RP:Wyrm Suspects Queen

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary: Dyraxdiin and Josleen separately travel to the Chapel of Pleasure for the same reason: to investigate why this structure was left standing after the earthquake when all its neighbors collapsed. Ameno is already there enjoying a massage. Ameno's scales are badly cut and he explains that after a misunderstanding with Kreekitaka, Ameno cut off his own tail and let the uyeer whip him with it.

Diin and Josleen discuss likely suspects and Diin questions Josleen. He believes she's a good suspect, given how close she is to Frostmaw. When he sees that the Queen indeed loves the King, he wonders if the King (who is totally unlovable) bewitched her.

Chapel of Pleasure

Dyraxdiin is a creature of ancient rites and long-forgotten formalities. He is of a brood borne to honor and branded by unwavering vigilance of those that have been, that are and those who will be. He fancies himself a dignified creature; a great wyrm never lacking in apparent hubris, if you will. So imagine his surprise when he stumbles upon this... place. While looking through Larket, all he has seen is destruction - complete and utter disgregard for life and property. So twice, the mage is confounded. His feet come to an abrupt halt, half-robes to flag against the wind at the threshold while he silently appraises this... chapel of pleasure. The stained-glass windows are a lovely touch, the masonry simple yet somehow just appropriate.... He fails to keep from peering, blue-eyes dancing, about at the -things- this place holds. The ever-curious dragon, Diin completes his journey into the chapel and proceeds to take a look around. Brown hair disheveled from the wind, half robes showing the glint of metal beneath, jaw open in curiosity. How is it... that this place is still standing? The gods, were they to be beings of justice, would surely destroy this place in an earthquake, wouldn't they? What a prude!

Josleen has only visited this Chapel once since the earthquake. On her last visit, she was with the King, her husband. Today she is with the Prince, her poodle. Ah, Gigi, Prince Pooch, gentledog, noble canine, young and loyal, alert at all times (mostly for squirrels) and gifted with a keen eye for the details ignored by his two-legged parents (e.g. discarded hotdogs, fragrant cat droppings, sticks to fetch). Gigi runs ahead of the Queen, excited by the scent of cat-women (aka felines of the dancing cadre of delisha worshippers). He greets them all snout first, right into their crotches. Yes, cat-women! What a day! But what’s this? Lizard-man! He bounds over to Dyraxdiin and presses his snout excitedly to the wyrm’s honorable and prudish groin. Sniff sniff sniff, yes, quite the bouquet. Queen Josleen follows behind her poodle, and is flanked by four royal guards. She hesitates at the Chapel’s entrance. The earthquake’s miraculous mercy for this place feels sinister, and she briefly wonders if coming here was wise. Nothing has happened here since the earthquake, and the bard, motivated by a need to find answers, decides to enter despite her misgivings. She smiles apologetically to all those assaulted by Gigi’s nose. To Dyraxdiin she says, “I hope he isn’t a bother.”

Ameno lay upon one of the massage beds while he was shirtless his slender figure exposed, his back was a mess of scars and also a scar cut horizontially across his left rib were a knife had entered. Wingless he was now, because of wounds recieved at the saurian gate, and now even lacked a tail thanks to his incompetence in comprehending what the uyeer had asked of him, but he born the punishment and had saved his business relationship. Now he felt the pressing of the felines paws into his back, and realizing that he need air from the rich scents of the room, he arose, telling the feline he would return shortly, but he desired a breath of fresh air, walking out the door he leaned against the door frame his pants being the only thing that covered him, He was different color now, his formerly white scales changed to a dark blue thanks to saurian magic, and his eyes from grey to icy blue they had become. He turned his gaze upon a familiar face, and then another he had met at the sinkhole, the queen of larket nonetheless. He lowered his head but dared not to bow, for the muscles in his back had only been lightly sewn together, and strain may cause more tearing. "Your highness, hello old friend, what troubles you today?"

Dyraxdiin is accosted by a dog! What manner of...! Just as he is about to decide whether or not to kick the thing right in the kisser, he hears the reassuring voice of Josleen. Ah, yes. The noble dog. It is regarded with a gentle pat to the head instead of a swift kick, as he turns to greet its parent. "It is... not a problem," He quickly regains his easy manner, despite the crotch-sniffing and the... services of this chapel. Diin bows deeply, the same refined bow he has performed time and again. The royal guard is largely ignored in favor of the other patron, Ameno. They had met before in Cenril and again on the front lines in the swamp. It was Dyraxdiin who had relayed the information to the Warriors Guild about where the Draconian had been taken. He can't help but feel a bit of joy to see that his kin, regardless of brood or apparent half-race, is still among the living. Ameno is regarded with a nod of his head in greeting as well. "Curious..." He trails off, his attention shifting back to the structure of the chapel once more.

Josleen blinks at Ameno in surprise, her head rearing back as if to get a better look at him. Her nose screws upwards when he calls her ‘old friend’. They met a few weeks ago, once, briefly, at the sinkhole that opened up near the river. This fellow was strange then, and strange now. Then again, draconians and dragons, what could one expect? It’s always a gamble with dragons. Some are lovely, some are stuffy, some are nutty, some are evil, and they exist in every shade in between. “Ameno, is that right? What happened?” She looks over his scars and stitching. “Did this happen here? In Larket?” She notices that Dyraxdiin seems to recognize Ameno and asks Ameno, gesturing at Dyraxdiin, “A companion of yours?”

Ameno paused as the queen had asked a senstive question. To be honest he had lost far more than his wings and gained mere scarring he had lost his frosty breath and had lost his supercool blood, his scales had darkened, there just seemed to be no end to what he had endured, "Some was obtained in larket, but it was to resolve a business partner's wrath, my other wounds I recieved from the Saurian crisis and the time I was in there care."

Dyraxdiin turns back just as Ameno finishes his answer to Josleens question. He moves closer to the pair, but leaves enough room out of respect for their relative unfamiliar terms. "I am called Dyraxdiin. I assisted the Warriors Guild in halting the Saurian threat in Venturil." He glances to Ameno for a moment, blue-eyes to shift back to Josleen, "That is how I know the Draconian." He fills in Josleens question for Ameno, instead deciding to take advantage of this serendipitous meeting with the Queen. Macon seems wild and dangerous to Dyraxdiin, while the Queen seems to have a bit more sense about her. Perhaps she might have answers.

Josleen ‘s brows alight as she recognizes the name Dyraxdiin. “Ah, a pleasure. The King mentioned you.” He bowed to her, so he clearly knows who she is. “A pleasure.” She nods as both mention the Saurian crisis, of which the Queen is only vaguely aware. Larket’s recent troubles have drawn her attention inward, and the outside world feels increasingly distant. In fact, of Ameno’s answer, she cares most about the part which pertains to Larket. A series of crisis and crime have the Queen constantly trying to anticipate the next problem, to preempt rather than react. “You endured this because of sour business negotiations?! Here in Larket?! We don’t tolerate that sort of brutality--not in civil society. What happened? Who did this to you?” Josleen came here to investigate the Chapel, like Dyraxdiin, but Ameno’s plight feels more immediate and her priorities temporarily shift

. Ameno more or less felt he had revealed more than he should have. But he did not speak falsely, "your higness, the matter was settled, during my tume visiting kree, in regards to the construction to be located at the sinkhole to bring business to this damaged land to save it, i in a misuderstanding of a feat of strength believed that the uyeer wished to know how far i could toss him, this being one of kree's uyeer brethern, i threw the uyeer a good 50' which caused grevious injury to the uyeer. Kree in his anger said that if he had been able he would have taken my tail and beat me with it. To still his rage, i cut my own tail from me, to offer him the right to whip me with my own tail, i neglected to mention that my tail was scales compared to my softer leathery skin, and for this my wounds are so severe, brutal it may have been, but in the end i took resoosibility for my actions." He bowed his head still feeling the pain in his back at that moment.

Dyraxdiin refrains from snorting in anger; an oft-used indiciation of the threat of attack, were he in his natural form. No, he is human today and will remain so. Amenos words are grimaced at instead. Diin's slumber did not cure him of his superiority complex entirely, even despite his amicable relationships with many of them. It is hard for the wyrm to understand that times have changed. Still he can't help but feel furious with Ameno for such an act of undeserved humility. Strength, while dangerous at times, is something to be proud of and display in his culture. "Have you been to a healer yet?" Is all he can offer, although is otherwise smooth tone is harshened with a touch of disdain.

Josleen || “Kreekitaka?” Josleen’s jaw clenches. Ameno claims he misunderstood the fashion crab, and who can blame the draconian? Kreekitaka’s accent is difficult. And from what she’s learned of Kreekitaka’s race, Ameno’s assumption of ‘feats of strength’ was a reasonable one [obligatory festivus joke]. She’s incensed that Kreekitaka would behave in this way, until she learns that Ameno cut off his own tail and gave it to Kreekitaka to flog him with. Oh. What? Oh. OH. This -must- be some BDSM thing. Josleen burns bright red. She clears her, smooths her dress, looks around the Chapel at nothing. The writhing dancers seem downright chaste in comparison to her assumption, which may, in large part, be racist. A draconian and space crab (source: Larketian Herald) engaged in some sordid roleplay makes sense if you’re a little racist. “I see. Well, if you are satisfied.” She burns a brighter shade of red as she realizes her word choice is perhaps suggestive given the “fact” [read: assumption] of Ameno’s relationship with Kreekitaka. She forces an over eager smile at Dyraxdiin’s question because it gives her face something better to do than grimace. She waits for Ameno to answer, then says, “If you don’t mind, Mr. Dyraxdiin, I’d like to ask for a moment of your time.”

Ameno listens to to the words of both and he recognizes the emtions in them and feels awkward. "The healers said they couldn't do more than sew the muscles, and try to apply banadages." He chose to step away for a bit as the queen seemed to to have a need of diin. Returning to the massage bed he groaned with oain as the feline returned to muscles in his back, all he had left was his strength if he lost that too, what food would he be to the guild? He thought.

Dyraxdiin makes a mental note to have words with the Draconian, to bring him around to the proper honor of their kind, to embrace his heritage. It may mean he must reveal himself to be more-than-human, but he can't help but feel a sense of kinship for the poor Draconian. He knows well the pangs of the past and the myriad of mistakes that come along with it. He watches Ameno return to the massage room before his attention moves back to Josleen in response to her statement. "My services are yours, Your Highness." He bows again in acquiesce, "I suspect we both have questions revolving around the same issue." The sheer fact this place stands is quite something, but no damage whatsoever. Perhaps Diin was right in his first assumption. In all of his years and his studies since reawakening, he could find no mention of a major earthquake. The answer is one of three: either the scholars who have recorded history are incompetent, Diin himself is for not finding it, or Larket -Triton- does not truely rest upon a major fault.

Josleen frowns sympathetically to Ameno. “Try Sabrina. Her skill as a healer is unparalleled. “ Once Ameno leaves, Josleen paces the chapel with Diin. Gigi, who had wandered off to sniff incense, returns and follows his mother and her acquaintance. “Indeed. My husband mentioned that you do not believe Larket lies on a fault?” Josleen shares her counter argument with Diin: Larket’s woods are bordered to the west by the ravine that separates the Sage Forest from the Xalious Mountain Range. Ravine and mountains are a feature of many fault lines. But indeed, it may have been eons since the last earthquake, and given Hollow’s war-speckled history, it’s not unlikely that records have been lost. Has Dyraxdiin checked Dwarven records? They tend to keep good record, and are closer to the earth. He may find something there. “Still,” she says as she cants her head to the side in concession to his larger point, “fault line or not, I do believe there is reason to suspect foul play. Kindling can burn, but not all fire on kindling is natural.” She drops her voice to a whisper and uses bardic magic to seal her voice around his ear so that none of it spills to potential eavesdroppers. “This building was spared, and yet the Chapel of Cyris was not? I do not believe this was the favor of Delisha. If there is foul play, then I suspect someone connected to the temple is responsible, or at least operated from here.”

Ameno over hears the words exchanged but holds his tongue, it could be the foundation he thought, many cults adopt a foundation in there buildings to give the impression they are immune from the effects of nature. But then proof would be needed. The feline stuck her claws into his back and dug into his back causing it to bleed. "Agh! How is this pleasurable?" She paused removing her claws and licking the blood. "It was pleasurable to me." Ameno grimaced at her words. Rising he arose and fetched his shirt.

Dyraxdiin walks alongside Josleen as he listens to her her words. He was right, she does seem to have a great deal of sense about her. The mage nods in response to her words, idly glancing over to a nearby bookshelf to take assessment of the titles therein. Words laced with the arcane, though spoken openly, are sealed to any one else save for Josleen. "I doubt the felines are involved - you must have someone else in mind?" He takes a deep breath, and regardless of her response, a blue-eyed gaze levels at the Queen as he dons a serious demeanor. "Do you have reason to bring misfortune to the King?" A reasonable question, considering who Josleen is. The tension between Frostmaw and Larket is nearly palpable. It is rather curious to Diin, that a woman from Frostmaw is suddenly in control of the enemy city, which is now tormented by the aftermath of an earthquake. Once made Queen, her identity became a thing of common-place conversation. His question should come as no surprise. And yet, the Dragon cannot help but harbor a suspicion towards her and therefore feels it only appropriate to rule her out as a suspect from the start.

Josleen also glances at the books on the shelf. Most of them, unsurprisingly, have to do with Delisha, bringing about pleasure in all forms, and a little about magic, mostly charm magic. She nods in agreement with Dyraxdiin's hunch that the felines are likely innocent. They have no apparent motive, and Larket is also their home. "No one in mind, no. I haven't the faintest clue. It's why I came here today, to see if I could find one--a clue that is." Then Diin suspects her and she narrows her gaze critically on him. How dare he. To Diin, the question and suspicion seems natural, but to Josleen, who exists in the space most intimate to the King, the question appears abruptly and rudely. "I would never. His my husband and my King." Indeed, Josleen's meteoric rise in Larket was sudden. She and the King had scarcely been acquainted more than a month when he proposed marriage for both political and personal reasons. Publicly, their marriage was pitched as pure politics. A King marries a Thane, and thereby forces an alliance between warring states. Secretly, however, Macon and Josleen engaged in a sordid and passionate affair, and the King, impulsive by nature and angered when Hildegarde took Josleen away from him, decided to lay claim to her by marrying her as quickly as possible. But who could possibly know that, aside from the royal couple? "If you ask me again I won't humor you so lightly." Beat. "Tell me, who is your next suspect."

Dyraxdiin smiles to the Queen, and even goes so far as to chuckle. He shrugs now, off-handedly suggesting it matters little, her response. Even if those final words are a veiled threat, Diin makes a mental note to keep an eye on her. And the King. "As you say then, he is your King." After all, the mage would never expect a person involved in something this grand to ever spill the beans, as it were, so easily. But if she isn't involved... Who, then? "The Academy of Magic. Any leftover advisors to the previous King. Powerful worshippers of Delisha. The filth lurking beneath Larket." He lists each with little emphasis, simply reading off a checklist of those he feels are worth looking into next. Really, to the dragon, they're all suspects.

Josleen nods at the list. "The fermin is a good place to start. They were allied to the Fallen Paladin Kelovath and may still be carrying out his wishes. And..." She blushes a little and glances away in embarrassment. "The earthquake happened on my wedding day, and Kelovath and I were once... romantically involved." If Dyraxdiin does a little more digging he will discover an old deed to a massive estate in Larket's north western quadrant, not far from here. The deed was in both Kelovath and Josleen's names. "I didn't know at the time he was an evil man capable of great atrocities. He fooled me, like he fooled all of Larket, and King Macon showed me the way, same as he showed the City." She smiles at mention of her husband. Gigi licks a mystery substance off the floor.

Dyraxdiin nods his head to the mention of the fermin being a good place to start. He doesn't know them beyond the books he has read, but finds them repulsive nonetheless. To him, it would not be a surprise if they had a hand in this mess. They live beneath Larket, they would more than likely know something about it all. Dyraxdiin finds himself adjusting his robes at the shoulder, made uncomfortable by the womans zeal about her newfound love. A pause, slight indication of hesitation. That is odd. Her affection for Macon, it is quite profound. Dyraxdiin met the King. He is not a man many, if any, would love. Has she been spelled? The mage smooths out his robes to keep a grimace from spreading out upon his otherwise placid feature. This whole place is a damned mess the wyrm would rather not get involved in. He reminds himself he is here for the people of Larket and the well-being of Lithrydel; if this woman needs his help too... "I will begin my investigation with the Fermin and continue to look for information regarding earthquakes in the area." The mage bows low to the Queen of Larket once more, "I do not wish to absorb any more of your time. Might you find peace this night, Your Highness."

Oblivious to Diin's opinion that Macon is an unlovable brute who has bewitched her, Josleen bids Dyraxdiin a good evening. "Take care. Do keep the King and I abreast of developments. Don't hesitate to ask any question." She nods when he bows then turns to leave the chapel, passing Ameno on her exit. "Gigi," she calls over her shoulder. The poodle bounds after her. "Have a good evening, Sir Ameno. I hope you recover quickly."

Ameno nodded to the queen as she left. "see you around Diin."