RP:The New And Improved Weapons Expert
Summary: Lanara takes Elioyahazer along for a day or running errands, as he's still recovering from previous injuries and is staying at her cottage. The pair heads to the relic museum in Xalious, where Lana intends on confronting the Adventurer's Guild Weapon Expert, Riordan. The man is being demoted due to his actions which include the physical abuse of a fellow guild member, drunken and disorderly behavior, and being a notorious womanizer. His actions are reflecting poorly on the guild, have put a recruit in the infirmary, and this doesn't sit well with the leader. Riordan doesn't take kindly to a tongue lashing from Lana, and he goes to strike the witch, when Eli steps in. A nail-biting battle ensues, and the desert man comes out the victor. Once the commotion dies down, Eli is offered to fill the position in the guild, as the weapons expert, and he accepts.
The sunlight filters through the window of her sister’s bedroom, and Lanara rolls over with a groan. She was exhausted. Yesterday had been a day of errands; a final fitting on a dress, helping Elio find some shops that carried things he may need in these lands, stopping by the sanctuary to check on the animals, and finally, their trip to the museum in Xalious. The maps were all wrong, Lana had been disappointed, and she asked the scholar to redraw them, with a sense of urgency in her tone. The villagers wouldn’t survive much longer on Twister Island, if they continuously had to postpone their adventure. Thoughts of the assassin occupy Lana’s mind, as she kicks the covers aside and looks for something to wear for the day. The previous night, she had moved many of her things into Talyara’s room, so that Elio would have room to store his belongings, as he’d be crashing there for at least a week. A pair of hip hugging jeans, ankle boots, and an off-the-shoulder pale yellow blouse, later, the witch is ready to begin the day. Before the mirror she gives a final assessment, twisting this way and that, and decided that this outfit looked casual, yet put together, and very feminine. Those long locks, which usually hang straight, have a mind of their own today, and rather than fighting them, Lana applies some gel to her fingertips, and embraces the thick, loose curls. Adding a spritz of perfume to her wrists and neck, she puts on her pentacle, and heads across the hall to knock on Elio’s door. “Morning! Are you awake, yet? I think we both overslept.” Scoundrel hasn’t made an appearance since the previous day, though Salem, a black cat, had returned home the night before and lies curled up before the door. Clearly, the kitten thought that Lana would be asleep in her own room, and he blinks in confusion as she picks him up. “You’re back. I missed you.” Kissing the kitten on his head, she strokes his fur and clears her throat, speaking through the door, “Sandman… I’m heading out in a few minutes. I have to go back to the museum to go over the maps, and make some preparations for the quest. I’ll be gone most of the day.” She pauses, trying to hide her smile behind the cat’s fur, “You can come with me, if you’re up for it.” Obviously, she was hoping he’d rush to the door and accept her offer. Hell, she’d even treat him to breakfast, conversation, and maybe a third kiss, along the way!
Elioyahazer had been up for some time; having already completed his morning exercises to the best of his abilities - despite recent injuries. His each and every dagger, sword and arrow he carries lays splayed out on a table along with all his necessary tools to maintain them. Some of these weapons were rather exotic in nature, with various hooks and leaf bladed shapes. When that knock suddenly barrages his eardrums and alerts him to Lanara’s presence, he comes to a stand and simply opens the door. The previously noted items sit out in plain view before her, but a vial of liquid sitting by itself on the table might draw her attention more than anything else. Did he really carry such an arsenal around with him? Perhaps that's part of the reason for his choice to stick in his desert style clothing. “Morning Lana,” a smile breaks his near emotionless facade - ruining the calm the desert assassin always seemed to carry outside of her presence. He isn’t sure if he will ever get used to that nickname, though he does admire it quite a bit. It is rather fitting. “I think I’d enjoy that.” He gives a mild nod in response. “Let me gather my things real quick, and finish getting ready for the day.” By that, he means donning his weapons and that veil of clothing she seems so uninterested in. Without further words he meanders on back and begins his near automatic work of resheathing every item. Only to strap them to his body, as if he had done this a million times; he seemed mechanical - precise in every action. “What do you need to take care of at the museum?” He asks once he’s finished, and finishes off his look with the crimson scarf that blocks all of his features from her. Elio is ready to go whenever she is and willing to follow.
Lanara returns his smile, a faint blush in her high cheekbones, as she shifts her gaze to peer past him and into the room. He had been busy making himself comfortable, and he seemed to have his entire arsenal laid out on bed, floor, and dressers. Many of the weapons she had never seen before, as they likely were from various lands, and different time periods. The vial of liquid is noted, though she doesn’t step into the room as he’s preparing to dress, and she assumes it’s a poison of some sort. Knowing how nosey she could be, it’s likely she’d sneak in later and pester him about his belongings. For now, she strokes the silken head of the cat, and points, “This is Salem. He often lurks at the sanctuary, but he’s come to pay us a visit.” The kitten is solid black, about twelve weeks old, and he peers up at the Elio with vivid yellow eyes, before giving a soft meow. “Perfect, it will be great to have you along for the journey. We’ll stop along the way and grab breakfast.” Lana exits the doorway and heads into the kitchen, where she fills food bowls for the raccoon and kitten, and pours some fresh water for them to drink. She waits for Elio to return, covered from head to toe in his familiar robes, and she looks into his eyes, all that is visible from his attire, “Ready? I have to head back and see if the maps were updated to show the changes... Remember?” Lana pauses, not one to reveal too much about her guild mates. They had a motto, ‘what happens in the guild, stays in the guild’ but she had a feeling that things were going to head south, as soon as they arrived at the museum. “Well… There is another reason, too. I received a letter from Becca, one of the recruiters of the guild, and apparently Riordan isn’t doing too well… He’s our Weapons Expert. And he’s a womanizer, a wife beater, and an alcoholic. I was desperate to fill the position before we head to Twister Island, and Riordan is known for his prowess with a sword and other weapons. Apparently, he struck Becca, and she’s at the healing center in Larket, and she wrote me to leave the guild. I plan on confronting Riordan today, and demoting him from the position.” Lowering her gaze, Elio would see that Lana took this to heart, that she blamed herself for the actions of another, and that she was a little troubled with confronting a man that could easily break her in half, as well as destroy precious artifacts at the museum. Turning away, she leads them outside, locks up the house, and they make their way towards Xalious, though this time they walk, rather than go on horseback. The day is sunny, cool, and Lana inhales the sweet scent of fall, a smile on her face. The brunette looks happy to spend her day with Elio, and the throbbing in her shoulder is at a minimal, and one could see that her bruises were fading. Hopefully, it would be a beautiful day.
Elioyahazer does not know who Becca is, but his features do twitch into something resembling curiosity beneath that veil he wears. Though his damnable eyes, which carry the mark of sectoral heterochromia - brown with near identical spots of blue, do not even portray this emotion. So she had a ruffian to deal with? Not just any buffoon mind you, a womanizer and a drunk. She couldn’t have been that hard pressed to find a weapons expert could she? That was her best option? If something bad were to happen the Sandman would take care of it, for her. After all, he did owe her one. She would be safe beneath his watch, but this time, there would be no distractions. The desert assassin would be ready for anything. “I’m as ready as I will ever be.” He motions to the door with his hand and smiles; which again is useless beneath his current choice of robes. “Do you plan on convincing Becca to stay in the guild after you’ve demoted Riordan?” Perhaps these are official things that shouldn’t be asked, but Lanara is effortlessly becoming someone close to him, and his curiosity had gotten the better of his mind. If she reprimanded him, he would leave the topic alone. However once they are outside, he too begins to enjoy the weather, whilst still eyeing their surroundings. Watching every shadow, each person they pass. He takes it all in - automatically assessing their situation. Calculating the angles any assailant could, would, and might come from. However, these things fade over their walk, and Eli begins to enjoy her company once again. Their food ends up being delicious - and decidedly vegetarian as befits the duo. His wounds only seem to be a dull reminder, presenting little issues in his movement. Eli is happy to have had her healing or he might be in a lot of pain still. For now, he’s content to escort her around, and take pleasure in spending time with her. But eventually all good things must come to an end, and soon the two find themselves before the museum, and the Sandman puts his game face on. What exactly is going to happen in here?
(Post 1 of 2) Lanara happily points out landmarks along the way, and she makes certain to stop and pet every stray dog and cat that crosses their path. She stops at one of her favorite food vendors and the two nibble on vegetable kebobs coated in savory spices, which are meant for dipping in cucumber sauce. Through their entire walk, the witch is all smiles, stealing little glances at Eli when she thinks he isn’t looking, and glancing away when he catches her gaze. The mention of Becca has Lana shaking her head, “I’m not sure what will happen, to be honest. If Riordan handles his demotion, and apologizes to Becca, I hope that will convince her to come back to the guild. However, if Riordan doesn’t take this well, I’ll ask him to leave, and invite Becca to join us again. We’ll see how this all plays out. I really am fond of my recruiter; she’s so bubbly and always willing to go the extra mile.” Entering the lobby of the museum, Lana would greet those that catch her eye, and glance over her shoulder at Eli. “All of the relics you see here? They were retrieved from countless adventures over the span of a thousand lifetimes. See that raptor skeleton? This is the only known place that has the –exact- fossils and structure. Others have replicas…” A pause, “We take pride in our collections. Sometimes it’s merely memories and the thrill of the hunt, other times treasure, and more often than not, gold and friendship. I was chosen to be leader a few months ago, and so far everything is coming along nicely. Oh! There he is! Let’s go look at the maps.” Three of the newest recruits are studying the various relics along the way, and they all give their leader a curt nod, the utmost respect in their expression. The witch may be breathtakingly beautiful, and on the young side for holding such an esteemed title, but one thing is for sure, they all would follow Lana and trust her every judgment. Taking Eli’s hand, she gives it a gentle squeeze as she leads him through the various aisles and exhibits along the way, until she meets with the scholar from the previous morning. Lana studies the map for a few moments, before giving a nod, and offering the boy her best smile, to which he nearly faints, before running off to make a dozen copies. “Perfect! The maps have been corrected.” Peering up at Eli, she winks, “We’re almost done here. Maybe later… We can go pumpkin picking or something. I’m not sure what holidays you celebrate where you’re from, but I’d love to teach you all about Samhain.” A loud belch interrupts their conversation, and Lana turns to see the source, when she sees Riordan with his feet propped up on a case of preciously preserved scrolls, smearing the glass. He’s polishing his various assortment of blades, which are lying across various cases and hiding the relics that earned their place in the museum. “Excuse me, Sandman. I’ll be right back.”
(Post 2 of 2) This confrontation wasn’t going to go as well as she had hoped, she knows, as she closes the distance and rests her hands on her hips, studying the ill-mannered weapons expert. “Riordan… I need to talk to you about something. Becca wrote me a very disturbing letter, and it seems that she rejected your advances and you struck her? She’s at a healing center, threatening to leave the Guild, and I’m sorry, but that just does not fly with me.” The male looks up at Lana, quirks a brow, and gives her a sinister smile, “You jealous, Dollface? You want some of Big Riordan, is that it? Come ‘ere. I don’t play favorites…” He rises to his feet, steadily, and she can tell that he hadn’t been drinking, at least not yet. Wonderful. If he were to strike her, it would be with full force, and being that she was in public, Lana knew better than to resort to her magic abilities. However, she couldn’t let him make advances and disrespect her position in the guild. Why had she told Eli to wait over by the maps?! Feigning a smile, she takes a step back, “Look. I’m not interested. Never have been, and never will be. Same as Becca. Same as –all- the women in this Guild. You need to stay faithful to your wife, stop drinking, and get your act together.” He takes a step nearer to Lana, and quickly coils an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest, where he’d give her a menacing glare and speak through a clenched jaw, “Listen. To. Me.” Having heard enough already, Lana slaps him across the face and tries to free herself of his grasp, but he’s far too strong. “You little bitch!” A crowd is now forming as visitors hear the sounds of a scuffle, and doing the only thing she can, Lana grabs one of the weapons he had been polishing, and she aims to stab the male. Her attempts are futile, as this particular switchblade is unfamiliar, so she awkwardly tries to unsheathe the blade as the male lifts his free hand to take a swing at her flawless face.
(Post 1 of 2) Elioyahazer catches those stray glances his way, and even throws out a few of his own, when she isn’t looking. Though things were rather enjoyable between the two, he knew things would switch to business soon. Regardless, he finds himself in pleasant company; wishing that they had a little more time together. When Lanara answers his question about Becca, he realizes how much of an issue Riordan might actually be. Normally, people such as this man, who drink, abuse and mistreat women rarely listen to the words of a woman. Eli knew this. Once they enter the lobby, the desert man absorbs his surroundings as best he can. It’s vexing to try and learn about so much in as little time as possible. The various artifacts, relics and many more were truly a legacy of a guild that has spent exhausting, untold hours in search for them. The raptor fossil in particular draws a sideways glance and raised eyebrows from beneath the veil of his hat. Interesting, the others were replicas? Finally, he takes one further look around and decides that this would be a thief's dream come true; it must be heavily guarded by something other than those that meander through. When Lanara tugs at his hand, yanking his attention elsewhere momentarily, he finds himself a little surprised by such action, but follows along. It was her show here, and he just merely a guest. When the exchange of words are complete and the maps are correct, he smiles. But pumpkins? “You need pumpkins for Samhain?” However, their discussion is interrupted by a belch, and Eli is dismissed. At least Lanara believes so. When the weapons experts name is revealed the Sandman has already begun to move into action. He isn’t hostile, nay. For instead, he has slipped into the distance, using their discussion as a distraction; vanishing from their sight as any assassin does. The exchange clearly does not go how they had planned, which is alright, for now he stands directly behind Riordan. Even Lanara’s view of her friend might be blocked, due to the obtuse male holding on to her. But the struggle itself is the bowstring of a launched arrow; a signal in essence and Eli moves into action. His own arm interlocks Riordan’s at the elbow - eliminating the punch he intended to throw and saving Lanara. His foot presses all of his weight into the back of the weapon masters knee to toss his balance off. The shift in the offenders weight - and a gasping noise, successfully pries Riordan from Lanara. Elio simply twists and throws Riordan to the floor where he lands flat on his back a few feet from them. “You should stand back Lanara.” His sectoral heterochromia eyes give her a momentary glance. Even without words, he is asking her to trust him.
(Post 2 of 2) Riordan gasps, catching his breath after being slammed into the floor unexpectedly - he finds himself momentarily out of breath, but otherwise unharmed. Whilst on the ground, he checks which weapons he still carries and grins. Finally the weapons master climbs to his feet in a huff. “I don’t know who you are boy, but you’ll have to do better than that.” He flashes Lanara another smile, “Don’t go running on me sweetheart I’ll be with you in a minute.” Riordan is already pulling his blade free, and mentally preparing himself for what is to come next. She wanted to play hard to get? Fine. Have it your way. With a disappointing grunt he leaps into action charging, bridging the minute gap between them. The arming sword he holds is twisted and pulled backwards horizontally to prepare for his soon to be attack. In a heartbeat of time, the distance is closed. The tip of the sword is launched forward to skewer Elioyahazer in his abdomen. Should such a thing occur, the wicked blade would be yanked back out at and upwards angle; intent on splattering the room with a crimson shower of blood and vitae. His tactics are brutal, but he is sure that this whelp stands no chance.
Lanara gave a brief shake of her head when he asked about the pumpkins, noting that they weren’t entirely required for Samhain, however, she was hoping to decorate the hall she had rented for the upcoming ball, and it would be a mini-date, if he was up for such a thing after this confrontation. However, seeing as Riordan is now advancing on her, as she helplessly struggles with the unfamiliar knife, she thinks she’ll be spending her afternoon at the healing center. Or worse, the graveyard. Plus, someone would have to work damage control for the guild, if anything untoward were to happen to their leader. Dark eyes remain focused on the knife in her hand, as she presses each side of the blade, growing more and more frustrated with each passing second. The woman didn’t want to go down without a fight, clearly. At the last second, she looks up, ready for the blow that would likely leave her unconscious, and it’s then that she catches a glimpse of Elioyahazer. The assassin had somehow known she was in trouble. He had arrived in the nick of time, and had saved her from a brutal beating. Lana is so shocked to see her weapon master thrown to the floor that she accidentally unlocks the mechanism that sheathes the blade, and as it comes undone it slices deep into the meaty part of her hand. She gasps, though she doesn’t want the male to see that she had stabbed herself, and she bites back the moan of pain that surges through her palm. Cupping the blade, she meets Eli’s gaze, not wanting him to fight her battles, not wanting to place her trust in a man she’d known for less than three days. Those that knew the witch knew she wasn’t one to lower her walls, yet in this instant, looking into those cerulean mottled eyes, she feels that this is a soul that she can truly count on. Swallowing, she gives a nod and takes several steps back, nearly colliding with two guild mates that had rushed to her side. A tall avian removes his scarf and wraps it around Lana’s wrist, while tossing the dangerous dagger to the floor, and his eyes search the woman’s face, looking for further instructions. “I’m fine. Clear this area of the museum, right away! And have Sienna closely monitor the sandbox area, I don’t want any children seeing this or getting hurt.” Without a further word, he runs off to do as she had bid, though the other member, a lithe archer, crosses his arms and stands silently at Lana’s side. Should Elio not finish this, he’d be sure to step in next and defend the woman he idolized. Meanwhile, the witch is applying pressure to her hand, her eyes darting between the two duelists, as they each show expertise in the dance of death. Both are in excellent form for fighting, both seem skilled with a weapon, and both are fighting in this moment, over the same brunette. As the tip of the sword is brought towards Eli’s abdomen, Lana can’t help it; she screams and clutches the arm of the archer at her side. Her knuckles turn white, the woman pales, and she fears for the life of the man she had only begun to know. “Goddess… Please protect Sandman…” Her voice is but a whisper, and she can’t help but feel guilty for putting him in this situation.
(Post 1 of 2) Elioyahazer, merely eyes Riordan through the slit of his scarf and turban. Watching the man’s reaction. His stance, the way in which he seeks to provoke his enemy with words. This quick assessment discovers that Riordan telegraphs, and a man trained such as this mirage assassin, sees the thrust for what it is. His weight bounces on the ball of his toes, from the left foot to the right; shifting his frame and effectively stepping to the side. To further compound the dodge, his upper body uses the momentum and leans sideways where the blade simply flies past Elio - meeting nothing but the space from where he once stood. The Sandman is unarmored and agile, but not unarmed; Riordan shall have his fight, the assassin’s dance of death begins. While still in his leaning sidestep, a dagger is drawn from a hidden bandolier and thrust mercilessly for Riordan’s ribs. His weight shifts again to follow the attack through and Elio is standing upright. Whether the attack is successful or not, he’s letting the blade go. His left hand pulls forth another dagger and he backpedals to change his tactics in an instant. It’s thrown with precision to Riordan’s chest - seeking to impale the man squarely and render him defeated. But such a man would most likely not meet his end here. Elio takes this moment to gather mana to call upon power which he has not yet used; he is a spell blade with a very unique gift. It’s true that he is still a little tired, a little injured from his previous battle and needed to end this as quickly as possible. An audible crack booms throughout the room while he pulls free his exotic scimitar - the miasma of magic called forth springs to life, making mirrored copies of himself; three of which are illusions. And three of the four give off a slight flicker. Each fans out and begins to circle Riordan with a laugh; like vultures who know a kill is coming. But which is Elio? Would Riordan see through this and realize that Elio is the only one with those terrifying eyes? In combat it’s often hard to examine such small details while they move.
(Post 2 of 2) Riordan finds himself suddenly displeased with his shifty quick footed target and pulls tight his jaw. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he hoped. Where did that damned dagger come from? He panics for a moment, at such a close range the only thing he can do is literally jump backwards to avoid being shanked. Even with all of his effort, it’s not enough to escape certain damage. Riordan is reminded of his own mortality when the dagger pierces his body a few inches and nearly cries out. He had underestimated the guard with Lanara but not again. The dagger thrown at him, collides with his block - a swipe of his sword which sends the item hurling towards the ground. But what he witnesses next confuses him. He had never seen something like this. The single guardian has shifted into a small squad of identical people. How can this be!? There has to be a trick. Without further hesitation, he studies them trying to find which is the correct man. They all look the same - but his concentration bears some small fruits. Three of the four have a slight flicker, so he chooses the one which does not. Riordan takes a deep breath, steps forward and unleashes the mightiest golf swing at his intended target. The effect should cut the man open from hip to shoulder and end this stupid man’s life. He had a woman to get back too.
Lanara feels a panic attack coming on, her grip as strong as ever on the archer’s arm, and though he doesn’t comment on her nails digging into his flesh, one could see that his arm was pale and likely falling asleep from lack of blood flow. He keeps focused on the fight, jaw clenched, and never having been a fan of Riordan, he’s secretly hoping that this new robed fellow kicks his arse. Those that are visiting the museum seem disgruntled, clearly wanting to complete their tour and visit every exhibit. Some are complaining to the docent’s, others are trying to push past the avian who was merely follow Lana’s orders. The roar of the crowd is audible, and it adds to the woman’s anxiety. She had lost Becca, her bubbly recruiter, to the actions of Riordan. The man who had a reputation for hitting women, cheating on his wife, and fathering children all over the realm which he would deny once they were birthed. He was an alcoholic with an attitude, and she should have known better than to allow him into the ranks of the Adventurer’s Guild. One wrong call could end the entire line of quest seekers. Never before, had Lana felt like such an epic failure, and though her jaw quivers, her hands shake, and tears sting her eyes, she refuses to openly cry in public. She had to keep a somewhat calm composure, she had to rise above this and show that she was worthy of her title, and she had to keep a poker face and not betray her true emotions. Deep down she’s riddled with guilt, praying that Eli will come out of this mostly unscathed, and if Riordan couldn’t be spared, so be it. He wasn’t exactly a great loss, and he had caused the guild more trouble than anything. Swallowing hard, Lana’s startled at the loud cracking sound, her eyes widening at what comes next. Four images of Eli appear, almost identical to the male himself, save for glowing on the three of the four forms. Was he some sort of illusionist? Somehow, the use of magic calms Lana, and only now does she loosen her grip on the male at her side, her faith restored. Using her own abilities, she’s almost certain that Eli –is- one of the glowing forms. He was using the non-glowing one as a ruse, to catch his opponent off guard. Though Riordan was impressively strong, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to brains. If he couldn’t use brute force, or a weapon, he chose not to pay attention. Plus, he was a combination of desire and fury, so as he steps forward and unleashes a hellish blow to the sole apparition of Eli that was without the shimmer, he finds that he’s sorely mistaken. Lana gives a faint smile, knowing that he had been outsmarted.
This is the pinnacle of Elioyahazer’s power. The crescendo of his might and he is about to receive exaltation. Riordan has perfectly fallen for his trap and attacked the wrong target. The illusion struck by Riordan vanishes, along with two others. The last is directly behind the weapons master, and already striking with that exotic scimitar. With practiced effort and a step forward, Elio’s sword decapitates the man with a sickening squish of blood and flesh. Riordan’s head is now cleanly flying through the air with a terrified look etched upon its features. A simple kick shoves the headless corpse to the ground. Elio wipes the blood from his blade and sheaths the weapon. He felt no guilt in this kill. The assassin is tired, that’s for sure and drawing deep breaths to oxygenate his blood. His eyes close momentarily, and his hand shifts to his chest. Damn that last attack stirred up his sore ribs. “Are you okay Lanara?”
If the witch was in her Schezerade uniform and had brought pom-poms along, she’d be whooping with delight and cheering for the desert assassin. Eli had used discipline, kept his wits about him, and he was more interested in disabling the man that sought to harm Lanara, rather than play with weapons and react purely on emotion. He was the epitome of badass. He was a force to be reckoned with, and he was much more than a deadly assassin. Eli was a spellblade, of some sort. She hadn’t given his abilities that much thought when she had met him a few days ago and he had used sand and wind magic, but now she’s almost certain that there’s more than meets the eye to this cinnamon-skinned male. The actual Eli steps out, as Riordan delivers the would-be fatal blow to the incorrect vision, and the images vanish in thin air. A few others have joined Lana’s side at this point, a medic that was always on standby, a few other guild members, and the custodian of the museum. It was as if they all knew a death was sure to take place, and they would be at their leader’s side, to help her face the gory aftermath. The squishy sound of Riordan’s head being severed, following by the thump as his head skids across the marble floor like a soccer ball, nearly makes Lana gag, though she holds it together. And then, the body is kicked to the ground, as it falls in a heap, and two men step forward to drag Riordan’s corpse into a cleaning closet. The problem had been dealt with; though they were now short an expert in the weapons department. Everyone falls silent, every eye remains glued to the form of the robed man as he dries the blood from the blade, and only when he breaks the silence do their heads turn to look at Lanara. Feeling every eye on her, the witch clears her throat, and although her voice is filled with emotion, she knows that she needs to continue filling her role. “I’m alright, thanks to you. I can’t thank you enough for stepping in and saving my life. That could have ended much worse.” Her dark hues tell him that she wants nothing more than a moment alone with him, but being that they had an audience and the fact that he just killed a man; she has to attend to her duties. Lana badly wants to run to him and wrap her arms around his form, to know that he’s whole and safe, but instead she points to her office on the other side of the room. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes, okay? I just need a minute. In the meantime, Clara will see to your ribs.” Lana whispers with the nurse, explaining his previous injuries, and the treatment she would most likely recommend, before she accepts hugs and exchanges words with some of the senior members of the guild. Minutes later, a care package has been put together, along with a ‘get well’ card, which all the members had signed, and she instructs one of the new recruits to deliver it to Becca in Larket. The archer and avian that had witnessed most of what had occurred were instructed to pay Riordan’s wife a visit, and Lana can be heard speaking, “We take care of our own, regardless of what happened. Don’t tell her that he was demoted, made a pass at me, and was murdered. Just tell her that he died during an adventure. Also… Tell her to meet with the funeral director. I will have the body delivered there and cover all costs, so that he receives a proper burial. Make sure to spend the day with her and the children. Treat them to dinner, and anything she may need. Take some gold from the treasury. Tell her… That I will be by in the morning to offer my condolences.” That would be difficult. The custodian finishes mopping up the gore and polishing the display cases, and the rear of the museum is once again available to the public, as Lana excuses herself to go into the office and meet with Eli. She gives him a faint smile as their eyes lock, and as Clara leaves, she closes the door behind her and immediately rushes into the assassin’s arms, “Are you really okay?” Burying her face in his robes, she gives him a tight hug, then remembers his injuries, and loosens her grip.
Once Lanara, has answered his question, Eli gives a sigh and a smile. This fight was more taxing than it should have been. When healing services are offered, he finds himself following Clara to another room. It appears that she had received instructions from Lanara about his previous injuries and instead just lets her get to work. It becomes obvious that Clara does know what she is doing, and he gives her a few brief words. “Thank you,” being his chosen few. He isn’t sure when Lana would be joining them, and instead patiently waits for her arrival. He did take execute another within her headquarters before a host of others. He closes his eyes for a moment and realizes he might have caused her more problems. Perhaps Lanara didn’t want Riordan taken out this way? Maybe all the Sandman should have done was knock him out? Well, there’s no going back now. When Lanara enters the room and smiles his thoughts shift from that fight. When did she start getting under his skin? In moments he finds himself wrapped up in her embrace, nearly coughing at such a grip, but returning it all the same. “Lana, I’m okay.” Pain lady. I’m in lots of pain. But her grip loosens and he feels relieved to know that she too, is alright. “I hope I didn’t give you more troubles.” He did just kill a man, within her guild. Honestly he’s surprised to know that more members weren’t ready to stone him. Riordan must have been hated.
The witch doesn’t want to lead back from the embrace, but she knows that she had to remain professional, at least when it came to the presence of her guild and animal sanctuary. Leaning back, she lifts her hand to gently slip the covering from Eli’s face, so that she can see more than just his eyes. “Let me look at you…” Those hypnotic hues drink in his pained smile, his mocha skin, and his mottled gaze, and for a moment she merely stares at the male, scrutinizing his every feature, as though committing it to memory. Eli would most likely think this was the end of the line for their friendship, from the serious look on Lana’s face, and the fact that he just killed a fellow guild mate. Riordan wasn’t ever going to win citizen of the year, or member of the month in any contest, however, it was done in public, and under the gaze of fellow members. Sure, Eli could have broken the man’s arm, or kicked him out of the museum, but no, he had murdered him. He had done this for Lanara. It wasn’t an assignment that he’d get paid for, nor was it done out of jealousy. Eliyohazer had taken Riordan’s life… Because he was growing protective of the witch and didn’t want to see her hurt. By taking his final breath, he also took away any fears that may have surfaced in any woman’s mind about Riordan lurking in the shadows, and he knew that Lana wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder or worry about her friends. The Sandman, a man raised to know discipline and to live a life of solitude, had turned his back on what he knew for the little witch. Her fingers gently graze his jaw line, though Lana squints as her hand makes a fist, the bloody scarf still wrapped tightly around her appendage. Before catering to her own needs, she had made sure that her hero was tended to, a sign that she deeply cares. The door is closed, and they are in no danger of being interrupted, so the man is safe with his face being momentarily uncovered, and she motions for him to take a seat, while she moves behind the desk to take one of her own. “Thank you for saving my life. I don’t know what would have happened, had you not intervened when you did. I’m so appreciative, and I didn’t mention it earlier, but this wasn’t the first time that Riordan had tried to lay his hands on me.” A brief pause, her tone a little stronger than before, “However, you did end the life of a senior member of the Guild, and there were many witnesses. I… I hate to ask, but I’ve seen you in action, Sandman. I’ve seen the way you handle a weapon, and how there isn’t any hesitation when using one, and how you execute the most flawless follow through, before unleashing your attack. You didn’t even blink when you saw the weapon rack in the next room. None of that looked foreign to you, yet I couldn’t even open a switchblade from last century, which was found in Venturil.” Lana gives a half smile, intrigued by the male, and impressed. “Would you be willing to fulfill his place as the Adventurer’s Guild Weapons Expert? You would accompany us on our travels, train the members that need or want to learn the maintenance and use of weaponry, and… We’d be spending a lot of time together.”
The Sandman is about to protest at having his scarf removed from his features - but the look in her eyes and her comment stifles back any paranoia he might have. She seemed rather serious in this, and so, how could he argue. “Alright” he states, giving in without argument. The man’s near mocha skin is readily viewable for her, along with his ivory smile stretched out over flawless features. His multi colored eyes drink Lanara’s serious attitude in and he falls silent. “You’re welcome, Lanara.” So are the other women of the world. “However, Riordan was a problem, but let me be clear. I didn’t murder him. In fact had he not attacked you, I wouldn’t have intervened. If he didn’t attack me after saving you, I wouldn’t have fought with him. It was self defense. On your account and mine. Riordan lost his life today due to his unwavering stubbornness, his greed and cruelty.” It’s true that this little witch was earning a special place in Elio’s mind, but that isn’t the sole reason. If the guild hated him for doing such things, that would be terrible. Riordan could have simply walked away. When he attacked Lanara, Elio stepped in just as he had promised himself. When Riordan decided to just try and turn the desert assassin into a shish-kabob, that’s when things turned deadly. His own life had been threatened. Lanara was already safe and protected by her new found friend. Suddenly this serious topic turns to a job. If Riordan’s death at Elio’s hands is such a big deal, why is she asking him to become this new weapons expert? He didn’t really understand it all. However he’s relieved to know that he’s not being scolded over it. Spending more time with her, might be nice. His face turns away - his mind deep in thought. Performing the mental math over what she had presented him with. “You want me to become your weapons expert?” How odd. Sure Elioyahazer understands many weapons on a basic level. As an assassin, you have to be prepared to fight against an entire host of weapons. You need to have some fundamental basics of their strengths and weakness. Of course, his knowledge might not be practical like a knights or a warriors, but he can get the basics. If he accepts the position, he would also have to train others who sought his advice. “Well..” He pauses for a moment to think over his words, while his sights move back to Lanara. “I’d be responsible for keeping weapons, helping with missions and training?” Perhaps this is the reason for why he left the deserts. Though he is surprised that Lanara has not asked about his use of magic; and how different it seemed from their first meeting. Which at first glance might be, but both uses were of illusion. Nothing more, nothing less. Elio’s unique gift does not fall in shadows. His ability can turn him into a mirage, like what happens naturally within the depths of the desert. Perhaps there were more duties, but if it meant his skills were needed, “I accept.” Elioyahazer has found work.