RP:Trading the Old for the Dead
Frostmaw Ruins Graveyard
The area is incomfortable and chilled, not only physically but spiritually. As you find your feet stepping off of a dirt path, it leads directly into this graveyard. Each grave is old, and many of plaques or tombstones are decayed and unreadable, as well as several of the stone head pieces are simply rumble along the ground. You do however notice some of these graves are empty, and the caskets have been torn open from the inside out, while the frozen dirt was pushed away, and something or someone made their way out of this place. You can see a small dirt path leading to the north, and to the east.
Ezekiel stood silently in the midst of the graveyard, the only movement was at the back of his legs, where the length of his long coat was bouncing in the wind. For two weeks now, he'd been looking for necromancer, and so far, had hardly any luck. From town to town, graveyard-to-graveyard, he had looked. Still though, nothing; the answer was the same for this one in particular as well. From the looks of things, he'd missed the last one by a long shot.
Lita was moving quickly from frustration to anger. The throbbing at the back of her head was growing steadily worse and she had no idea if it was because she was getting closer or farther from what she was trying to find. Damn Satoshi and her mythical-magical locator spells. She'd been wandering the old battlefields, trying to find it. It wasn't until she'd gone some way into the graveyard that she realized she'd already been here the day before and come up empty as well. Damn it. She kicked at a random snow drift and cursed when the toe of her boot struck the corner of a hidden headstone. Damn it all! She turned, trying to walk off the pain. Nothing bruised but her ego. It was then that she spotted the man standing a few rows away. Squinting, she could tell it was the Foxy character from the tavern the night before. But why was here? Necromancer? Grave robber? Lost? She shouldn't care but she called out anyway, "You shouldn't be here."
Ezekiel had half of an unlit, hand rolled cigarette hanging off the bottom of his lip. Both of his gloved hands were tucked safely- and warmly -into each of his coats pockets, while his scarf was pulled up high, and snuggled tight. Gradually shifting the empty, stoic gaze from tombstone to Lita, the man took a second to recognize her before offering a casual retort. "Shhh. Don't wake the dead." For once, the goggles he usually wore, were pushed up against his brow, letting him take in the scene around, from a more natural point of view.
Lita couldn't help but roll her eyes, a little grin tugging at the corner of her lips as she trudged towards the man, closing the distance between them. Her suede overcoat was unbuttoned, revealed her usual attire of a simple black dress underneath, the hem of which stopped mid-thigh. Tal laced boots stopped just below her knees, however. Raven curls had been haphazardly tamed into a loose braid that hung over her right shoulder. Dark eyes settled on the cigarette that perched at his mouth and without asking she reached out with slender fingers and plucked it from his lip. She enjoyed a long slow draw before she'd handing it back, tilting her head slightly to exhale a steady stream of silver towards the ground. "Thanks." She glanced to the tombstone he'd been staring at. "What're you doing out here anyway?"
Ezekiel pinched the remains of the cigarette in between thumb and index, and finished it off. Unlike the night with Hanan, he would -not- accidentally flick it her way, or anyone else' for that matter, but respectfully stuff it in his coat pocket (extinguished, of course). He was not here to desecrate someone's grave. Squatting down, he'd reach out with one hand, and brush the frost away from the weather beaten plaque, and simply shrug. "Looking for someone." There was a moment of silence, the only sound was that of the cold, frigid wind swirling around the two, before he spoke. "And yourself?"
Lita wasn't sure what kind of someone you would be looking for in a graveyard. A dead someone, she supposed. Or a lost loved one, perhaps. But she knew better than to make such assumptions and she simply nodded absently. "Looking for something." A truth about as concrete as his own. "But it's not here. I've been here before already." The throbbing in her head was definitely getting to her if she'd been here before. Like someone playing kickball with her brain or yelling too loudly but only inside her head, making her feel pain and crazy all at the same time. Yeah, she'd definitely be getting Satoshi back for that one. "I don't think the person you're looking for is here."
Ezekiel remained sitting there, in his squatted posture, the trail of his long coat strewn about the snow. "Forgive me, I should elaborate." The man dug around in the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out a small tin case, in which he held up for Lita. A creation of his own, albeit simple; a cigarette case. He held it open for her to take one if she desired, before lightly pinching one in between his own lips, once again. "I'm looking for someone, with a certain skill set, if you will." It was here, Ezekiel finally looked up, and over his shoulder, those dull brown eyes of his meeting hers. Again- there was silence. "You're a lot easier to talk to than your friend." He of course, meant Hanan.
Lita waved a hand in offer of the cigarette. She didn't smoke often. And Cal's cigarettes were better than this man's. She was spoiled, at least in that respect. She watched him closely. Her curiosity was piqued slightly as he mentioned he was looking for someone with a certain skill. But she was distracted by his comment about her being easier to talk to than-- who? Hanan? Lita had to grin at that. "The Cap'n has her moments." She shoved her hands into her coat pockets, thanking the inventor of the garment as her fingers thawed against the bitter cold of the winds. "What skills would you be in search of? Perhaps I can help."
Ezekiel quietly tucked the case back into the inner pocket, and slowly stood up with an aching groan. Between the squatting position and freezing wind, his knees were none to happy with him right now. Using a small metal box with both flint and tinder inside, he'd spark a soft flame before catching the end of his cigarette. That too was tucked into his pocket. One trinket after another; this is what happened when you as a retired watchmaker, got bored. "To put it bluntly- A necromancer. I need the skills of a necromancer." Putting his entire palm to his mouth, he'd hold the stick in between both ring and middle finger, taking a slow, and long drag in. With Lita off to his side, he'd simply stare down at the tombstone.
Lita was struck first by the memory of her first meetings with one of Frostmaw's champions. A most interesting and spuculous sort and the only undead she'd ever had the unpleasure to meet. Lita wasn't sure if he was still around, or if there were still master necromancer's around at all. She'd never associated so closely with the sort. "Hmm." She glanced around the empty graveyard. "Reckon that'll be a hard soul to find." She couldn't help a smirk. She'd even be civil and not ask why he would need such a skill. "But I'll help best I can. If you do something for me." She didn't wait for an answer, just turned on her heel and headed towards the northeast. With her back to the stranger, she let her smile fade and rubbed at her temple. Damn headache.
Ezekiel stood there, alone in the silent graveyard, unsure of which path to take; the one back into town, where a nice warm tavern rest. Or the mysterious 'help' he could possibly offer. For all he knew, she could have been sent by Hanan, to off him on the spot, retribution for the harassment he'd given her the night before. Pulling out a pocket watch, he'd smirk at the time, and quietly trail in her wake. "Help, you say?" There was a bit of amusement painted on his face, a smirk of his own taken instead." If it were a trap, he'd be in over his head, but that was just a part of his clumsy nature.
Lita really should learn how to read minds. Her world would be so much more amusing. She'd probably applaud him for being one of the few who could successfully harrass Hanan and live to tell the tale. She nodded at his question of helping her. "The something I'm looking for. I need your help-- Well, someone's help. You're just here." She rubbed at her temple again. "And this headache is killing me. I can hardly think, let alone be mad at all the damned snow." She shook her head lightly. "There're ruins of an old temple ahead. I need you to get the inscriptions for me." Of course, she didn't mean that she wanted him to cart out sections of the stone walls for her. But she had a way of being precisely vague with the things she wanted.
Ezekiel blinked. Hell, one could have even sworn the lenses to his goggles even blinked. "Interesting. And just how may I be of service, in obtaining these inscriptions for you?" The man scratched at the five o' clock stubble along his jaw, stepping more so along the side of her, rather behind. So far, he had no qualms with the task (should he take it or not), just questions.
Lita only grinned at the Kit's questions. The blinking goggles -whether they blinked or not- weren't surprising to her. The man only proved more and more to be the Fox's doppleganger. The frozen flowers that lined the path from the graveyard soon turned to broken huts. A glance this way and that revealed them long since abandoned but the feeling of being watched was unmistakable. Frostmaw was ruttin' creepy. "You can write, can't you?" There was a coy grin tugging across her lips, despite her best efforts to be nice. "Pencil, paper. You have eyes, don't you? You can use those goggles as more than just pretty little things that make your head useful, yeah?" She shook her head, drew in a deep breath. "I just need a copy of them, is all."
Ezekiel kept his hands tucked deep within his pockets, and his eyes on the path ahead. The huts they passed left him with an uneasy feeling, something far too familiar. An obsessive compulsive, it wasn't unusual for him to go countless nights without sleep or rest; the shadows- the eyes, always watching, always there. He'd gotten much better about it, even if he had to resort to drinking his ass off, till he couldn't do anything -but- sleep. The hypocrite; and here had given Hanan so much crap for being an alcoholic. "Parchment, Ink, Naturally. Where would I be without one." Taking a moment to shake his head, he'd clear his thoughts, before continuing. "And if that's all you need, then I don't see why I can't help. Besides, no one can concentrate with a splitting headache." He wouldn't pry about the headache, not yet at least.
Lita nodded. "Good. Granted, I don't know what's down there. There are stories, but, I doubt you'd believe them. Frost giants are all tall tales and legend anyway. They're probably not true." She gave a little shrug. They came upon a bridge. It looked as if it might collapse if one were to breathe on it a little too strongly. Lita didn't hesitate. "There are two staircases once you get inside." She was still talking about the ruins, even as she began to pick her way over the broken planks of the bridge. "You should take the one to your left once you're in there. It looks more foreboding. Darker, smells kind of funny." She turned west towards the little platform that biseced the bridge and paused for a moment to allow the Kit to catch up. "There's this perpetually tormenting howling sound through the whole place but it's just the wind." She was almost certain of the fact. She'd only been down there once, days before. But between the headaches she could scarcely concentrate let alone pay attention to what she was doing. She fished a little leather bound journal from the inside pocket of her coat and handed it over to him. "Whatever you do, don't die." There, see, very un-cryptic of her. "I really need those inscriptions and trying to find someone willing to help me in Frostmaw is like trying to find someone willing to help me in Frostmaw." She made a face at that and managed a little smile that touched the corners of her eyes.
21:25, 23 May 2012 (UTC)21:25, 23 May 2012 (UTC)21:25, 23 May 2012 (UTC)21:25, 23 May 2012 (UTC)~
Ezekiel sat with his back against a large, fallen chunk of stone, a small campfire sending tall shadows to dance around its radius. The fire was weak, but functional; given the tools he had on his person, it didn't take much to build some warmth. So when and if the woman whose name didn't catch, decided to come strolling along, he'd be easy to find. Though, the sight wouldn't be pretty. Black and blue, the man sat leaning up against a rock, mostly because he couldn't sit upright himself. Covered in a series of dark bruises, small cuts, and a few lacerations to the back of his head, he looked more like a crime scene than anything. With his left eye nearly swollen shut, and a large bump on his cheek poking out, he'd simply thumb through the journal, trying to decipher the inscriptions both in curiosity, and boredom. He was going to give her one hell of a story; Ezekeil was -not- going to tell her he simply slipped and fell down a large flight of stairs.
Lita had only felt slightly bad about leaving Ezekiel at that ruined shrine. But his job would've taken the rest of the day's light and a bit of the coming night. She figured it wouldn't've hurt to trek back to the tavern for a bottle or two for him. She ought to thank him properly, after all. Besides, enough of Frostmaw's mead, she'd found, could dull the throbbing in her head to a mere ache. She was sauntering past the bridge when she saw the little fire he'd built and her steps faultered slightly when she saw he was thumbing through the journal. A moment of panic washed through her, registered and then eased away as quickly as it had come. Most of the journal was filled with notes about the amulet she'd been searching for for the last few weeks. Luckily, she was untrusting of everyone about everything. So the journal was written in multiple languages, a series of codes, scribbled with doodles and equations. Often various languages ran together in the same passages. It would be a jumble of jargon to anyone trying to decipher it- possibly painfully so. The thought brought a little smirk to her lips as she came up behind him. She didn't notice the bruising on him at first, not until she'd rounded the fire and the flames cast an eerie glow across his features. The smile she wore faded and she knelt aside him, reached a hand out without asking and touched his chin gently, lifted his face to see the wounds better. Dark eyes flickered over his features in what was almost worry. "You're hurt." It wasn't a question. She handed him a bottle of mead and rummaged through her bag 'til she found the little jar of salve she carried with her. "Did you get them?" she asked as she twisted open the jar.
Ezekiel glanced up. Now, to be one hundred percent, completely fair, he had only flipped through the pages in which he had filled. So even if her work hadn't been safely secured behind a complex wall of code, its contents would have been untouched anyways. As an inventor, he himself had page after page of secretive, complex blueprints, that held his life's work; the respect was mutual there. So when she came rounding the corner, Ezekiel did his best to sit up, and look proper. "Bandits, filthy lot. I fought off as many as I could, but in the end, they were too much. Luckily, I guarded it with my life~" He grinned- teeth stained with blood, while holding out the journal; quite the charmer he was (this is to be read with a tone holding little to no enthusiasm what so ever). Even if it was a clumsy slip down a flight of stairs, he questioned this jobs worth in the end.
Lita couldn't help but smile at his story. She wasn't sure if she believed it or not. There would be more evidence, perhaps. Footprints, for one. They were in snow, after all. But she wouldn't say anything. She'd let him have it. She took the little book, held it for a moment and then tucked it safely away in her coat pocket. When she spoke again, her words were soft and sincere. "Thank you." She tilted his head to the side so she could see the cuts at the back of his head. "You're bleeding." She dipped a finger in the salve she held and spread it across the cuts. It was green and smelled a bit like honey. "They must've been a terrible lot. I'm glad you made it out alive. It would have been awful tragedy if they left you for dead down there." She turned his face again and with a delicate touch, spread green gunk around his swollen eye and bruised cheek. She closed the jar again and handed it to him. "You keep that. It quickens the healing process." There was a moment of silence and she looked over his campfire. "Are you camping here for the night or do you want to try and make it to the tavern?" If there were bandits, it might not be the safest thing to be camping out in the open.
Ezekiel almost threw his fingers up in a half-assed cross, a poor reaction to being touched; good intentions or not. Often times, he wondered if he was truly haphephobic. Other times, he wondered if he was just that socially awkward. Either way, he'd wince for all the wrong reasons when Lita came in to smear the salve on his beaten skin, though she wouldn't catch that. He hoped. "I'd likely freeze to death out here." Fictional bandits aside, Ezekiel painfully pocketed the jar, and slid his back up against the stone, till he was hanging forward on the tip of his feet. Oh how it hurt to stand up straight right now. "The tavern for me. Yourself?"
Lita caught the little wince but didn't say anything about it. She stood alongside him and kicked some dirt over the campfire. The flames sizzled out into a little plume of smoke. Satisfied that the thing wasn't going to reignite itself, she glanced back over the the Kit. "You really do look like shyte, you know?" She was smiling at that. "But yeah, the tavern's probably better. If we get jumped by those bandits out here, I don't want to have to worry about your butt." She was poking fun, honest. "So are you going to tell me your name or do I really have to call you Kit?"
Ezekiel knew he looked like hell, and knew his story didn't check out for crap. Still, as long as they were going with it, what little pride he did have, was left intact. To her last question, he'd simply reply, "Eze, although I like how the other one rustles your friends feathers." Somewhere along the hike, he'd show her the tip of his tongue, and the crude stitching that served as the missing flesh, compliments of a Hanan uppercut. Other than that, not much was said for the remainder of the trip, at least until he found himself trudging heavily through the front door of the tavern. 'Note to self- start your search for the necromancer, on a tropical island.'
Lita would agree to enjoying the fact that calling him Kit ruffled Hanan's feathers. The thought made her smile. Lita winced at seeing his tongue. Gross. Her only comment would be that it was probably his own fault, knowing Hanan. Lita followed Eze into the tavern and pointed him towards the far end of the large booth lining the walls. She made her way to the bar and snagged two glasses. "Eze, hm?" she said as she joined him at the table and slid a glass in his direction. He still had that bottle of mead, after all. He also had an odd name. But she wasn't one to judge on that front. She was itching to take the journal out and scour through the notes he'd taken. The little book was burning a hole through her pocket, taunting her. She shifted in her seat. "Can I ask why you're searching for a necromancer?"
Ezekiel said, "To raise a personal armor of the undead, tactically slaughter the denizens of Frostmaw, and its neighboring towns, and eventually, unleash an ancient.." He trailed off, splitting the mead between the two glasses. "No. No not really. I just had some questions is all~" Smartass. "Though, I wouldn't blame anyone for assuming that much. Not ever day you seek a dark mage's company." Poking tenderly at the swollen bump at his cheek, he'd just look away, and scratch his jaw; the sound of nails across stubble was the only noise he made for quite some time. Almost like scratching Velcro.
Lita blinked at Eze with sudden untirest in his 'raising of an undead hell army' story. Yeah, that was original. She rolled her eyes playfully and took her glass after he'd filled it. She wasn't a huge fan of the stuff but she downed it anyway. The headache rolled over in her head, sated for a moment. Lita shrugged slightly. "You do, apparently." Teasing. "What kinds of questions, anyway? Are you a practitioner of the same magics?" At the prospect, she was suddenly a bit more interested.
Ezekiel shook his head. "Not quite.. my talents lie.. elsewhere." Glancing down, he'd slide the glass away, and simply stare at his hands. They looked like any other ordinary pair of gloves, thin and form fitting, except for the large circular contraption resting in the dead middle of each palm. Exhaling quietly, he'd reach up and tear the goggles from off his forehead, and drop them against the table. "I just had questions, mostly a biproduct of some extensive theory crafting I've been up to as of late." Holding two fingers up, he'd make a general 'peace' sign, while letting a small arc of raw, magical energy leap in between each gloved finger; it looked almost like raw electricty, though hardly the case. "Although, I bet with a big enough current.. I could rival the workings of a necromancer." He joked, of course.
Lita laid her right arm on the table and settled her chin on her arm. She stared at his glass of mead, watching the liquid slosh about as he spoke. Her gaze flickered towards the goggles as he set them on the table and she reached her left arm across the table, tapping the headgear absent-mindedly with her index finger. They weren't quite the Fox's. But they made her miss the tinkerer all the same. She exhaled a little sigh and returned her attentions to Eze as that little skip of electricity flitted across his fingers. Her eyes lit up slightly. She wasn't a big fan of harmful magics. But she rather enjoyed the parlor tricks. "Theory crafting?" The idea of that made her brain hurt even more. "You're an electromancer, then?" The question was almost a breath as she exhaled it. She'd never met one, or even heard of one, outside of the books she read.
Ezekiel quarked his lips up in the corner, while raising an eyebrow. "Not exactly. Well- not entirely. The simplicity of the form is know, those excecution is still more or less null." See, Ezekiel was born a mage- the blood of a magic user flowed through his veins. However, the price of such a gift, wasn't without its dues. Plagued by a rare disease, he was denied the privllige of using said talent; to put it simple, stunted mana. Like a firewall, any of that natural essence was blocked from any, and all use, a thust, rendering him a simple man. "Technically, without my device, use of any magic is a waste of time." He'd have to explain this as quick, and easily as possible. "Like a bridge, this-" He said pointing to the circular ring in the center of his palm, "Acts as a bridge. Simply letting me draw from my body's natural source of mana. Although, even still it's not entirely under my control. At best, it can be held for a short period of time, albeit unstable, but useable." Again he'd let a small arc spark in between both index fingers, before fizzling out. "It essentially acts as electricty, for most of my contraptions, only.. with a little more 'kick'." Magical kick.
Lita wanted nothing more than the take out one of her little books and start scribbling down all these weird little things about him. Uh huh, uh huh, how interesting... scribble scribble... no, go on, I'm listening... doodles pictures... She shook her head lightly at the thought. No, she'd be good. She could write about it later. Left hand moved from the goggles to the palm of his hand, where she traced the little circle with her index finger. "How strange." But in an interesting way, not a condemning one. "What do you do with it?" She couldn't very well see Eze locked away in a shop somewhere repairing old toasters with the smack of an 'electric' hand. (Because Hollow has toasters.) "I mean, do you build things?" Wait, that could be creepy, like Ranok's 'living armour' thing that had chased her away from his manor. She almost shuddered at the thought. She definitely shied away from him. She pulled her hand back and sat up, tucked her hands into her lap.
Ezekiel wasn't one for sharing 'too' much of his personal life, but she did help him out earlier with the salve- and was offering her aid in finding that special skill set he needed. "I do- er, I did. Technically-" He paused. "It's complicated." Taking a deep breath, while retracting his hand, he'd curl both into a ball, and rest them under his chin. "When father finally realized I wasn't getting into the college, he more or less disowned me on the spot. From there, I simply left home- took an interest in a local watchmakers craft. One thing led to anther, and before I knew it, Id become a full fledge apprentice under that same local." For the first time, he'd take a sip at the mead, smacking his lips together; he'd trade this in soon for a glass of something a little more dry. "As you can imagine, the market for watches isn't as lively as one would assume. You're left with a lot of time on your hands.. You grow restless. Your fingers itch, the urge to tinker with something so small and intricate.. Just." With a shrug, Ezekiel would slump down in his seat.
Lita wondered for a moment if there wasn't a soul out there that hadn't left home at some point. But she supposed, if there were, none of them would have ended up here. She shrugged idly at the thought. Watches, huh? She'd never owned one, herself. But she'd seen enough to know they weren't all that interesting. A few gears, a few numbers... She tapped the gears and cogs that covered the leather bracelet she wore on her right wrist. Some of them had probably come from watches, though she didn't have the eye to tell which ones. She knew which ones the Fox had rigged to spin though. She sent one of them spinning and glanced back to Eze. "I don't think anyone would make the assumption that the market for watches was lively." Lita grinned at him. "More of a tinkerer, then." And goggles. The Fox would definitely like this one. "So what do you like to make?" She was trying to figure how all of this tied back to needing a necromancer, but she hadn't caught the connections yet.
Ezekiel sat back up, his back popping as he did; he was going to sleep good tonight. Ok, scratch that- no. No he wasn't, being the obsessive compulsive he was, he'd never sleep till his project was finished, metaphorically speaking. "That.. That's a little confidential at this moment. Help me find that necromancer, and I'd be glad to share then~" An incentive. "And yes. A tinker. You got me." Arms held up guiltily, he couldn't help but crack a subtle grin. "Here." Reaching in, he'd reach for a small, lopsided ball of metal, and roll it awkwardly her way. If she chose to take a look, it would simply uncurl before her, showing its self for the wired little ferret it was; perhaps his one and only friend to date! "Weapons. Protection. Toys. Whatever tickles my fancy."
Lita nodded at his shield of confidentiality. She could understand that. And see, there was a chance she could find out after all. She just had to find a necromancer. How creepy. She grinned at that. Now she definitely had to find one. Her curiosity would kill her otherwise. She snatched up the bottle of mead and poured herself another glass, which was promptly swallowed. The ache in her head grew a little more distant and she breathed a satisfied sigh as she settled back into her seat. Until he reached into his coat. Then her fingers twitched towards the little dagger she kept sheathed at her thigh. Only when he rolled the little ball towards her did she relax again. And what the-- She stopped the thing's momentum with the tap of a finger and then tapped it a few more times for good measure. Until it started moving. Then she was recoiling from the thing as if it had taken a chunk out of her finger with clockwork teeth. She would have screamed, but that would have been awfully uncharacteristic of her. Instead, she blinked at the thing. "I wish Mal was around to eat it." She said, without thinking. Luckily for the little ferret thing, as soon as Lita mentioned snow, Mal climbed a tree and hid behind the tree-hugger. What a brainless bunch those two were. Sheesh. Feeling a little braver, Lita stuck her hand out again and tapped the ferret's head expirementally before tearing her hand away again. At least it didn't bite her. "Does it, uh, have a name? I mean, it's kinda cute, I guess." No worse than a mini-metal-dragon that could breathe fire.
Ezekiel shook his head. "N-no. Oddly. It doesn't." So he was a procrastinator when it came to putting the finishing polish on his work, we all had our faults. "Relax, it's harmless." While he sat there, a steady, gradual pounding soon made its way into his own head. He was surprised he wasn't concuss from the fall earlier; he hit those stairs pretty hard. "It's getting late.. Perhaps we could continue this chat another time?" Truth be told, his social anxiety was just catching up to him. Never had he really gone this in depth with conversation, let alone with either a stranger, -or- someone of the opposite sex; embarrassing, yes.
Lita looked up from the little creation and nodded with a smile. "Of course. I'm sorry. I probably should have let you get some rest when we get back." She fished a few coins from her bag and laid them on the table's edge to cover the bottles she'd swiped earlier. Heh. "Make sure you add some of that salve in the morning, okay? It will help." She stood from her seat and headed for the stairs. "And I'll let you know when I find one." A necromancer, that was. And it was 'when', not 'if'. And with that she was disappearing up the stairs to a room and a bed that awaited her return. (Hanan assures me that despite what the room description may have you believe, there really are stairs. And rooms at the top of them.)