RP:The Whispering

From HollowWiki

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.


Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc


Part of the Magic, Madness, and Mayhem Arc


Part of the Seven Dwarves All Around Me Arc


Summary: With their alchemical brew at the ready, Rogue Recruits Lanara and Arlyeon set out to poison, not just one, not just two, but seven whole (half) men. And when all seems like it's going according to plan, two new names are added to the nonexistent roster of the prestigious guild of shadows. Pay no attention to all the portents in the background. Everything's fine!


Large Inn, Cenril

Eleanor had spent much of the week scoping out the large inn of Cenril. Although more than familiar with the establishment, the rogue leader wanted to be specially prepared for what would transpire here tonight. Garbed not in her shadow-laced disguise, but instead, a simple forest green velvet dress hugged her curves, long sleeves covered up any tattoos, and the woman's usual blonde braids instead had been colored a deep burgundy, the curls twisted into a neat bun. Even her eyes were not their usual sea glass and had instead been changed into a warm honeyed amber that observed anyone coming or going from the inn through simple, framed spectacles. To complete her disguise, she had abandoned her iron diadem for the evening, the careful application of makeup and magic shimmering faintly on her brow in the turquoise gem's stead. The inn itself was abuzz with laughter and merriment as the end of the year crept closer, but the entourage the client had indicated had yet to arrive. As she waited for the others to arrive, she began nudging at the dirt with the toe of her silver heels, the symbols for 'time' and 'fortune' etched into the ground.


Lanara had gotten word on where they were to meet and what time, and so she had swiftly prepared a glamour potion to disguise herself as she didn’t have a fancy cloak like Meri or Callum. Tonight Lanara is a blue-eyed beauty, with porcelain skin, and a platinum blonde pixie. She seems to have gone a little heavy on the makeup with silver eye-shadow and crimson painted lips, the exact opposite of how her true self would appear. The witch saunters into the area with a purpose, clad in a crimson corset, push-up bra, and black leather pants, her black heels making slight indentations in the dirt. She had borrowed some herbs from Callum’s greenhouse, after a little scavenger hunt that the couple had planned, which involved quite a bit of searching and some lock picking. Next, she used the Catalian’s alchemy set to brew the poison, and she was ready to roll. Walking along with a sway in her step, Lana glances down at the dirt before lifting her gaze to Eleanor, a quizzical look in her expression. Was this Fox? Arlyeon? Another hired hand for this task that she hadn’t met just yet? She remains silent, but the symbols of time and fortune in the ground are an indicator that she was in on this scheme.


Arlyeon, beyond the small bit of prepwork in acquiring the seasoning for today's meal, had also taken her due diligence to scope out the bar on her own time, albeit in a more clandestine manner than her normal mean. That said, whilst the foxkin is oldhat at scoping out escape routes, her goal this time around had been to discern who was supposed to be on staff for the barmaids today- and to arrange for one to come down with an abrupt case of 'iron-wrought-lantern-to-the-back-of-the-head-itis'. Such goings on are unfortunate, especially when they precipitate chronic onsets of 'Stuffed In A Barrel' Syndrome. But Ina is a generous soul (or, she's at least telling herself this while helping herself to the unfortunate barmaids work outfit and coin purse- because despite her current predicament, she's not going to have to take a sick day. And that's because Ina's going to go to work for her. "Gotta do somethin' bout this pretty face-a mine, though. Lesse, lesse." She hums, she haws, but bit by bit- that natural affinity for illusions is put to work on changing her features. It clicks together nicely enough- short dirty blonde hair, with a bit of frizz that hinted at weeks of unending stress, dark brown eyes, and tanned skin which had still not faded in the winter. Once Ina's satisfied with herself, she even helpfully tosses a potato sack over the top of the barrel, to at once hide the sight of her deed, but also to provide her unfortunate victim with some emergency clothes. (See! Such a generous soul.) Mind you, this does result in Ina arriving a little bit late, specially since she's once again nicked garments that are a little bit too large for her. "...Uh. Seasonal...mouse flu. Loss a half a foot. Ch'yeah."Really, she looks poised to shuffle and bustle her way straight into the tavern, were it not for the familiar scents of the pair out front, which has her doing her best to straighten out- though she manages to catch herself mid salute, instead stuffing her hands into the pockets of the faded blue kitchen apron she's wearing. "It's aaaaaawful cold out here, shouldn't you two be inside, n' all?" Something beneath the skirt of that apron swishes, maybe.


Meri was present, but much like the last time she was not really keen on making herself known. The shadows were her disguise once again tonight, except this time she has come prepared enough that Arlyeon won't be about to suss her out by scent. The details of how she managed to mask her scent are completely moot right now, she's disguised and one would not be able to see the trinket she has acquired anyway! As much as Meri loves her gold, she was not here for the pay cut tonight. She was just backup, if things got too ugly. An extra set of eyes, ears, and capable fists. Tonight was Lanara and Aryleon's chance to prove themselves to the Fox. The Inn was not silent tonight, which was not a detail that bothered Meri at all. Some might be concerned that the numerous faces might make it more challenging to keep cover, but Meri was confident that she would be able to manage. The only person who might presently have some awareness that Meri was indeed in the room would be Eleanor herself. Much like the rest of the group, the shadowed woman has taken the time to do her own prepwork....but since her role in this was more minute, she was more concerned with escape routes. Just in case.


Eleanor slanted her amber gaze toward Lanara as the familiar witch approached in her unfamiliar guise; the spell-rogue's nostrils flared subtly, and her full lips curled into a coy smile. "Good evening," she murmured, her speech careful and absent her usual brogue. She let her attention stumble appreciatively over the witch before her eyes shifted toward the barmaid. Lifting her chin and looking down through her spectacles at the foxkin, El struggled not to smirk. "Cold, yes, thank you kindly," she managed with only a slight draw to her tongue. Lowering her chin now in a nod first toward Ina and then Lanara, El found herself looking past the witch's shoulder, toward the shadows; another nod pulled at her chin, although there didn't appear to be anyone to reply. Straightening away from the outer wall, she made a show of rubbing her upper arms for warmth, when in fact she was activating the spells inked to her hidden skin as she moved toward the inn's threshold. (1 of 2)

Eleanor's vision flared with blue and green as the presence of protective wards around the inn were revealed to her, but she left them be, turning her attention instead toward the street as a large black carriage rolled up, and a group of rowdy dwarves in green and blue livery stumbled out from within and into the street. "Hoorah!" one of them shouted, and the rest sang up in unison, "Another beer for Vejemir!" The first dwarf noticed the women standing outside the inn just then, and took a jolting lead in the foxkin-barmaid's direction. "Another beer for Vejemir!" he declared, and again the group echoed in gleeful chorus. Clearly, the group had been pregaming on the ride over, and they passed around a nearly-empty flask between them. (2 of 2)


Lanara looks mildly annoyed when the third arrives at their destination, donning a barmaid’s attire, and she gives an impatient shake of her head. “Do you think that’s wise?” They had to blend in, not stand out… And surely the barkeep would know exactly who he had employed and their mannerisms, right? Clearly, this was either going to work in their favor or inch their endeavors into the crapper. Either way, Lanara glances over her shoulder every so often, to ensure that she wasn’t followed. Even if she were followed by Tiber, a stalker, someone that had suspicions, it wouldn’t do them any good, as she had sipped her glamour potion twenty minutes before nearing her location. She only had about two hours before it would wear off, so she looks to Fox, hoping they could get this show on the road. Time was of the essence, and Lanara knew that time meant gold, as well as a particularly dead dwarf. She has no worries regarding the poison, as she had procured the deadliest variety of nightshade, and it was undetectable by scent or taste. “Evening.” She replies to Fox, a knowing grin arching her lips into a silken smile, as the trio heads towards the front of the tavern. Lanara rubs her bare arms as well, even though she didn’t feel the chill in the air as the fox did; running on adrenaline kept her warm enough. As the dwarves pull up in their carriage she turns to face them and winks at the one that approaches the ‘barmaid’ and asks for some ale, “Don’t tell me you handsome boys are going to drink all by yourselves? Looking for some company?” This was going to be the easiest task she’s ever completed, she thinks, as she strolls over towards the repulsive midget and plays coy, “My date didn’t show up… His loss? Your gain? I prefer someone that knows how to party…” Bending so that they are eye level, Lana winks again as her gaze trails to the nearly empty flask, “Get these gentlemen a pitcher of ale!” As she’s speaking, she makes certain that the dwarf nearest her is getting an eyeful of her cleavage, before she ever so slowly rises and motions for Fox to join their little party.


Arlyeon gets a queer sense of something, like being observed by a predator unseen, and which the shift of her whiskers seems to- oh. Right. Without even wasting a moment, those residual vulpine features wink out, the accompanying thought forgotten along with her worries. Which leaves her free to lean forward towards Lanara and offer a cheeky lil grin, "I think it's -fun-." And really, if Ina had been concerned about blending in a bar full of dwarves, she'd have grown a beard. Still, she does take a moment to straighten herself out a little more, especially as the dwarves come closer- her cheeks puffing out as she tries to suppress her more impish nature, and instead hit something more along the lines of a hospitable, but seemingly demure smile, " I'll let 'em know another beer for Vejemir. 'n a pitcher of Ale~" Inwardly, she's grateful for the direction, if only because it means she can immediately get to work. And thankfully, an assortment of odd jobs in the past means she doesn't really need any prompting to immediately set herself to working on collecting empty or knocked over glasses as she makes her way towards the bar- relying on the familiarity with the motions that whilst something might not sit right at a casual glance, the fact that she's an imposter might not hit them yet. It also provides an excellent reason for her only briefly stopping bar at the bar to offer up the dwarven companies order. "A Pitcher of Ale, and a beer for the dwarves table." And then she's bustling again before she can be questioned, trying her best to look busy, and maybe looking for the ideal opportunity to introduce her particular party favors to the mix.


Meri :: The most ideal situation is that Meri does not have to take any sort of action tonight at all, that Lanara and Arlyeon would manage to pull this job off beautifully tonight for Eleanor. It seemed like the pieces were coming together nicely, the trio were settling into the roles they have chosen for themselves. There is enough clammer in the bar that is bit overwhelming for the werewolf. Sure, she has been a wolf for over a year now, but that does not mean she is fully adjusted to all of the subtleties of it. The blonde tries to focus her attention mostly on the trio and the group of dwarves that was to be their target for the night, trying to hone in on their conversation and block out the clammer of some of the more trivial chatter around her. The couples on vacation, for example. It was a task that was easier said that done given how busy it was, but Meri was managing, watching, and waiting. Meri was more than happy to be a fly on the wall, but she'd take action if needed...just so the trio could escape...but so far it seemed like...mostly smooth sailing. They've managed to infiltrate the table, beer was about to be served...so long as Ina did not get spoked over being watched by a werewolf? Or maybe busted for not being an employee? Or maybe Lanara's glamor spell wears off? Basically, Meri is going to sit here trying to push all the 'what if's to the back of her mind...and focus on watching everything unfold from the shadows.


Eleanor fluttered her fringe of dark lashes, happy to seem like just another simpering yule exploiter as she watched Lanara and Ina take off in their roles. Joining the former in luring the somewhat-sloshed entourage across the threshold and into the inn proper, she lingered at the door, however, and planted a palm flat against the jamb as if to use it for support as she passed. In her wake, a pinprick of a mark was left in the wood, its magic weaving through the grain, and the inn's dwarven patrons might find themselves disinclined to leave. Anyone who made their way toward the exit was suddenly overcome with a need to pee, and instead turned to stumble toward the restrooms. At least one poor fellow was stuck in some kind of feedback loop between the bathroom and the exit, and he hadn't even arrived with the delegate.

Meanwhile, El adjusted her spectacles and fixed her ambery stare upon the nearest dwarf, taking a cue from the witch and granting the lilliput an eyeful as she verbally assaulted him with inane questions such as "Do you come here often?" and "What's your sign?" Not that the dwarves really cared, they seemed to eat it all up - and speaking of food, El kept darting glances around the room toward the busy barmaid. Eventually, she managed to peel herself away from the table, leaving the dwarves in Lanara's more than capable hands as she sneaked into the back of the inn's main room, disappearing from sight. The dwarves insisted on taking turns sitting next to Lana, each seemingly infatuated with the witch, although it was Vejemir who took up much of the so-called hot seat, stammering out awkward dwarven prose in a feeble attempt to woo the seductress. All the while, none of them seemed to touch the beer that was brought to the table and continued to pass around their flask.


Lanara slinks into the tavern and lowers her shoulders, seemingly relaxed, despite the fact that she had a vial of poison embedded in the pocket of her skin tight pants. If anyone were suspicious of the tiny ridge, they’d likely think it was a tube of lipstick for those heavily painted lips. As Ina whisks off to get the ale, Lana is eager to take it to the dance floor, because that would be the –best- place to get close to her target. Do a little dance, make a little Molotov cocktail, get dead tonight, Dwarf?! Being an exotic dancer in the past would do wonders for this party, as they would be so focused on the way her body moves, that they wouldn’t be privy to a little liquid being slipped into one specific dwarf’s ale. The witch is mentally cringing at what she needs to do to complete this mission, but she was desperate for gold, and she only about ninety minutes before her glamour potion faded. It was go time, and it wasn’t like she was into any of these men, plus Tiber hadn’t pushed for a relationship title. Thankfully the band kicks up with a provocative beat and the bard’s sultry voice adds to the oversexed ambience that Lanara is trying to work in their favor. Hopefully Fox had successfully warded the place and Ina was doing her part, as the witch practically has the dwarves eating out of her palm. They are taking seats at her side, but it’s their target Vejemir that seems smitten, “Vejemir…. Mind pouring me a glass of ale? I’m –really- thirsty…” Fanning herself so that her cleavage is at the right angle, she watches as the dwarf pours the ale, and takes a long pull from the glass. She makes sure to leave it half full, as she slams it down on the table behind Vejemir, before she slowly rises to her feet. “I love this song!” The witch knows exactly what she’s doing as she swivels her hips and cranes her neck from side to side, knowing their eyes were glued to her midsection as she slowly rolls her back and stomach muscles until she reaches the floor, only to bring herself into an upright position again. Lanara hopes that Ina and Fox were distracting the others, as she literally straddles Vejemir on the chair and gives the dwarf a little lap dance. “Get me something harder to drink…” She commands his buddies, before she wiggles her upper form literally in Vejemir’s face, while tipping the vial into the half full glass of ale. The song ends, the witch plucks the glass from the table and presses the lipstick smeared mark to the dwarf’s lips, “Show me how thirsty I make you, and you just may get a second dance…” If Lanara knew that her best friend, Meri, was hidden in the shadows she would be mortified.


Arlyeon is in the process of stacking some empty plates and glasses, as she winds her way back to the dwarves table- but the array of dishes she's supporting briefly makes like the tower of Pisa and begins to lean, hard, as she gawks at Lanara. The clatter and abrupt shift in her own weight grounds her back into the present, forcing her into taking a few stumbling steps back and forth to get the pile back under control, before she can finish stepping over to the dwarven party table, "Can I get ya folks anythin' else? a second pitcher maybe, or some grub ta' go with dinner n' a show?" For just a moment, a hint of that mischievous smile creeps onto her lips, before she once more adopts that genial smile from before. "Iffun the ale's not to your liking- there -is- a rather fine dwarven mead that's kept on tap. . .?" Internally, the foxkin is also doing her best not to let her smile falter, either, as her continued side-eyeing of Lanara has Ina coming to the dread conclusion that had she given into the impulse to mess with the first batch of booze, there would have been messy explanations to make later. In any case, Ina's silently praying that this bit of bait might actually hit home, because if it doesn't- well, Plan B is filed as something she'd have rather subjected someone else to do. Like, anyone else.


Meri was momentarily distracted by the poor chump who is stuck in this weird loop between bathroom and exit. Meri, not really being sensitive to too many things of a magical nature, has not in this moment pieced together that Eleanor might be behind this individual's bladder problem. She might make this realization if too many others end up joining him in this terrible hell of really needing to pee. The shadowy woman's attention does not linger on the bloc for long. Things are happening. Lanara is trying to distract the dwarves with some dancing. Ina is also doing everything that she can to get close enough to the target to complete their task...but the challenge is that none of them seem to be drinking or eating any of the Inn's food? How rude. It was proving to make things all the more comical though. Don't worry Lanara, Meri is very good at secrets. She won't tell Tiber about this moment. What's a bit of dancing when death is on the agenda anyway? Despite all shenanigans, the werewolf manages to keep herself mostly stoic. Her position in the room is kept close enough to the main group that she can see what is going on, or even slide in for the assist if need be...but far enough away that she is still able to stay hidden from view.


Eleanor ;; Vejemir was starting to think this was the best day of his life. Not just an hour before, he'd managed to enter into a contract with a company he'd been trying to get in with for several years, and now here he was, dancing the night away with the hottest blonde in Cenril! Cheeks ruddy with drink and courage, he bolstered up the nerve to sneak a few lascivious gropes in, hoping to get a handful without getting an earful when the tables were turned, so to speak, and once more Lanara takes the lead. "Yesh, yesh, of course, of course!" he stammered, smacking his lips and searching around for a glass, a stein, anything to keep the femme fatale fixed on him. Ina's approach is all too opportune, and Vejemir is rubbing his cheeks and tugging at his wiry brown beard. "Yesh," he slurred, "besht mead ye've got!" But no sooner had he managed to get that out than is Lanara practically feeding him her own drink and he's slurping it down like his life depends on it! The bubbly hit the tummy in all the right ways, and he let out an inexcusably loud burp. The kind of burp where you see their lips wagging like a cartoon character. It carried with it rancid undertones, almost as if the dwarf was rotting from the inside out ... Shame immediately floods Vejemir's already rosy cheeks, and he scrambled to his feet, brushing off imaginary crumbs from his livery. Shouldering roughly past, he made a sudden beeline for the bathroom!


Lanara looks as though she may vomit when the disgusting dwarf belches into her bosom, so she’s quick to turn away and catch her breath. At least he had downed the poisoned liquid and her part of this was mostly over, right? Fox said something about making sure the male was –alone- when he perishes, so the witch gives a saucy smile to Vejemir’s buddies and teases, “Eeenie, meanie, miny, moe… Which one of you wants me to warm their lap, next?” As Ina is passing around plates and delivering the finest mead in the establishment, she gives her a curt nod. The ‘barmaid’ would know what it means, she hopes, as they were in this together. Meri and Fox aren’t anywhere to be seen at this point, so Lana makes a show of running her hands through her short blonde locks, pursing her lush lips, and taking turns dancing with each of the half-men to their heart's content. The groping is annoying, but it was going to pay for Yule gifts for her friends and family, plus maybe Fox would give her a place amongst their ranks. The music continues, none of the dwarves seem able to leave the establishment, and one poor sod seems to have urinated in his trousers. All in all, it was an oddly excitable evening, but things were going as planned!


Arlyeon feels a tangible sense of relief when her suspicion hits home, and they accept her suggestion for getting a taste of something homely. Though, to be fair- they seemed more interested in getting a bit of their comely company. In any case, Ina offers up a chipper affirmation, "Onnit, folks." and begins to bustle her way over to the bar. And it's business as usual when she makes the order for a pitcher of dwarven mead. As she waits for it to arrive, she casually grabs a tray and begins to arrange a set of glasses along it's circumference. Really, it looks pretty good at a glance- all synchronous and "-'Beth. Elizabeth. Liz!" The sharpness on the last intonation and it's proximity fiinally drives home the recollection that's who she's supposed to be right now, and she provides a suitably genuine bewildered smile to the barkeep, whose in the process of placing down the pitcher. "You alright? You seem . . .-" There's a lot of thing's Ina as Elizabeth seems, but right now alarmed is what the foxkin is currently identifying as. Still, she does her best to assume a slightly croakir squeak of a voice, "Just, stressed?" Before she can be grilled further, she rather abruptly finds herself adding, "Sorry, and I forgot. They ordered a rack of mutton, too. Two racks, sorry. " That admission earns another squint that lingers, but ultimately the keep turns to work on that order. Which will also hopefully keep him out of Ina's hair. Falling back into sync with her role, the foxkin straightens herself out, and carefully settles the pitcher into the midst of the array of glasses, only briefly sloshing it as she tries to find just the right way to balance it in the midst of her display. And definitely not because she also happened to use the sleight of hand she's practiced in card sharking to sneak the vial of Quintessa's concoction into her sleeve and then surreptitiously both add and mix it into the Ale. And letting that settle a little into all that booze is definitely not way she takes the long way around the room as she returns to the dwarves table. It's just to give Lanara and the seven dwarves privacy as they take turns being Dopey. With a cheerful little whistle she moves to settle the whole of it into the center of the table, "A taste of home for you folks." Though she does take care to give a glance over towards her current partner in crime to add, "May be a lil strong fer ya, though. N' I'm not sure ~You'd~ be wantin' some hair on ya chest." Or those more notable side effects. What was it? Hallucinations, loss of sensation, paralysis, fever, Jaundi-whatsit, maybe some loosened bowels like originally planned. Good fun for the whole family, in any case- and there's even some drowsiness backed into it. ...Yeah, Ina's gonna start looking for that exit now. Like a back window, maybe.


Meri :: The dwarf was making his way to the bathroom shortly after drinking the ale that Lanara practically forced down his throat. As far as Meri was concerned, this would be an opportune time to leave? They did not want the other dwarves to discover their friend in some questionable state in the bathroom. Yet, leaving does not seem to be on Lanara's agenda. She was still dancing with the dwarves? WHY? It's at this moment that Meri becomes convinced that Lanara must have some weird dwarf kink. Look, I know everyone says 'don't judge'....but as has been explained, some kinks are just too much. This is just TOO MUCH, Lanara. It may not be clear when Meri arrived, but as she is currently managing to maintain her hiding spot, she is situated to be the last to leave...If only they would start leaving. Especially after that little interaction that 'Liz' has with one of the other workers at the Inn. Did she seem alright? Oh boi. If Ina makes it out a back window, that just fine. Meri is really here to make sure that the team gets out unscathed, just the backup.


Fox still did not make herself known to the patrons in the main room, although the honey-amber eyes in at least one of the portraits hanging on the wall seemed to follow Vejemir toward the bathrooms. One of the nearest guests to said painting, a broad-shouldered human soldier in his civies albeit with a simple rapier hanging from his narrow hips, swung a wide stare at the painting, swearing to his mates that he'd just seen the thing move! Immediately he declared there was something wrong with their food and started shouting barmaid! Barmaid! Where's your manager! It was a very-Karen way of approaching things, but as it would seem, it was meant to draw said manager away from Ina and to belay the order of mutton. Sure, Fox could interfere a /little/ bit, right? No harm, no foul--

Vejemir slammed face-first into the support beam between the bathroom doors, which designated Small and Medium humanoids, and he cried out in startled agony. Blood was smeared across the wall, and the dwarf stumbled backward. Another cry escaped his cracked lips, but this time he was clutching his stomach, and his features were twisting in pain. The soldier's increasingly impatient complaints about the service would occupy the keep and at least some of the patrons who weren't falling over themselves to earn a prestigious spot on Lana's dance card. Meanwhile, the "fake" eyes of the portrait resumed their normal unsettlingly blank stare ahead, and Vejemir was beet red as he stumbled toward the appropriate stall, posthaste. Hopefully, he'd be able to make it inside before Vejemir became Vesuvius. With kith and kin being whipsawed by vulpine and voluptuous femme fatales alike, the shadows of the room started to stretch and writhe. Candles and chandeliers churned out unsettled shapes as they do when drinking to the dregs a delirium-inducing concoction.

Ina and Lanara still had a narrow window of time to escape the scene unscathed. Barring an acrobatic retreat through a physical one too, there was the busy kitchen and at least one back entrance to avoid running into any real soldiers who undoubtedly were getting some strange reports from the non-dwarves who had made it out as things were getting too weird and the keep seemed a bit up to his eyeballs in it.


Lanara is still dancing because she had somehow gotten confused and thought that this was a two-person job! Ina poisons the food and prepares to head back towards the kitchen, likely looking for the nearest window, instead of notifying her 'partner' that they were in the clear. Painted lips form a scowl as she runs her fingers through her faux blonde locks and thinks of how to best exit the scene. Don't draw too much attention to oneself and act as though nothing is amiss, she thinks, the mantra replaying in her mind. A few men are pointing at a painting on the wall, and it seems as though the poison is already working! The glamour potion is slowly fading, so Lana slides from the repulsive man's lap, and gives him a saucy smile. "Wanna head back to my place? Let's sneak out the back! It will be our little secret!" He caves, almost instantly, though he is trying to hide his obvious discomfort and keeps clutching his aching belly. Taking his hand, Lana pretends that it's the dwarf's idea, and has him leading the way to the rear of the building. Vejemir is far from the half man's mind as the blonde promised him a night of sweet sinning, so they swiftly make their escape from prying eyes. If the others ratted, he could just say they must have imagined the whole thing, as he wouldn't steal his best friend's girl! Lanara pauses and tugs the dwarf's hand as the door is a mere three feet away, "Wait! I forgot my purse back at the table. Would you mind running back and grabbing it for me? These heels are killing my feet!" She's playing the role to perfection as she bites her lower lip and glances down, as though she were oh so sorry for the inconvenience. If Fox and Meri were watching, they would think Lana was enjoying this little scheme! She's a natural at this, a good girl that had went undeniably bad over the years, and she's owning this role. Ina isn't anywhere in sight, so Lana eagerly slips out of the tavern the second the dwarf heads back to do her bidding. The witch sprints across the street and lurks in the shadows to receive her payment and possibly an offer to join Fox's ranks.


Arlyeon has a fondness for windows, and other less obvious spaces, if only because they're such a convenient escape- often being less guarded by virtue of it being a far narrower enclosure, as well as the inconvenience of clambering (and falling). In this particular instance, the foxkin's feeling fairly confident, if only because her earlier bit of due diligence has meant that her vanishing for a brief break really isn't that notable. Hell, were it not for the fact that Elizabeth was likely going to be out of a job after this drastic bout of food poisoning, it could have been considered a more-than-adequate exercise in being legitimate. Alas, alack, and other meaningly murmurings of sympathy- because Ina's busy pushing the window open, and then launching herself straight through. Or trying, really. Skirts, especially ones as frumpy and loose on her as they are, probably aren't meant to be crammed wholesale like this one has been- which leaves Ina somewhat wedged in place, her arms folded over her chest as gravity slowly begins to tug her down towards the ground. "..Cripes." She wastes a moment wiggling her feet, before finally giving into operation 'Better Luck Next Time, Barmaid.' Which is to say, Ina's human features rather abruptly melt away, along with her size. Suffice to say, as the foxkin turns fully vulpine- the dress no longer provides much in the way of an obstacle, save that she ends up burst out from one of its sleeves instead of the collar. Sure, there's some incriminating evidence left in the window sill- but the blame isn't Ina's to bear. Suffice to say, this fox (lowercase) exits stage left- though she is apt to end up being fashionably late so she can put on a new false face, and retrieve a stash of clothes from her room at the inn.


If Meri felt so inclined, she probably could have held her position for a considerable length longer. Her window of escape was not as narrow as the one for Lanara and Ina, but she sees no reason to remain in the Inn while everyone else is departing. There are two recruits that Meri could possibly try and tail, but as far as Meri can tell? Ina probably has already gotten an advanced lead on her escape, though Meri can only base this clue on the fact that the foxkin does not seem to be present anymore. This leaves Lanara to trail after...and Meri was starting to wonder how the witch was going to pull off a smooth escape. First there was the lap dance, for ALL of the dwarves, and not she is inviting one of them to follow her? If Meri did not know Lanara better, she'd think the witch has lost her mind...but she has more faith in than this. It eventually becomes clear how Lanara plans to ditch the already excited dwarf. Shorty goes back in for her purse. Lanara makes her escape by sprinting down the street so that she can take her own turn in lurking in the shadows. Meri would follow. She'd announce her presence by placing a shadowed hand on Lanara's shoulder, "All of them?" Meri teases in a whispered voice. Meri is far less inclined to remain on the streets so near the Inn. Shadows or not, the blonde would not mind putting more distance between herself and the scene of the crime. "Wouldn't go lingering here for too much longer..." The sound of Meri's voice was not as close to Lanara as it was before. If Fox and Ina did not make an appearance soon, then Meri would likely be trying to lead Lanara to another meeting spot, specifically the location where the witch first took on this job.


Eleanor materialized in the shadows beside where Lanara and Inks shared whispered words. Darkness peeled away from her to reveal the guise of the unnamed redhead still cloaking her identity, but the guild pendant would still identify her even if Meri were not already familiar with this look. Her silken voice purred out a coy, "See, that wasn't quite so difficult, was it?" to Lanara, but noted the absence of Ina. Hopefully, the hard part of their job was over. They could reconvene, gods-willing Ina could find her way back to them. All that was left was to meet the client and redeem their reward. Then they'd all be a bit richer.

The sky seemed to split open as an arc of lightning streaked down from dark clouds, its thunderous reply rippling across the streets, windows trembling in their frames. El, Fox, glanced up at the foreboding night sky, and for a moment, there was a sharp recognition in her features and just a bit of real concern. She dismissed it with a shake of her head, casting aside whatever frown started to form. "Sounds like rain. Should get you dears out of the cold." Taking a step back, and up onto a stoop as if to avoid the first spatterings of heavy raindrops, she stood in the darkened doorway to some shop. "Shall we?"

Her left hand twisted the knob, her palm briefly glowing with a circular blue design as she activated the portal magic inscribed therein. Rather than whatever building normally stood here, El swung the door open directly into the Crow's Nest. The familiar table sat in the middle, surrounded by a dozen chairs, and the golem stood motionless on its dais, welcoming them home.


The look on Lanara’s faux-face as Meri makes her appearance known is truly priceless, as those eyebrows arch, cheeks turn a vivid shade of red, and her lips part in a moment of awe and horror. How had the psion gone undetected this –entire- scheme? And HOW much interaction had she witnessed between Lanara and the seven dwarves?! Meri would –never- let the witch live this down, and she would likely run home and fill Callum in on every last disgusting detail! It’s worsened by the fact that Cal is a fellow witch and that he happens to be Lana’s new employer, as she’s going to be working in his greenhouse! With a groan, she manages to squeak out, “I thought I had to keep them entertained while the other one went into the bathroom to die! I couldn’t just drop the act as soon as the deed was done, or it may have aroused suspicion!” She aroused much more than suspicion, however, and part of her reason was so that Ina could do her half of the job and go undetected, too! Plus, Lanara had somehow gotten her wires crossed and thought they were working as a ‘team’ as she didn’t fully understand the terminology of the word ‘rogue’ much to her dismay! Either way, now that the job was done and her glamour potion was wearing off, Lana obediently follows Meri and Fox into the random store, which transforms into their ‘safe’ place. Was the flash of lightning a bad omen of things to come?! Forcing the foreshadowing from her mind, Lana is relieved to see her usual reflection in the mirror, and she finger-combs her chestnut locks and waits for Ina to join them. Plopping onto a chair, she crosses her legs and fixes the three women with a bemused expression, “That went well! Right? I don’t think they will link –anything- to us, especially since we were all disguised so well!”


Ina, for her part, is busy playing fashionista in her hotel room while her colleagues are busy extricating themselves from the area, and enjoying dramatic and altogether ominous omens. ...Wait. Would all omens be ominous? Isn't it part of the... "Hmm. Mmm. HMMM." That last one is more a reflection of the fact that the corset she was in the process of putting on has a few too many laces to do up. For a brief moment, she flounders at getting it done, before she hucks it off to the side and decides to go the other route. Which is to say- she dons the white kosode and red Hakama she'd sported for the halloween ball. Personally, she finds it to be a great gag, and that sort of standing out as a recognizeable oddity helps- hiding in plain sight, and all that. Though, the fact that she does start to tweak her features along the journey to the rogues guild does help. And without a magical shortcut to benefit from, this leaves Ina ample time to tweak a few aspects of her appearance along the wall, such as the spontaneous development of long white hair, and the overall darkening of her skin tone. Really, it's probably a good thing Meri's a lycan, given that when Ina does bustle into the Rogues Den- she's changed nearly everything save her scent, and the luminescent quality of her eyes (though they now shine a darker shade of green). Even the quality of her voice seems to have changed slightly, even if the overall inane content of her speech remains intact, "Heyyyy Ladys and ... ladies. Have you heard? Have you heard~? Gettin' the mutton might notta been the greatest of ideas at that inn." Or at least, that was probably what the official statement was going to be. Really, the foxkin is just -dying- to read the paper in the upcoming days.


The mission was a success and everyone was in high spirits about it -- well except maybe Lanara who is having a small freakout once she realizes her good friend Meri is there. The escape seems to be going smoothly, and everyone seems to be content to head back to the Crow's Nest via a portal opened by Eleanor....Meri does not. She stops just before, "Well congrats on not screwing this up...But I am afraid this is where I am going to part ways with you tonight. I don't think you guys need me for what discussions might be taking place next." Sure, she understood that she was welcome and maybe some extra bonding time with the potential new guild members would be good. But...! That is not on Meri's agenda for the night. "I will see you all around." Presumably, at least.


The Crow's Nest

El's current honey-gold eyes slanted askew toward Meri before the redhead-for-now dipped her chin in a nod to the other, lips twisting into a knowing smirk. "Aye." Leaving her friend and unofficial-second to her own devices, the leader of the rogues moved further into the guild's meeting hall. As she did so, her own glamor seemed to slip off her with each step until what was left was a writhing figure of shadow and darkness; and even that began to peel back, just a little bit, here and there, to reveal a figure decidedly feminine amidst the swirling mass. Meanwhile, Fox had moved toward the dais, taking up a position just in front of and to the right of her golem. Behind its master, the dummy remained quiet, watchful even with its dull eyes.

Fox was now casting pale celadon eyes back and forth between the pair of potential, and it was taking a great deal of self-control on her part not to grin wickedly with the laughter she'd had to smother this whole time. It was a long moment before she found her voice, and as it carried itself around the room - just like it had during their initial meeting - there was a quaver that could only be mistaken for such a mirthful rumbling as she still struggled to subdue. "Weel …" Cue another heartbeat of El's UNWAVERING self-control right now. It was a good thing her shadow-laced disguise was working overtime to further obscure her visage.

" 'at was …" The woman drew in a sharp breath between her teeth and continued with, "Illuminatin'." With the foxkin's own commentary, the spellrogue's gaze sliced across toward the familiar-but-unfamiliar other. There was a subtle sound coming from the shadowed countenance of the rogue queen, almost like a soft inhale, but the sound was smothered by a susurration fluttering through the room. A bluish blur descended from the rafters, and an azure-feathered crow alit upon the golem's shoulder, cawing with obvious agitation.

Whatever Fox had intended to add to her review of the night's events was silenced upon hitting her lips, and instead, she spoke back at the creature in her lilting, foreign tongue. "Naoi?" A furtive glance was sent sidelong toward Ina and Lanara, before she added to the bird, "No seachd?" The bird squawked at her again before flying back into the dark eaves, leaving Fox to curse, this time, in Common; a bad habit she'd picked up from a certain pirate.

Turning her attention fully toward Lanara and Ina, Fox was inclined to cut the meeting short, but a promise was a promise. Even thieves like her have some honor amongst them. "Aye, sae …" Her tone was all business now. "We micht hae a wee problem … but Ah'm sure it's naethin' ye tois cannae handle … If ye waur Rogues …" Her voice might have trailed off, but her tone was clearly suggestive of an offer hiding in the words.


Lanara scowls as Meri leaves the premises, likely to run and tell Callum about her eagerness to give the seven dirty dwarves lap dances. She would forever be known as the ‘dwarf whisperer’ and it’s a title she would prefer to keep hidden for the rest of her days! As Fox steps onto the dais and addresses the recruits, Lana gives a sidelong glance to Ina, pleased that the woman also managed to complete her task without failing. She preferred to fly solo when on a job, but thankfully they managed not to butt heads, and it seems that there is a place for both of them within the Guild, should they accept the invitation to join. What sort of trouble was she indicating? Whereas most sensible people would avoid diving headfirst into the unknown, the witch sits on the edge of her chair, dark hues lighting up at the mention of possible peril. “Then I guess you better get explaining, Fox, because now that –I- am a Rogue… I would be delighted to assist in whatever is going on…” Lana accepts the offer and smiles at Fox, not having any qualms about joining the ranks, as whatever happened in the shadows was her own business. Life was all about balance, was it not? She could still remain loyal to her sister, lover, close friends, and guild mates; and they would be none the wiser about the darker side of the witch. Plus, she sought out cheap thrills and a life on the edge, and this was the perfect place to find such desires.


Ina steeples her fingers together, offering Lanara a look that's a cross between appraising and appreciative, "That's the spirit, Shorty! Though, I guess I could guessed ja were full of enthusiasm from earlier." The worst part of the little jab is just how cheerfully sincere the foxkin looks, at least if the mirthful gleam in her eye doesn't give too much away. In any case, she's quick to flick her attention back to their, "Fearless leader, It'd be such an honor. Immensely. 'Specially if it's gonna be fun, fun, fun like today. So." Her palms press together sharply enough to make a little clap, and she leans forward on her tiptoes, looking for all the world like she's ready to spill forward, "Issit a problem dat needs solvin', or a problem that needs a bit of motivation ta get even bigger still?" Ina is definitely all in on this, clearly. But then, what else does she have to do over the course of her day to day. (Work, That's what- if Nikola hasn't fired her.)


Fox's pale eyes swept toward Lanara, taking note of the witch's eagerness, and her painted lips twisted into a smirk as dark as the shadows that still shifted around the edges of her figure. "Och aye," she began, appearing just as eager to divulge the details, but as she let the phrase fall into the room on its own, it was clear she had no intention of doing anything close to answering their questions. Instead, her gaze cut toward Ina next, and it was at that point that a husky chuckle fell past those simpering tiers.

"Keep yer keks oan, kimmers," the assassin's reply finally sounded around the room. "We'll gie thaur - fur noo, we hae a bit ay business atween us first." Stepping away from the dais, the rogue leader reached into the shifting mass of darkness to produce not one but two identical pendants. Holding a disclike medallion in each hand, palms up, she held them out as if inviting either of them to take them from her.

"Ye ken me as Fox noo," she continued slyly, curling her fingers around each necklace a beat longer before relinquishing one to each new recruit. For all intents and purposes, it was a smooth, nondescript disc on a simple chain, but to other Rogues, it was a brand, an identity, a network of shadows. Once worn, the plain surface would give way to a dark sigil: four birds flying in opposite directions, their wingtips touching, the same symbol burned into the door leading further into the complex. " ... whit shall Ah call ye?" she concluded with, rather than assuming at least one of them went by 'Dwarf Whisperer' (although she was very tempted).


Lanara shoots a glare towards Ina when she’s referred to as ‘Shorty’ but she doesn’t bother to correct the foxkin, as it would only add fuel to the fire. A respectful nod is given to Ina, once she accepts to join the ranks, as the more, the merrier, right? So long as she didn’t get on Lanara’s nerves –too- much, perhaps they could become friends far into the future. It’s then that Fox steps away from the dais and offers each woman a pendant, which is graciously accepted, “Thanks!” It’s a sign that she belongs to this group of those that like to work in the shadows, a ‘mark’ of a true badass, and it will rest nicely alongside Lanara’s pentacle. The witch is admiring the simple pendant as the leader asks what they would like to be called, and for a moment she’s confused, but then everything makes sense. If they had to refer to each other, they couldn’t exactly shout ‘Lana’ across the room, for if they were to get caught she’d be easily identified. “Please, nothing to do with dwarves!” She interjects, cutting off the thought pattern and words that were about to fall from Ina and Fox’s lips. This is going to be harder than the mission, Lana thinks, as she already have several nicknames, some of which were unsavory. Lioness. Cinnamon. Canary. Tiny Dancer. Crazy Lana. Slaughtering Sister. Witchy. Lala. “Hm… I don’t know…” She falls silent and lets Ina come up with her code name, as she thinks hard for a name that would be fitting. A giggle escapes as she holds a finger up, “I think I have the perfect name for me, seeing as I tend to rely on looks and charm to get me through the worst of things… Plus, a little flirting goes a long way in this line of work. How does ‘Minx’ sound?”


Ina manages to resist any sort of graspy fingers motions that might have otherwise appeared when a new shiny object is introduced to the scene, instead adopting her best look of casual indifference. You know, until it's actually in her hands, at about which point she proceeds to poke, fidget with, and generally dote over the new addition to her wardrobe. Just ignore the part where she briefly chomps on it, before actually putting it on. "Stylish." When the prospect of nicknames come up, she does look poised to help, too- so it's probably a good thing Lanara perks up at that point, and pre-emptively silences the foxkin. It also gives her time to start checking off her own options, "..Well, ja already took fox, n' it mighta been too on the nose in my case, so." Where was she going with this? "Kit might be cute- but. . ." And then her head cants off to the side, before rather simply stating, "Tail. Cause I got a handful, n' I'm rather talented at tellin' some tall ones, ja know?" Ina looks inordinately pleased at the line of thinking, practically preening at her own bit of cleverness. Humble, she ain't.


Fox folded her sculpted arms, leveling her hooded stare toward Ina as she predictably bit into the pendant; her eyebrow might have risen a minute degree higher. Meanwhile, the witch came to a decision, and the guild leader returned her attention toward Lanara, or rather, Minx. The spellrogue continued endeavoring to abstain from referencing aptly-dwarven-related names, and parted with a sly, "Och aye, Minx suits ye." She angled her chin down into a prolonged nod; it was as much to conceal the crooked smirk pulling at her crimson lips as it was to acknowledge the name itself.

Her pale celadon eyes shifted back toward the foxkin, and her smirk blossomed into a wide grin. "Sure, Ah mauna be a fox loch ye, but yoo'd hae tae admit, Ah'm bonnie crafty." At the state they had left things, more than one dwarf was bound to have wet themselves. Fox considered Ina's suggestion, before awarding her a deep nod as well. "Tail it is, 'en."

Fox took a step back as if to stand guard alongside the golem. "Ah woods welcome ye properly," she recommenced, tone as evasive as ever, "but as aam sure ye can baith agree, as we dinnae officially exist, thaur is naethin' tae welcome ye tae." She waited for a beat before continuing, "As fur th' bit ay business Ah hae fur ye, go home fur noo. Sleep. Be wi' yer folk, if ye hae any. Th' time tae deal wi' thes problem will come suin enough." It may not have been a reassuring send-off, but another beat later, she added deliberately, "Ah will be in tooch very suin regardin' th' completion ay thes contract." The look she granted the pair of them was full of meaning; money money money, money! The guild leader took another step back, and then another until the shadows in the corners of the room enveloped her completely.