yet reads ‘Kanna Tsuji - Suspected of Black Lotus Killings - Do not approach if unarmed.’
Countess Quintessa Dragana was a gregarious sort, one who loved wasting hours and hours of her time chatting about the latest gossip and juicy trivialities whenever someone would give her the chance to speak them, and the changeling could always count on Kanna to want to take part. The journey to Venturil was enjoyable, as it gave Quintessa a chance to unload all of the stress she had collected over the last month or so, stress about secret entanglements and fears of war breaking out and consuming her lover’s homeland of Xalious. The relaxing part of the trip was drawing to a close however, as Kanna pointed out, and the changeling stretches slightly before rising to join the bard outside of her palanquin. Mismatched eyes of blue and hazel gleam with adoration when she reads the wanted poster, and the hex blade looks up at the ghoul with stars in her eyes. “You never told me!” Quintessa’s reaction is probably far from the norm, “Bards really are multi-talented huh? Songstress, murderess, and probably the second-cutest girl I’ve ever met.” The changeling winks, not taking the situation as seriously as she perhaps should have, given the looks the two women were starting to get. Her delicate fingers wiggle slightly as she reaches for the poster. “Can I keep this? I sort of collect wanted posters…”
The bardess could not help but give a stifled laugh at the countess’ reaction. “Well, you can keep it, but…” She pulls the poster away from quintessa and holds it up next to her masked face. “The proportions are all wrong! I don’t have a mole here, and my chin isn’t nearly this well-defined!” Kanna complains in a teasing tone to match her companion for the day. Her smile falls, and she gives the poster a once-over again before rolling it up and handing it over. “So no, ‘Kanna Tsuji’ is not the Black Lotus Killer.” As she says so, her eyes flicker between the windows that loom in dark contrast to the pale bricks. From at least two different areas, they were being watched. “I suppose Venturil has become unaccustomed to visitors.” She muses. The mask would have to stay for now. Kanna smoothes out the wrinkles in her colorful gothic-style gown, borrowed from Larewen’s closet at Quintessa’s insistence, and color changed with a touch of magic at Kanna’s own negotiations. “Now then, where are these bodies? If these flowers are really that deadly, I want to see so for myself.”
“Yes, my sketches of you are much better- Look, they didn’t even get the shape of your eyes right, or your cute nose. What plebeian drew this?” Quintessa shakes her head before taking the poster for safe keeping in her cloak pocket. “So, if Kanna Tsuji isn’t the Lotus Killer, then who? Why would they think the sweetest bard in all Lithrydel would do this?” Not a moment after the words passed the changeling’s pale lips did the memories of following Kanna’s gory path of dessication fill her mind. “Actually, nevermind. We should focus on tracking the real killer down before the local authorities catch wind of us.” Quintessa’s mismatched eyes scan the area. Where could they start? “Well, the bodies would likely be in a mortuary unless they’ve been interred already. I’m not familiar with Vanturil customs, but I’m hoping they didn’t cremate the corpses or anything. If we are lucky they’ll have a fresh body for us to look at- come, let’s find the morgue.” Quintessa waves her hand to her undead minions, giving them the order to carry her vehicle someplace out of the way, before she drifts down the street looking to the local graveyard.
A wry smile graces the woman’s painted pink lips as Quintessa’s eyes light up after the comment. She gives a noise of affirmation as her heels click after the changeling. As they traverse through the town, the bard keeps her masked face upturned to take in the sights of the castle town. “This place is so nice. It could do with so much more color, maybe some flower beds or two, but I suppose people like a minimalistic style. Can’t fathom, why, but…” The local clinic in the area points them in the direction of the mortuary past the inn. As they walk, Kanna notices a figure standing at the window to the herbal shop across the white streets, but brushes it away as another concerned citizen. As they enter the funeral parlor, they are greeted by a frail-looking man with greying hair. “Well, hi!” Kanna steps forward despite the man’s visible alarm at a masked woman entering the shop. She takes one of his hands with both of her own gloved ones and gives it a few shakes. “My name is Marigold, I work with Bradyn at the Vailkrin Mortuary, we’re here because we heard you have someone with no other funeral rites for disposal, is that right?” The bard, apparently named Marigold now, smiles from the man to Quintessa. “A-ah. Pleasure, my name is Herbert. Y-yes, that may be right, I-I will have to check with my sister though, she is the head mortician.”
Quintessa can’t help but giggle at her traveling companion as she goes on about adding a splash of color to the drab little town in the middle of Venturil, spinning to walk backwards as they move down the road. “Oh, I’ve seen the way -you- decorate.” The changeling gives her an impish smile before turning back to watch where she’s going. “At first I thought it was a little much for my tastes, but I admit I’ve grown fond of your sense of style.” When they enter the funeral parlor Quintessa’s smile evaporates as the air around her becomes more serious, especially at the mention of Bradyn Mahara’s name. She stiffens, but doesn’t protest. Bradyn must have dealt with corpses from all over Lithyrdel, after all Vailkrin has the biggest graveyard. Dead bodies were their second biggest import. With cool, mismatched eyes, the dark fae girl furrows her brow at the man as he keeps glancing at Kanna’s mask. “Don’t do that-” Quintessa orders sharply to the man, “Don’t stare. She had an accident.” The frail old man suddenly looks shocked at his own suspensions of ‘Marigold’s’ mask, and he bows his head apologetically. “I meant no offense. Please, excuse me.” With that Herbert headed back to retrieve his sister, leaving the two women alone for a moment. “Good thinking,” Quintessa praises the bard with a cheeky smirk, sapphire and topaz eyes flickering in the dim light as she fixes her gaze upon the bard. “Bradyn practically wrote the book on modern corpse preservation… Or at least he collected it. I forget which.”
The woman who has suddenly decreed herself to be Marigold gives a flirtatious smile at the mortician’s assistant once the man is gone. “Is it truly a little white lie if this condition was an accident?” Kanna says innocently enough, twirling a lock of steel grey-blue hair around her finger. With a gloved hand to conceal her pallid complexion, the bardess lifts an ornamental skull from the vacant desk serving as a paperweight. The skull appears to be orcish in nature, cast in bronze with the long tusks still intact. The paperweight rattles slightly in her hand as she boldly glances at the papers beneath. “Mm?” A noise of curiosity escapes her before the ornament is placed back down. Across Quintessa is a listing of services provided and prices. Starkly different from standard mortuaries, something advertised as ‘natural burials’ are offered at a discounted price. ‘Return to the soil that Hind provided ye with. Seeds of your choosing will be implanted, allowing you to visit and tend to your loved one even after passing.’ Footfalls signal the return of Herbert, along with his sister. Clearly younger than him, the plump woman is a beacon of sunshine in the grim building. Golden locks are pulled back with braids into a neat bun, from which sprigs of baby’s breath peek out. Her attire is similarly a bright white with gold and green accents. “You must be Bradyn’s girls.” The woman steps forward to shake each of their hands. Kanna naturally reciprocates and introduces herself as Marigold again, making some idle comment about how beautiful her floral accessory is in rose and sunflower bouquets.
Quintessa allows the corner of her mouth to creep into a cheeky smirk, mismatched eyes flickering over to gaze at Kanna mischievously. “The best lies always contain a little truth, no?” Although the bard was correct, it was more or less an accident given that the woman had not chosen to be turned undead. This fate had been thrust upon her unwillingly. Crossing her arms impatiently, Quintess begins to eye the listing before her idly, a cynical ‘hmph’ escaping from her as she reads something about returning to ‘Hind’s soil’. A staunch atheist, the changeling rolls her eyes at what she considered backwards burial practices before the sound of footsteps snapped her attention away from the listings to view the plump woman who approaches. “Greetings,” the countess replies, offering Herbert’s sister her delicate hand before she nods at her assumption. “Yes, Marigold and I are understudies of Bradyn Mahara, sent from the Vailkrin Mortuaries. My name is Quintessa, Provectus Malus of the guild that oversees these matters there. It is my understanding that you have a corpse that needs to be handled more… delicately.” The necromancer speaks slowly, choosing her words with care. “I’ve heard troubling rumors about undead spontaneously appearing in the region, and I need to make sure this isn’t related to the Cenril Outbreak to help contain the spread.” Quintessa’s brow furrows as she pauses, her voice hushing as she leans closer. “I’d prefer to keep this between the four of us. The last thing we need is for the common folk to grow hysterical if they begin to assume the worst. You understand?”
The woman gives a nod at Quintessa’s inquiry, and again at her commentary. “Yes, thank the heavens that the swarm of undead have yet to reach our lovely city, may its walls protect us.” Kanna’s painted pink lips twitch into a half-smile, thankful that her ‘collection’ is still in containment. Herbert nods solemnly, his demeanor souring immediately. “Yes, it is quite troublesome enough that we’ve lost our best botanists and herbomancers to this weed.” There is a flicker of something strange in his sister’s expression when she says this, but she instead purses her lips and waves for the trio to follow. The weary man rises from his desk in a silent resignation to see the corpse. A gentle hand from Kanna is passed over his shoulder as she passes him to follow the woman into the morgue. “I’m so sorry, we didn’t catch your name, Miss…” The mortician gives a cheerful smile as she turns to the two semi-humans. “Ah, where are my manners? You may call me Nerium.” Kanna’s smile falls the moment the bright woman turns her back to open the door to the morgue. “Ah, that’s lovely. Isn’t that a type of flower?” Quintessa could recognize Kanna’s tone immediately as one that is leading into another, more important question. Nerium would invariably talk idly about how her parents named her after the flowering plants that once surrounded the plains of Chartsend, while her brother inherited an ancestral name and was really named Herbert IV. As she speaks, she unlocks the mortuary cabinets and slides out a putrefying corpse. Its stench is barely concealed by the mixtures of embalming herbs that lay heavily in the air, and the sweet stink of the glossy black lotuses that sprout from the deceased’s eyes and mouth.
“Oleander,” Quintessa answers Kanna’s question immediately, “It’s a flowering shrub- extremely toxic, especially the sap.” The self-proclaimed toxomancer revealed in flexing her knowledge of poisons, so she jumped on the opportunity without thinking. She was much too preoccupied with the knowledge that botanists and herbomancers had been disproportionately affected by this mysterious activity to worry about coming off as a ‘know-it-all’. “A beautiful name either way.” She adds as an afterthought, hoping to make up for her rude interruption. As the quartet makes their way to the corpse slabs, Quintessa prepares by slipping onto her hands a pair of black gloves to keep them clean if she chooses to more closely examine the body. “Interesting…” the young scholar muses, stooping closer to view the glossy flowers that sprout from whatever orifices they could before pulling a pair of mithril tweezers. The dark fae girl didn’t seem at all affected by the smell of the decaying body, a gleam of curiosity showing in her sapphire and topaz eyes. “This appears to be a rare breed of Nelumbo Nucifera, normally an aquatic plant…” Quintessa plucked the flower sprouting out of the deceased’s mouth, bringing it closer to her face and rotating it slowly. She thought for a moment about the black lotus hairpin that she often wore, a gift from Nicola, and remarked internally at the accuracy of the decorative jewelry. “Marigold,” Mismatched eyes peel themselves away from the flower to fall upon Kanna, “You are more familiar with plant-based magic than myself- How is this possible? I saw something like this once before, with mushrooms. Maybe this body is suffering from a similar fate?” As Quintessa addressed her student, Nerium and Herbert exchanged nervous glances, neither one of them appreciating the body being treated like a macabre science experiment but both unable to offer much protest as the changeling took control of the situation.
An idle hand adjusts the half-mask to allow her to see better as she leans into the corpse, appearing to be unaffected by the odor as well. Not entirely, as she gives a comment quiet enough for only her companion to hear after a few moments of deliberation, “This flesh would have been crippling to any undead trying to eat it, even when it was new; I ate the flesh of a gnome addicted to the high from zorata leaves, and I was immobile for a day since it turns out their second liver retains trace amounts of neurotoxins that builds up until bursting and entering the bloodstream all at once. This has a similar smell; definitely separate from the bitter smell of those converted from Cenrilian invasion.” Having grown bored of her usual flirtatious lifestyle of seducing meals, the undead bard had indulged herself in assisting with Quintessa’s research, occasionally feeding various poisons to her still living captives to observe the effects and document what poisons the undead could consume. ‘It’s not inhumane, what’s inhumane is kidnapping Avian children and selling their down feathers that still retain magical properties on the black market. Isn’t that right, Ymtri?’ Kanna once defended her actions in this manner when asked. The corpse suddenly shudders slightly and gives a low groan of agony, causing the necrobotanist to step back. A seed pod grows back immediately from where Quintessa had plucked the flower itself. A glass vial is retrieved from a side-pocket on her dress and handed to the dark fae to store the seeds of the plant. If they were allowed to take the seeds themselves, their trip would have been accomplished. Kanna, however, had a burning curiosity to know more. “Why do you think the botanists of the town were targeted and not you, who seems to have a nice hobby in floramancy?” She asks boldly, cornflower eyes locking on the pale green of Nerium.
Quintessa’s mismatched eyes flicker over to Kanna as she speaks about biology, a feeling of pride for her student blooming much like the flowers they were examining. It wasn’t that long ago that the changeling regarded the bard as someone uneducated, but Quintessa knew that only meant Kanna would appreciate the opportunity to learn more than someone born to affluence. That was not always the case for those who grew up entitled to knowledge; The Orange Witch, Larelynn Thorne, was on the opposite end of this spectrum, but her talent for necromancy was undeniable. After a moment of contemplation the smile on Quintessa’s face fades and she fixes her attention on the body once more, blue and hazel eyes narrowing as her brow furrows. Wordlessly, the hexblade takes the glass vial and stores the seed sample within, finishing the first part of their task in this area without a hitch. While her partner in this mission (and sometimes partner in crime) questions Nerium further on the motivations of the Black Lotus Killer, the changeling pulls her goggles down over her face and mutters the words “Dangos mwy i mi,” causing a lime green glow to illuminate the tinted glass that normally shielded her eyes from bright lights. With this spell she was able to read and study the magical imprints woven within the corpse at her leisure, soft mumbles of what she was identifying spoken to no one in particular.
“Me?” Nerium locks eyes with ‘Marigold’ in turn, coldness revealed only but a second before her overbearing cheerfulness filled the room once more. “Well, whoever is doing this only seems to target well known professionals in the field. My little hobby hasn’t gained the same kind of attention, thank the heavens. Besides, my work here in the mortuary takes up most of my time even when there isn’t a backlog of people to inturr- I never have the chance to practice.” Nerium’s brother shifts his gaze quickly back and forth between the women gathered here, sensing a tenseness in the air that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “What are you saying? Will the Black Lotus Killer really come for you next?” This line of questioning only seems to make the man even more skittish than he was when Quintessa and Kanna first arrived.
Painted lips curl from a sweet, coy smile, to a full grin that highlights her dimples in the dim moratorium’s light. “Of course not, this could be as simple as the university’s botanists working with a dangerous hybrid. Anyways, I’m thirsty.” Kanna suddenly decrees. Before the poor man has time to react, the bardess has taken his hand in both of her gloved ones, holding it dangerously close to the ruffles of her dress. “It’s really cold in here, isn’t it? Could we have some tea, Herbert? Pretty please?” Kanna even bats her silvery eyelashes for added dramatic effect. The man pulls his hand back and suddenly finds the rest of the lockers very interesting to look at as he mumbles something and retreats back to the office area. With just the three of them left, Kanna turns her attention back to the head mortician, who at this point is scowling heavily at the disgusting display shown towards her brother. “You know, if you want to be an effective serial killer, you have to kill people with no connection to you too so the circle of connections cannot point right at you.” Alarmed by the sudden declaration, Nerium suddenly steps back, all hints of warmth gone from her demeanor. “How dare you!!” The human reaches behind her and grabs onto a bottle. Kanna, unfazed by the sudden hostility, takes a step forward in time with Nerium, her smile still wide. “How many times have--” A thick crystal bottle of some pungent tinctures is swung at Kanna’s head, resounding with a loud crack as it connects with both her skull and the edge of the rabbit mask, sending the ghoul to the floor from the momentum.
Quintessa only watches with a cold, expressionless look on her face as Kanna tempts Nerium’s brother and brings her more possessive and protective emotions out enough to actually strike the bardess hard enough to knock her to the floor. Before Nerium can continue her assault, Quintessa moves to fill the void between her and Kanna, a pale hand moving up to clutch the wrist of her companion’s assailant. “You are out of line, Churl.” The changeling’s voice rattles with a dangerous venom, enough that it actually catches Nerium by surprise as they lock eyes with one another. A moment of silence hangs heavily in the room, Quintessa’s intense stare burrowing into the equally fiery eyes of Nerium for a short time before she wrenched her arm away from the hexblade. “I think you two should leave.” She hisses with suppressed rage, staring at Quintessa angrily for stepping in when she did. The changeling turns her back on the woman to stoop down to Kanna, her hand reaching out to help her knowing that a simple blow to the head wasn’t enough to do any serious harm to a ghoul. “Marigold,” She speaks in a soft coo to her friend, checking for damage to her rabbit mask, “We’ve worn out our welcome. Let’s return to our carriage, shall we?” Though it sounded like Quintessa was really to leave, she was far from done with them, she just wanted to get out of earshot so she could tell Kanna her plan. Herbert and Nerium were connected to the Black Lotus Killer, somehow, and Quintessa and Kanna were going to get to the bottom of it tonight.