RP:Third Eye Blindsided

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

Part of the Seven Dwarves All Around Me Arc

Summary: When the Rogue's Guild's most recent client finally reached out to remit the remainder of the agreed-upon payment and insisted that they meet at the scene of their crime to do so, klaxons blared in the rightfully-paranoid rogue leader's mind. Heading into what she suspected to be a trap, Fox invited Inks, Malus, and Tail to trail after her for back-up. Good thing too because the All-Seeing Syndicate ambushed Fox the moment she tried to enter the inn. In a forcefully electrifying display of abilities, the team managed to penetrate the bespelled Inn. But waiting for them was The Oracle herself, who flexed the extent of her influence and layered thinly-veiled threats onto the table before disappearing entirely—with the client and the innkeeper in tow.

Outside the Inn, Cenril

It had been weeks since the night now referred to among the guild as The Whispering (well, Fox called it that for obvious reasons). One would think the massacre of seven dwarves would have led to more ripples in the grapevine throughout Cenril. Still, as all reports had pointed only to a fateful combination of alcohol and food poisoning, no one had batted an eye as they were unobtrusively buried and forgotten. At least, they were forgotten by anyone who didn't know better. Since that night, Fox had felt a growing sense of unease; sure, there had been a few hiccups during the assassination itself, but even with the unassuming funeral days past, she found it hard to shake the feeling that something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. Now that the client appeared satisfied with the outcome of the contracted hit, they coordinated a rendezvous—the setting for their debriefing: the Large Inn, of course. The client had insisted. This was just one more thing that prickled at the back of Eleanor's neck.

The last rays of the day stretched down Beloy Street, casting Congressional Way into long shadows. Fox may as well have been one of those shadows as she leaned against the cathedral's tall stonework facade to the southwest of the inn itself. She had been standing there at least an hour, maybe two, letting her shadow-laced disguise further obscure her position. Watching everyone go in and out, her paranoia grew; the very lack of anything suspicious felt inordinately suspicious to her. As the nearby belltower rang out seven times, Fox saw the client's carriage arrive. Right on time. The guild leader sucked in a shallow breath and pressed herself deeper into the shadows.

A human of about forty emerged from the carriage, decorated in a tailor-made ivory suit with an aubergine vest and shined snakeskin shoes. His features were angular and austere, dark eyes quick to scope out the area, dark hair salted at his temples. He gripped a finely-made ebony cane in his left hand but hooked its shepherd's crook around his right forearm to take a moment to adjust his blazer and the flash of navy-and-aubergine that was his ascot. Once more, his dark eyes swiveled around to take in the street east and west, before moving inside. Meanwhile, the carriage driver guided the vehicle around the corner to wait for its master's bidding.

When Fox had heard from the client a couple of days ago, she had reached out to a select few, letting them know of the upcoming meeting. She wasn't considering letting them in on the meeting itself (better to keep them safely separated, she had mused), but the guild leader would be grateful, nevertheless, if she had back-up were things to go south. Not that Fox added that last part in her note, of course. She had a reputation to maintain. As she watched the client enter the inn from her vantage, she pulled a compact mirror from one of the many pockets hidden on her shadow-shrouded person. Discreetly angling the mirror around the northern corner of the cathedral, Fox tried to catch the last bit of sunlight, signaling to any Birds nearby that it was time to move in.

Meri would not be easily convinced to join the meeting with the client, not after how things played out during The Whispering. The reason Inks might be stubborn on this issue is not because she has the same foreboding feeling that Eleanor does, but because she has managed to keep her involvement in this whole fiasco minimal this far. Inks is, likely much to Eleanor's relief, much more keen on playing the role of back-up. It meant that she never had to be seen, not unless things went sour, which was much more in line with how Meri has operated thus far. Malus is of course appraised of all the details that he might be missing prior to them agreeing to take part in this leg of the mission. The two have the opportunity to hatch out a plan of some sorts. Inks? She will be taking to the roof tops of Cenril. Don't worry about how exactly the psion got up there, she's full of clever tricks. The blonde remains hidden within the shadows, though her elevated position made her naturally harder to spot. Even from a distance, the psion was an asset, and if her mind-powers failed to come up with any clever ideas then she has selected her bow as weapon of choice tonight. Malus will now kindly share his contribution to this whole mission.

Callum was very much within his own shadowed cloak as he headed towards the meet-up spot. He even almost gave away his position to those that still came and went down this portion of the street as he shoved things away into his satchel. If he'd not been a lycan, it would've been far too late by the time he smelled the already drunk female that was headed towards The Office, the place that Callum had just come from. Once that almost-interaction was over, he stopped, took a breath, and sighed. Going into The Office and down into its depths to recover samples from the crystal-plant hybrid finally made the Catalian antsy. It wasn't even just the sewers--it was the entire plant itself. He couldn't shake the Mad Alchemist feels he got from being around that plant even now, weeks after he'd first seen it. He was hoping he'd be able to get more info on those crystals first. Unfortunately, Lanara had not brought a blue topaz with her on the first day of his training as a witch. And then to make things worse, she had to return to Kelvar! It was another wrong turn down the path to the Craft that he seemed to be forever making. He hoped this one was temporary though. But, if it wasn't, he'd have to do this himself. The sooner he did it, the better, because he was not of the mind to keep these strange samples in the family house for too long. Not with the way the spore-like magic had clung to Eleanor for so long--and especially not with the way Fleur liked to eat things when she was in her puppy-lycan form! It was more worries to discuss with Meri later. For now though, he'd stuff his satchel in a safe place he'd found much earlier in the day and find his way to Eleanor's spot. He'd -allow- himself to act as an insider, should she head into the Inn. Random luggage bags had been delivered to the Inn earlier--though they were filled with nothing spectacular--but it'd allow him to play the part of fancy businessman traveler. He might be rich and he may often work in Cenril, but the city was so vast and he'd never even set foot in this Inn (it's only the expensive places when he's going elsewhere, you see). So, for tonight if Fox needed it, Malus was just another face in the crowd. Otherwise, his back-up plan was to find his own rooftop like Meri had and make with the storm magic.

Arlyeon isn't the biggest fan of returning to the scene of a crime. Sure, she's a repeat offender for card sharking people at the same taverns over and over again- but that's a very different prospect from venturing back to where you played a part in a mass murder. Wasn't this how 'tying up loose ends' happened, anyways? Ultimately, it was only under the guise of a common fox that she was ultimately able to convince herself to arrive on the scene- albeit one that looks especially shabby from rolling around in dust, so even whatever distinctiveness her fur may have leant her is marred. Really, the only thing that sets her apart from just any other stray animal lurking near the inn for scraps, is the chain about her neck, and the disc hanging off it.

The Large Inn had clearly recovered from the dwarven debauchery of before. Every table and chair in its proper place and nothing of the patrons' untimely death within these walls remained. As the client progressed across the threshold, however, the man seemed to hesitate for half a heartbeat. Having taken the cane in his left hand once more, he leaned heavily into the walking stick and tightened his grip on it. From across the street, Fox swore she saw him falter, and her celadon twins sharpened upon him. But the very next moment saw him pass from sight into the interior of the establishment. Fox's painted lips twisted into a scowl beneath the shadowed veil of her disguise. She wasn't sure, yet, what to make of what she thought she saw, but there'd be time for consideration on that later. For now, she pulled her gaze back to the street and allowed herself a small, wry smile. Her signal had worked. Although she could neither see, hear nor smell her comrades (a magical weakness she'd rather not spend too much time reflecting on), she could definitely feel each one who bore the four-bird pendant on their person. It was a small comfort knowing they were there, and as if she could tell they could see her, she seemed to nod in the dark.

It was time to move, though; that's what the signal had been for, and as the leader of the rogues finally stepped from her shadowed stoop, she hung her head, pulling her hood low over flaxen bangs and her iron crown. The otherworldly shadows that had disguised her earlier now peeled back to reveal a nondescript black hooded cloak. Appearing now as any other world-weary traveler in need of a comforting bed, she crossed the street and headed for the door of the Inn. As she made it to the far side of the street, however, figures emerged casually from the nearest alleys west and east alongside the inn. Two on each side, they moved in slowly to flank the guild leader. Each was at least a head taller than the woman and easily twice her weight in muscle alone. But the part that truly made Fox pause as they grew nearer was the third eye painted in gold ink on each of their foreheads. There was no time for the expletive that bubbled up to her lips; the men on her left lunged forward, intent on sandwiching the spellrogue between themselves and their allies. Rough hands curled around her upper arms, and she was shoved forcefully through the inn's entrance before they followed. All but one, who remained outside and positioned himself in front of the door, arms folded to present a formidable barrier against entry.

Did he really present a formidable barrier? Inks was quite keen on testing that, but she did not really need to abandon her post upon the roof top in order to do so. Her options are considered. The least subtle and most obvious option would be to fill this guy full of arrows. That would mean that Meri would have to dispose of an ugly mess right in front of the tavern. Probably not the best option. That's fine. Inks puts her telekinetic abilities to good use, and she's in the perfect position to do so. She has not been noticed on the rooftops yet, which gives her ample opportunity to focus and concrete. There are numerous objects outside of the Inn, some capable of causing more damage than others. Meri hones in on some gardening tools that have been left outside, look the Inn does not maintain it's yearlong flowers without some amount of hard work in this area. Specifically, Inks telekinetically grabs hold of a shovel that is to the left of said burly barrier man. The shovel levitates in the air and is swings itself right at the guy's head. If one hit is not enough to cause him to lose consciousness, Inks will keep trying. Shovel not getting the job done? The psion is capable of juggling more than one item, she can easily add a hoe and a rank in the whacking mix. Even if Meri is not able to beat this guy into unconsciousness, he'll have his hands full fighting....something, and probably puzzling over the mystery of what he is fighting. A ghost maybe?

Callum couldn't actually see Fox, thanks to those shadows that enveloped them both, but he'd found her by scent alone. There'd been a time where he'd abhorred the idea of being something other than human, if only because it was something he couldn't be bothered to research. It wasn't a racist thing per se though; merely he just had a much better handle on things as a human. Or so he'd thought. It wasn't until he'd been given the curse of lycanthropy that he realized that maybe his viewpoint all along wasn't necessarily a sound one. The gifts the curse gave him only made those roguish things he did much -much- easier. He could smell Fox as she walked away, hear the Innkeepers and their employees as they scurried about, dealing with their new occupants for the night. It would seem as though Malus wouldn't get to play a part within the Inn tonight. For once he was actually grateful? Because Mal could tell that he might not be able to do that quite as well as normal, since he was still a little shaken up by that whole gathering of samples thing. But, he could still help even now as Fox was being ferreted away by the strange men with eyes painted on their foreheads and as Meri was whacking people upside the head with shovels and other things. One of those things that he could smell now, with those heightened senses of his was the rain that clung to the dark clouds that towered overhead. It'd still be at least another hour or so before it was all ready, but Malus pushed it along. It started as a drizzle and then it began to pour. But most importantly, there was lightning. Lightning that crackled along the now wet stone street, static that charged the air around them. Still safe within the confines of his shadowy cloak, Callum called down the storm to its fullest, a bolt aimed for a single person amongst those that tried to take Fox away. And when it was done with him? It crackled still and chained itself to the next person and then the next, all the while missing Eleanor entirely. Huh, that sure is strange. These bolts weren't enough to kill a person though, sadly. Malus still was as much of a pacifist as his life allowed.

Arlyeon isn't generally the most violent sort. Sure, she'd played a part in a medecinal massacre, but it was the sort of thing that had relied on guile rather than any sort of major displays of violence. Which is probably why her initial reaction when things start to get complicated, is to start looking for avenues of escape the moment things get bad. That said, when she finds herself not only bearing witness to inarguably odd weather phenomena, as well as animated gardening supplies- well, it does allow for a shift in priorities. If anything, all the paranormal plights facing Eleanor's attackers provides an absolutely lovely distraction for the foxkin to dart her way over towards the confusion of the fray, weaving her way between their feet in an effort to trip them up at inopportune times, so an attempt at getting clear of a shovel might turn into an impromptu tumble instead. What's more- it wouldn't be altogether irregular for an animal to skittishly venture into the bar and take cover under a table with all that mayhem going on outside, would it? That's the hope, anyways, since Ina would like to see if she can get a better gauge on the situation.

Eleanor didn't need more than a second to realize that it probably wasn't Malus doing the gardening for once. As his partner's expert hoeing made short work of the first third-eyed thug, Fox took the opportunity to drive her elbow sharply into the ribs of one of the men holding onto her. She may be a little depleted where her magic was concerned, but there was a reason she took such efforts to hone her physique as well as her arcana. The grunt grunted as newly-bruised ribs screamed in pain, but instead of his grip slackening, he instinctively tightened his hold on her, before throwing Fox toward his companion. The third gilt-brow'd brute reached to curl his fists around her wrists, but the moment he released her upper arm, Fox went for the uppercut. Driving the full force of her weight into her fist, and that into his jaw, she knocked his eyes back into his head, making him the perfect victim for the lightning bolt that suddenly whizzed through the group. The smell of burnt flesh is not exactly like walking through a field of flowers. The sizzle of tissue practically burned the hairs in Fox's nose, and she wrinkled it in response.

The electric shock sent through the hulking gangsters was enough to send many of them off their footing. Recovering time was like wading through molasses, but the second Fox could, she sucked up that magical juju into herself, and the gem embedded in her crown flashed to life. As if provided a magical power-up, the spellrogue channeled it straight down her arms. While Malus may be a pacifist, she was not. She unleashed anything she could right back out into the brigands, and the blast was enough to knock them back altogether. If the smell of fried arm hair was unpleasant before, it was enough to make anyone gag now. She almost didn't even see the fox dodge through the scramble, but a blur of fur was enough to remind Fox of their mission.

The payload. They had done their part. If she were to assume the client just another pawn in The Oracle's game, she had to find him, and fast. Ducking under flying elbows and stricken faces, she weaseled out of their grasping hands and barreled into the inn proper, the door slamming shut behind her. An eerie silence greeted her, a stark contrast from the hubbub just past the door. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she concluded that she had entered into a bespelled space. Every candle in the inn's main room had been doused save one, which now illuminated the wizened features of The Oracle herself. She sat at a table in the center of the eating area and beckoned silently toward the empty chair opposite her. And standing just behind the all-seeing hag was the client, his lips twisted into a Cheshire grin. As Fox accepted she'd been set up, there was no confusing her expression for anything other than roiling anger.

The scent of rain was beginning to linger heavily in the air, and Inks knew exactly why. The shadowed woman was itching to abandon her post on the roof top, to make her way inside of the Inn and investigate what further trouble might be occurring. She managed to resist that temptation. Only just barely. There might be some advantage yet to her holding her post, perhaps additional men would be coming...? Perhaps someone that was not part of their team would run out and Meri would have the chance to follow. So, she pushed any concern she might have for those inside (namely Malus, sorry guys, she is fond of that Catalian), and tried her best to keep her head in the game. Keeping her head in the game does not mean leaving a body right in the middle of the street though. Her telekinetic abilities are employed once more, this time not to swing around rakes and hoes. This time she is dragging that body away from the Inn and down some alley way. A very uncomfortable place to wake up from a nap, but it could be worse.

She went in? Fox went in?! WHY WOULD YOU GO IN, WOMAN?! There's no shortage of Catalian curses as he watched his guildleader take out her assailants fully only to dive further into the OBVIOUS FRAKKIN' TRAP and just sat herself in the middle of what was essentially a mermaid feeding frenzy. Malus was pissed, to say the least. It wasn't even just that she walked into a trap, clearly, but also the smell that wafted from inside the inn smelled… off. Could she not detect it? Eleanor's abilities were not something he'd pried into at all, but after this? Well, he just might at some point. For now though, he was going to content himself by figuring out a way to get the hell in there. Because Malus was not going to just walk right on in there like Fox had, even if he was still hidden by his shadowy disguise. Instead, he went through the nearby alley that Meri had transported that body to and went around the back, trying to find a way in that wasn't going to blow his cover and wasn't going to get Fox anymore killed than she'd likely already gotten herself. He'd find a door eventually, the one the employees use when taking out the trash or had a smoke break, and headed inside, hoping there wasn't something that was going to kill him immediately on the other side.

Arlyeon wasn't quite sure what she'd been expecting when she dove into the bar, but it was not the somber darkness of the ensorcelled space. Whilst there'd been a general thrum of activity that had emanated from the bar, as though to signal business as usual- the inside of the place seemed to actively absorb the noise, turning the already quiet pad of her pawsteps uncannily quiet. There's a queer staleness to the air as well, as though the wind from the doorway could not move past the threshold of the tavern. For a moment, there's a desire to snarl at the strangeness of the place- but it passes, replaced instead by an almost peculiar sense of relief. After all, if things were put in place to mute the senses, perhaps her own presence had fallen beneath notice, and her resting spot beneath a table would not arouse any suspicion. At the very least, she hopes as much, if only so she can get a better idea of whether or not the layout of the ground floor had changed since she'd last been in the Inn.

Eleanor might admit to some that she had a complicated relationship with the Oracle, but it was probably the understatement of the year. In her early days in Lithrydel, she had gone to the supposedly prescient hag, taking on the dirtiest jobs her other gang members struggled to do. Where thugs and brutes had fumbled and failed, Eleanor came to these lands with years of experience in murder already and quickly rose above her shadowy peers. But what the spellrogue didn't know was that the all-seeing crone had a part in her story before. Before coming here, before finding Hudson and Leoxander and their crew and the guild. Before she had even left the Isl D'Vaine, the Oracle had been there, pulling strings. And now, here she was, doing it again.

Yet as the guild leader threw her glacial stare at her long-time mentor, it was clear she was starting to wisen up to her tricks - or rather, that she was allowing the older woman to think she was just now starting to. For all her ignorance of Things Before, Things More Recent soon propelled Eleanor forward. She had suspected of the Oracle's interference in The Whispering, but as the deafening silence slowly became more muffled and indistinct, she heard the quiet whimpering of someone in the dark. The innkeeper. Fox felt her boots carry her deeper into the inn. While she wasn't sure if she was moving of her own volition, she was undeniably certain that the man capitulated before the Oracle on the other side of the table was the proprietor of this establishment. She hadn't even noticed him at first either. Everything was spinning in her mind. But of course, he was here, kneeling in the dark, his sweaty brow yearning for the gentle touch of the hag's gnarled hand. The spellrogue barely had any more juice left after wrecking her way through the inn's entrance. Unfortunately, most of her mana had been recently dumped into a stupid old pirate in a naive bid to save him. What she had left was just dregs of what she could grasp from leylines and any magic released in the doorway fight. She could feel it crackle and twine around her fingers, ready to be channeled once more. But it wouldn't be enough to depose of the hooded hag in front of her, much less free the innkeeper of her bewitchment. Her boots went still once more. She stood maybe a table away from the table. Somewhere beyond her thudding senses, she could feel Ina nearby, and with her presence, the rogue leader drew in a deep, steadying breath. The Oracle was nothing. Nobody. Not anymore. El would make sure of that. "Alrecht, yoo've proven yer wee point." There was something sickly-sweet about the rogue leader's tone as if she was surrendering, but the glimmer of light in her pale sea-green stare might beg to differ. But before she could expand upon whatever thoughts were spooling up in her mental queue, the Oracle's voice cut through the tension. "Tsk tsk, is that really how you treat your mother?"

Meri had little clue what was transpiring at this point in time. She was outside the Inn, everyone else was inside the Inn...Perhaps they were not all in the same room? Inks had no idea. She was starting to get antsy though, for things were clearly going awry and she had no indication where the other rogues were, or if they were okay. They could be inside being massacred in a similarly cruel way as the dwarves for all she knew. Finally, Inks decides that she is tired of waiting. The shadowed woman takes a running leap off of the roof she has been positioned on and onto the roof of the Inn. No, your average human would not be able to jump that gap. Heck, even a werewolf might struggle with such a leap...but Meri is also a psion, she's able to give herself an added bump so that she doesn't splat against the hard ground. Once on the Inn's rooftop, Meri is looking to make her way inside the building. An open window would be ideal, but if there was not one...that would hardly stop Inks from achieving her goal of sneaking inside the Inn. She's quite intent on trying to find Malus first and foremost.

The door was opened and it was just… the kitchen? Malus snuck his way through to the other side and was met with something else that was just as ordinary: the dining room and check-in area. There was nothing off about it and yet? It was weird just the same. It made the hairs on the back of Mal's neck stand on end and a growl leave his throat in irritation. There was no Eleanor to be found, but he did feel another of the Rogue's nearby. Meri would kill him if he continued to stay in there where something was clearly afoot and just leaving her out there without the knowledge that some frakkery might happen. Would this other Rogue be able to help Fox if she needed it? He had his doubts, but against his better judgement, he'd continue his path straight for the door that Fox had come in through. Mal would leave the premises entirely, if only to grab his bag that he'd hidden away and seek out Inks' hiding spot. There they'd be able to watch whether or not trouble went into the Inn or an Eleanor came out.

Arlyeon is waiting for a nebulous something - a signal, perhaps, or a clearcut indication that things were either resolved, or completely going to hell. Lacking either in this particular instance, the more-literal-than-normal foxkin decides now's as good a time as any to plop her head down onto the ground and just pointedly stare at the scene unfurling before her. At the very least, this seems to be full of juicy info. Like that mother bit- is that literal or figurative? Draaaama. And her without popcorn.

Fox scoffed, giving her head a dismissive shake. "Ye spick in riddles, witch," she countered curtly. "We both ken yer womb tae be as barren as yer heart." Despite the tone on which the words were delivered, the Oracle cackled in reply, a raspy, throaty sound that grated wholly on the rogue leader's nerves. Still, El pushed forward. Taking a literal step, she sought to buy herself a little time, sensing the members of her guild moving around into varying positions. And so she added coyly, "Sae am Ah tae assume 'at ye sent Mr. Dearbrin tae me? Ur did he come tae ye efter we signed th' contract?"

Mr. Dearbrin, the very client hovering half-cast in shadow behind the Oracle, released a low snicker, the sound of which seemed to affect the innkeeper in much the way the Oracle's laugh had gotten under Fox's skin. The innkeeper recoiled, but the faintest brush of the hag's knuckles across his brow had the man cowering before the witch once more. It took a great deal of effort on Fox's part not to roll her eyes at the postulations and theatrics - tricks of her trade as well, sure, but it was very different when you were being force-fed your own medicine. "Mr. Dearbrin," the rheumy-eyed Oracle began, her words drawn out and careful, "is my employee, as are you unless you have forgotten?" Her red-rimmed stare swiveled around the darkened inn, almost hoping to pick out shadows that didn't belong, before returning to fix sharply on Fox once more. "Every time you grow, sweet, so too do I. And every time you take something that isn't yours—" Eleanor felt the Oracle's stare boring right through her before the hag continued pointedly, "I feel that too." Fox wouldn't let herself even consider looking down at the wand holstered under her cloak, nor did she move a single muscle as if to reach for it. However, what she did do was pull at that little thread of remaining magic that still circled her readied fingers. And then she prayed to whatever gods still listened to a sinner like her.

It wasn't much; only a rustle of magic, like a bird adjusting its feathers. And with it carried a simple message to her guildmates. Run. There was no fight to be left here, not tonight. Not with this witch. She couldn't spare the time to explain to them why she had invited them here only to send them away again. But she hoped the signal would be enough to get them to safety. It was her mess. Fox would find a way to pay them for the job but, she knew there'd be no coin from the client this night. "And one more thing, my dear." The Oracle's saccharine words sickened Eleanor for reasons she couldn't quite place. "I do hope you know what you've set in motion." She paused a beat, letting the spellrogue's mind come up with a million different conclusions. "I hope you know who you killed here." Once more drawing on the smoke and mirrors of their trade, the Oracle doused the candles on the table in front of her. What light remained in the darkened Inn was snuffed out, but a beat later, the room glowed with warmth and light. The room was empty, however. The Oracle and the client were gone. The innkeeper, also gone. And this time, there was plenty of time for a whole string of colorful curses from the guild leader.

Arlyeon might feel that command, but it's not one she feels safe to heed in that moment. Even after the exchange between the pair finishes, and the tavern once more appears to be bright and inviting- the vulpine rogue hesitates to move. It's only when she feels certain that she's not being scrutinized that she begins to slink towards the door, the pad of her footfalls disconcertingly obvious now after the prior stillness of the room.