RP:The price of immortality

Broken Barrel Inn

Langley had taken the day for a bit of a vacation of sorts, departing from his usual haunts in Vailkrin to enjoy the salt-rich air of this city by the sea. It had been a day of seaside walks and strolls through the city, sampling the finest foods and drinks that the city had to offer; the man indulging his scrutinizing pallets in whatever tasty thing caught his eye. Truly, it was a wonder that Langley managed to maintain a svelt figure at all with all his tendencies towards bon vivant behavior. And now, he was polishing off the day with his old standby, three fingers of brandy old enough to be his father paired with an earthy broadleaf that smoldered in the bowl of his pipe. Alas, for as much as this little distraction was meant to be a day of relaxation, it seemed that Langley was a workaholic who just could never leave his work at home for even a day. He sat hunched over his table there by the wall, pen moving in a flurry of motions as he drafted out a contract. Outside, crows and ravens had gathered in a great flock; perching on the buildings roof and squaking at any who approached the inn. Inside, the one raven that had accompanied Langley into the building occupied its usual spot on the man's shoulder where it's beak could hover close to Langley's ears that it might quietly click and cluck as is trying to utter forth whatever secrets its little brain contained. "Perhaps but no. Too mundane, keep trying. We need someone... special. You know this." He said to that bird as an old sailor wandered in to start his night of drinking.

Kreekitaka had gone outside to clear his head for a bit after that long discussion with Rorin. Maybe he -was- actually afraid of things, and just didn't recognize it. Maybe his paths of caution had truly come from fear, and not simply cleverness. Maybe he had known all along that he's merely a mortal, (albeit an accomplished one) and was working to make sure that mortal life wasn't prematurely ended. ...And maybe those parts of his brain were wimps and needed to be drowned in alcohol, even the horrible grain-based garbage they had above the surface. The king of crabs shoved his way through the door, all four of his legs clattering on the wooden floor as if four pirates had just entered. He had to squat low to fit all eight feet of his blue-green carapace through the door, his segmented body hunching over and all of his paddles folding flat against his sides. Stalk eyes took in the patrons of the bar in a moment, and then he moved his way over towards the bartender, raising one of his huge claws and snapping it for attention. "Barkeep," he ordered, with the tone of voice a king uses when making a demand of one of his servants, "HHHTHree pinTAH!s of your strongesTAH! yiquor, pyease." As he turned and leaned against the bar, his kilt shimmered and swirled, the silver embroidery on it depicting a creature much like himself punching out what appeared to be a wingless dragon. Subtlety was not something Kree was particularly good at.

Langley reached over to his shoulder and curled his fingers around the beak of his chatty little feathered friend, the lenses of his rose-colored glasses shimmering as he admired the facsinating specimen that had entered the inn. "Make it four pitchers, my good man." Langley called out to the barkeep in that smooth drawl of his, his voice upbeat and cordial as he spoke the words with exceptional enthusiasm. "And see to it that you put it on my tab. That... scholarly gentleman there, his money ain't currently no good here." And with his other hand, Langley gestured to the seat across from him, his eyebrows raised as he waved his fingers again and again towards that end of the table. "Come now, son. Relax a bit, I can practically smell the tension about you. Might be that I can aliviate whatever it is that does so ail you, friend." He was brimming with excitement that he kept carefully gaurded behind a mask of calm joy, a gentle smile formed across his lips.

Kreekitaka rippled his paddles and flared his facial crushers at this man who dared to presume his money was worthless. One claw snapped open and small tentacles extended out, moving to his belt and whipping out a business card. "Schoyaryee or noTAH!, cyearyee you have no iDAH!ea who I am." He slid the card across the table towards the man as he moved to sit--it was true, he was tense, and so he decided, even as he made the choice to explain exactly who this man was dealing with, to take his advice. "I am KreekiTAH!ka," he said, releasing the card when it was close enough to reach. It had on it the symbol of some sort of ancient, primordial sea creature (a trilobite, for those so inclined to know) and read "Kreekitaka's Fine Imports: Defining high fashion across the entire continent for almost two years," followed by the name "Kreekitaka, owner" and "For franchise opportunities, contact our offices in Larket." Clearly, the crab was expecting the man to have at least heard of the store, if not the name. The trilobite logo was almost ubiquitous among those with the means to acquire his designs, though admittedly that number was somewhat small. "I am HHHTHe richesTAH! person I know," he added, after a short pause to let the man admire the card. "My money is gooDAH! -anywhere-." Extra drink wouldn't hurt, though, which was why he didn't outright reject the offer. "An' you are?"

Langley took the card in one hand and admired it, adjusting his glasses as he examined even the tiniest of details that the card had to offer. Then, with a flick of the wrist, the card was gone and it's place was another. "Ahhh, a business man. Right after my own heart. As I understand, your attires are highly coveted and sought after. You should be proud. Even I'm not bold enough to try my hand at the fashion market." He commented as he slid his own card across the table. This one was less ornimental to be sure, black with letters embossed in red that simply read "Gerald Lawrence Langley, Purveyor." He remained quiet for a moment to allow the crustean to look over the card, idly inspecting the finger nails of his right hand. "As the card says but most people just call me Langley, Kreekitaka. And I have no doubt you are impressively wealthy but on the surface, when a man foot the bill on another's drink, it is a gesture of kindness and respect not a suggestion that you are poor." He explained, his hand rolling in the air to add a bit of extra emphasis to the words that he spoke. "But more to the point, my specialty is wish fulfillment, you see. The heart's desire, the answers to some mystery that afflicts you. Maybe you have a pesky memory of a lost love that makes you weep. I tend to it all, my hard-shelled friend."

Kreekitaka took the card--oh, how it felt good to be doing business with another actual businessperson--and examined it while he explained the ins and outs of bill-footing. (It's amazing what sort of customs you'd expect to be universal don't carry over between species.) "Hm," he said, holding onto the card and toying with it idly with his tentacles, considering. Wish fulfillment was an impressively broad sort of category. "Yangyey," he tried, twitching a facial crusher with distaste at having to butcher the name so badly. Almost worse than Lionel's name. "...How DAH!oes one 'TAH!enDAH! TAH!oo' a memory?" he asked, paddles rippling. "One's minDAH! is HHHTHe onyee sacreDAH! pyace he has, yes?" Surely nobody would purposefully invade another's privacy as a business-venture! "An' whaTAH! of HHHTHose whose hearTAH!s DAH!esire HHHTHings which have no raw subsTAH!ance, such as... for exampo... HHHTHe yook on someone's face when HHHTHey reayize noHHHTHing HHHTHey have ever DAH!one in yife is worHHHTH a minnow's cough?" That last sentence got a bit heated toward the end, as though it were something of a very personal matter.

Langley folded his hands on the table and listened to each and everyone one of Kreekitaka's questions, his head tilting from the left to the right on ocassion. Each of those were fine questions and ones that Langley had heard voiced plenty of times before. But he did not get to be who he was by simply waving off those questions as some in his business might. A comfortable customer is a happy customer, after all. He cleared his throat and lifted his glass of brandy to his lips, taking a slow sip before clearing his throat again. "I will gladly explain the prior to you if you so wish but," Langley paused for a moment to contemplate his words. The words that Kreekitaka had used in that second question and the way that he said them, this was not a question posed of mere curiosity. "Let's us focus on that second matter for a moment. Because it seems to me that you are having yourself a bit of an existential crisis. What is there for you to be so upset about. You came to our world and built a clothing empire. Was that not your goal? What else are you after... and please, be specific." He leaned forward over the table. "Help me to help you." He added, touching his chest with both hands before gesturing them towards Kreekitaka.

Kreekitaka took a moment and relaxed himself. "I... hm. I was, aTAH! firsTAH!, jus' trying TAH!oo HHHTHink of someHHHTHing which was yess HHHTHan TAH!angibo. However... yes, I have more go--g--HHHTHings I wish TAH!oo achieve," he finished, unable to say the word "goal" to his satisfaction. "I was DAH!eemeDAH! TAH!oo powerfo by HHHTHe peopo who ran HHHTHe ciTAH!ee where I yiveDAH!. So I hireDAH! mercenaries, sTAH!ormeDAH! HHHTHe ciTAH!ee, an' mayDAH! myseff king. I have raiseDAH! many greaTAH! warbeasTAH!s an' came very cyose TAH!oo conquering a ciTAH!ee on yanDAH! once, before my frienDAH!s betrayeDAH! me." He paused a moment, realizing his story had become somewhat disorganized. "I wanTAH! TAH!oo have my name be on everyone's yips." Had he been less intrigued by the offer of "wish fulfillment" he might have stopped there. "I wanTAH! an army which can capture an' keep any number of ciTAH!ees." Uh oh. Now he's starting to get big. "I wanTAH! controying shares in every business. I wanTAH! my enemies aTAH! my feeTAH! begging for my aiDAH!. I wish TAH!oo have cyaws so mighTAH!ee Vekhnrn himseff cannoTAH! TAH!ouch me! Simpyee puTAH!, sir Yangyey," Kree crossed his arms, at this point almost challenging the man, "I wanTAH! TAH!oo be HHHTHe immorTAH!oh, invinciboh Emperor of EveryHHHTHing." Most days, Kree might not have been quite so blatant about his desires. But his earlier conversation had knocked a screw or two loose somewhere, probably.

Langley would be aglow with excitement were he not so good at masking his emotions behind a veil of sophistication, his eyes were practically shimmering behind the dark crimson lenses of his glasses. Oh, the possibilities. There were so many ways that he could take this, so many things that he could offer and an ambitious creature like Kreekitaka would do whatever it took to... well, best not to get ahead of one's self. He chuckled softly as he reached into his jacket to pull from it a pen. His other hand twirled and, in a flash of brilliant emerald light, conjured up a sheet of parchment. "Let's us start... a little smaller, I think. Best to do these sort of things in steps rather than all at once. You risk spreading yourself too thin, dividing your focus. And when your focus is divided... well," He paused to set the paper down onto the table and tapped the tip of his pen against that paper. "There is a reason dividing the enemy is a timeless military strategy." He began to write the first string of words. 'I, _______, agree to the terms and conditions of this contractual agreement understanding that I will recieve the services that follow from one Mister Gerald Lawrence Langley.' "It is becoming quite clear to me that you are fearful of your own mortality. I can hardly blame you either. Ain't a day that passes that I don't contemplate my own eventual demise. So what if I offer you a bit of insurance, a nice 'just in case' sort of arrangement. Death ain't always the end for us if you make the right arrangements, my friend. And today is your lucky day because I just happen to know how to make sure that even the most fatal blow landed against you will be a trifle of a problem at best."

Kreekitaka wrote up contracts fairly often, himself, and as he watched the words being scrawled on the paper he immediately shifted into business-mode. This was... actually possible? Hm. His paddles flared, then snapped shut, then slowly rippled open again as he considered the implications. But first things -first-. "I am -noTAH!- afraiDAH!," he said, deliberately enunciating each syllable, which probably had a similar effect to that of a yawning child saying "I'm not sleepy~". "I am a king an' ruyer, an' I fear noHHHTHing." Keeeeep telling yourself that, Kree. "However, I remain... interesTAH!eDAH!," he said, relaxing. "Obviousyee, before I sign anyHHHTHing I'm going TAH!oo wanTAH! TAH!oo know HHHTHe DAH!eTAH!aiohs of such an arrangemenTAH!. I make contracTAH!s myseff, you know."

Langley smiled a geniune smile. He was not under the illusion that he could slip in those sneaky little bits of fine print with this one. In fact, Langley almost never did such things in the first place. He found it typically much more beneficial to be straight forward with his would-be associates. "Ah, yes. You are right. Perhaps afraid is not the right term but you have been betrayed before and it is no secret that darker minded folk are often scheming to depose and decapitate those who are in power. I ain't of the opinion that readying yourself for such incidents is cowardice. It is simply... being prepared and fortune favors the prepared, my friend." He replied smoothly as he continued to write. 'Gerald Lawrence Langley as the contractor hereby agrees, by the signing of this document in blood, that he will ensure that the contractee will rendered unable to die until such a time as the contract is willfully terminated by both parties. This service includes all manners of death.' Langley then slid that paper across the table so that Kreekitaka might be allowed to review the introductory terms that he had draft. "It will be a fairly simple proceedure. You will remain as you currently are with the added caveat of, should you be accidentally or intentionally rendered deceased, I shall personally ensure that you cured of that condition." He then cleared his throat. "Of course, there will be the matter of what I get out of this arrangement. I think my terms are relatively cheap considering what you get. Simply put, I only ask that you agree to render me a favor. One single favor that I may call upon when I have need of it."

Kreekitaka rippled his paddles a little as he picked up the paper. It sounded... well, it sounded too good to be true, honestly. Guaranteed survival, period? In exchange for a favor. "One favor," he repeated, shifting his weight. "WhaTAH! sorTAH! of favors DAH!oo you usuayee ask of your contracTAH!ees? An' I shoulDAH! aoso yike a... hmm... if noTAH! a DAH!emonstration of HHHTHe procedure, aTAH! yeasTAH! a sTAH!ep-by-sTAH!ep expyanation. Imagine how my repuTAH!ation mighTAH! sink if iTAH! were DAH!iscovereDAH! I was pyedging an oaHHHTH Vekhnrn, for exampo." The whole "signing of this document in blood" bit was a little disturbing as well. An ink signature was usually binding enough, wasn't it? Still, if it turned out that this -was- slanted as heavily in his favor as it looked... he'd be willing to play ball.

Langley drew in a deep breath and drummed his fingers a bit on the table as he considered his explaination in a way that would be easily understood. "There is... energy within us, you see. Most of it is errant, flowing off of us into the wild blue yonder. Simply put, I take some of that energy from you and tuck it away for safe keeping. If you should happen to become listed among the dearly departed, I'll know and I'll use the energy I've taken today to revitalize you." He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers to illustrate the simplicity of it. "And viola, instant immortality. This is powerful magic, my friend. And by binding it in blood, you can rest easy knowing that I will uphold my end of the bargain... well that and the desire to ensure you have enough faith in me to come to me for more... benefits." He leaned back in his chair a bit and took up his glass for another slow sip of that delightful amber liquid. His skin was practically crawling with the excitement that processing a contract always gave him. "The favor will likely be something simple. I might require a travelling partner for a period of time or I might need a new suit someday. Heck, I may never have need to call in the favor. Its just nice to know that I have the option."

Kreekitaka went over and over Langley's explanation in his head. Something seemed... off about it. It wasn't quite what he'd imagined immortality to look like. One claw went up and stroked his facial crusher in an oddly moustache-twirl-like gesture. "I DAH!on'TAH! know," he said, slowly, trying to parse out exactly what it was he was feeling. "ITAH! sounDAH!s yike you're mereyee offering TAH!oo heoh me in HHHTHe evenTAH! of my... 'DAH!emise'. Suppose you are, say, run over by a runaway DAH!inosaur an' crusheDAH!. You woulDAH! be unabo TAH!oo resurrecTAH! me if I were syain, in HHHTHaTAH! case." He pulled a vial containing some sort of potion from a seperate holster on his belt. The crab is like Batman or something with this utility belt, I swear. "I can geTAH! a simiyar effecTAH! from a potion of regeneration yike HHHTHis one. How is whaTAH! you are offering any superior TAH!oo HHHTHis concoction?"

Langley looked at that potion with disgust, cringing at the very notion of its existence. It was, as far as he was concerned, a crude and unsophisticated magic. "You could drink that, yes." He replied, shrugging dismissively at the idea of its consumption. "But will it grow back your head if it is removed from your shoulders? Will it replace your heart if its yanked from your chest? Tell me, Kreekitaka, can it put you back together if you're torn limb from limb?" He leaned forward, hands slamming down onto the table as they balled into fists. It was time to really drive the point home and expain the exact depths of what he was offering. "If you are crippled, will that potion crawl its way into your mouth and make sure it gets drank, my friend?" Langley's normally calm manner of speak grew elevated, slightly aggressive. "I'm not offering any mere parlor trick. I'm not offering to heal you should you lose an arm. Any fledgling healer could do a thing like that. No, sir." He reached forward to tap a single finger against the contract. "Sign this and your body could burn to ash and I would still be able to put you back together again. Good. As. New."

Kreekitaka felt his paddles rising as the man got somewhat more aggressive. He could understand the reaction, he'd acted similarly when his own craft was insulted. He slipped the potion back into its proper place on his belt. "Okay. I can appreciaTAH! HHHTHis." He allowed the point to slide--it was true, active magic usually worked better than the bottled variety. Chemicals were only good up until a point. "However, you ignoreDAH! my firsTAH! question. WhaTAH! happens if -you- DAH!ie, Yangey? Can you resurrecTAH! me even from beyonDAH! HHHTHe grave?" After all, he'd said nothing about the spell preventing the aging process, and he'd mentioned something earlier about his own mortality. "I know whaTAH! you are offering is powerfoh, DAH!oo noTAH! misTAH!ake my inTAH!entions. However, sureyee even HHHTHis magic cannoTAH! yasTAH! forever?"

Langley cleared his throat, regaining his composure a bit. He even took a moment to adjust his tie a bit and smooth out his sleeves. How unbecoming it was to lose one's temper even if only slightly. "A legitimate concern but one that you need not worry yourself about. For men like me, death is only the beginning. Chapter one: I lived. Chapter two: I lived again." It was true. Langley had spent his life learning to master death so that when death came for him, he would be ready to turn that fickle woman away. So he spoke those words with utter confidence, not flinching even once as he suggested that he himself had already figured out the solution to immortality. "Death is painful so I don't rush myself towards her arms, friend, but I've made my arrangements." He explained as he placed his pen down upon that contract that he had been drafting. "And the magic will last as long as magic exists. When you conquer the world just don't go doing anything to severe the ties between this world and the world of magic and everything will be just fine. I can see it now, 'The Immortal King of Everything. They say that no spear can end his reign. Take of his head and he'll put it right back on. Burn the eternal emperor and from the ashes, he will spring anew.'" Langley leaned forward a bit, a hand cupping around his ear as his voice lowered to a whisper. "I can almost hear their fear and admiration."

Kreekitaka turned his eyes down at the contract and went back to toying with a facial crusher. This could potentially be a game-changer. It could bring him exactly what he wanted, or at least the start of it. It was also still almost too good to be true. He gently gripped the contract with a claw. "May I confer wiHHHTH my aDAH!visors before I sign?" he asked. "I remain inTAH!eresTAH!eDAH!, you may be sure. However, a DAH!ecision such as HHHTHis mus' be TAH!aken very seriousyee, as I am sure you are aware." There was another pause. "WoulDAH! HHHTHere be any oHHHTHer siDAH! effecTAH!s?"

/ leaned back again and gave his chin a stroke, trying to push back the impatience that was growing within him. People had wanted time to think in the past and he always gave it to them but it did not mean that Langley particularly enjoyed waiting. "It depends. Some have complained of temporary memory loss if the cause of their death was destruction of the brain. The memories always come back, it just takes a few days for things to... piece back together, so to speak. Death is supposed to be a permanent condition, there might be the odd issue if I bring you back while your body and soul recouperate." He explained. Death was a complicated misstress who did not much like when people toyed with her designs, after all. "And yes, you may have all the time you need but... ah, not too long. You never know what could happen and you don't have your safety net just yet, my friend. When you've made up your mind, just tell a crow or a raven and I'll be there in a jiffy." He snapped his fingers to illustrate how quickly he would arrive.

Kreekitaka rippled his paddles lightly and tapped his chest with a claw--the combination of sounds was surprisingly musical, almost like someone trying to replicate the sound of laughter by playing a xylophone with kettledrum mallets. "Aomos' sounDAH!s yike a HHHTHreaTAH!, frienDAH!," he said, then turned to the waitress, who'd been keeping a fair distance while the two had been speaking not-quietly about contracts and immortality, and waved her over. "Io be sure TAH!oo yeTAH! you know as soon as I have chosen," he said, tentacles extending from one claw to grab the mugs off the tray and place them on the table. He happened to know exactly the person to ask about all this, too. She had some experience in bringing him back from being almost-dead, so it was likely she'd have some idea as to what the risks might be in a deal in which someone brought him back from being all-dead.

Langley grabbed up his glass and finished the last of his brandy as he stood himself up from his seat, gently setting the emptied cup back down onto the table. "Not a threat, son. Not a threat at all. I'm not much for killing, this suit was expensive and I would hate to get blood on it." He chuckled as he scooped up his pen and tucked it away into the pocket of his jacket. He turned to leave but paused, holding up a finger as he spun to face Kreekitaka once more. "I would... take certain things that others might say with a grain of salt, friend. There are those who consider this sort of magic dark and evil. I assure you, there is nothing wicked about it. You wont become one of them there zombies or anything like that. You'll just... live again." With that said, he gave Kreekitaka a tip of the hat and then turned to leave, sauntering on out the door with the tune of a cheery hum on his lips.