RP: A Proper Patronage

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Summary: Lanlan gives Ina a Job, and displays the perks of unpaid labour/students. Also, there's some stupidity involving Salamanders, for Alchemy/crafting Purposes.

Ruined Castle, Cenril

Last time Lanlan and Arlyeon hung out, "Trish" helped the illusionist fraud his way back into the Mage's Guild that just banished him. What a mistake! He didn't hold them to it though. But the time before that, Trish showcased some of her amazing works of craftsmanship. A small lantern powered by a fire pixie, and a very special umbrella. These unique artifacts were special, powerful, one of a kind. Just like Lanlan! So he decided he needed one, and invites Arlyeon to his castle in Cenril.

Yes, it has a death curse on it, and Arlyeon might feel like dookie upon entering, but Lanlan asked Gevie to carve out a special sanctuary in the castle just for him. This sanctuary is composed of four rooms. A large conference room, with a massive rectangular table that's been pushed to the side, and several cots. Temporary bedding for his guests. The other room is a bedroom that's only for him and none of anyone's business. And of course, there are two bathrooms. One for Lanlan and one for everybody else.

The conference room is populated by a half-dozen baby mages and the wife of Lanlan's nemesis, Ialantha. She took over the role of librarian in the Mage's Guild before it imploded, and now she was something like a part-time teacher. But she wasn't here very often. This was her first time in Cenril, and she needed to take in the sights! But when she was here, she worked to prepare the students for the battle that was no-doubt imminent.

This room is where Lanlan would take Trish. He had no idea how safe he was, and on the surface, this was his fortress, the curse an implicit defence against intruders, living things, and especially undead things. "I want to hire you, Trish!" Lanlan congratulates her, as if bestowing upon her a knighthood. What an honour to be asked a favour by Lanlan! "A master of magic such as myself needs a masterwork of a weapon. You're the one person whose sense of power and style comes close to matching my own."

Ina's been having a hell of a time at home lately, if only because the hunk of Phoenix metal she's been working on has taken to slowly trying to ooze its way out from where she'd stashed it in the fireplace. It's been bad enough that she even had to hire a babysitter of sorts, a down-on-their-luck drow in need of a steady gig. The instructions had been brain-dead simple, 'prod it back in place if you smell smoke'. No dice, really- though less because she had a burnt-down house, and more because her house sitter had died in some sort of freak accident that had gotten the metal all over his forearms and face. Who would have thought? Anyways, that's why she's shown up to the castle wearing a pair of heavy leather smithing gloves, and wielding a stone coffer full of angry molten metal.

Though, obviously, given who she's going to see- she's at least taking some effort to look presentable, given she's shown up in finely tailored burgundy pants, and a snazzy carmine dress vest that happens to have enough pockets in the sleeves and inside jacket for all of her card sharking needs. There's also that umbrella of hers strapped to her back- but frankly, she's still got to figure out getting a proper dye job done on it. The point is, minus her unfortunate burdens, she's looking pretty good- which helps to cover up just how much she doesn't feel good while arriving on the premise, or as she follows on his heels. When she reaches the conference room, she finds herself pausing to take in the mostly new faces, though one seems potentially familiar from when she'd wandered the halls of the guild. "...Ja didn't tell me you had minions. Niiiiiice." That bit of deplorable appreciation aside, the foxkin takes in her current partner in crimes spiel with an air of- well, whilst she's trying to maintain a grain of salt about what he says, she does look a bit pleased. "I'm not sayin' no, since I like ja style- but I want more details 'n that, ja know?"

Lanlan glanced over at his 'minions' with slight disdain. "Shh..." As assets to help him avenge himself, they were fine. In the field. As people with tedious feelings and needs, he hated them. "Ignore them or they'll start asking for things. Just look away. Look away..." Lanlan does, turning his back to them, and leaning a gloved hand on Ina's shoulder to encourage her to do the same. The sound of his voice, his proximity, or both seemed to agitate the material in the container. "YyyOoOW! Whao!" He stares angrily into Ina, who looks innocent enough, and then toward the box, which just now seemed to shudder and calm down. "What is that," he demands as he gingerly rolls up his sleeve and retreats a few steps. Slightly raised blisters, he could see it was going to look worse soon. "That really hurt! Why are you walking around with something like that? Take that into my house?" He shakes his head, looking more disappointed than wounded. He considers getting some of the apprentices to reverse the damage or soothe it. He needed a break from them. "Anyway what more details could you need? Something befitting a man of my station, something that others would only DREAM of." Lanlan had no idea what he needed. He didn't actually need anything. Just a symbol that others would envy would suffice.

Ina is tempted to continue looking at the minions- if only because people asking for things tend to translate to- people who can be profited from. That said, given that Lanlan had a nose for money, that likely translated to more ephemeral wants, or things like Justice. And quite frankly, he'd probably also take some degree of issue with her conning people right in front of him, if he was both not privy to the profit, and left dealing with the aftermath.

That said, when the box abruptly grows agitated, she matches his look of anger with one of perplexity. "Well. It's tha' lantern, albeit with somma' that 'Essence Of Phoenix' hammered right in there. Which, uh, is maybe why I oughta' say it's somethin' closer to, what's left o' the lantern. Thing fussed itself right into a pile of perpetually molten metal, and I'm still tryna figure that one out." That revelation aside, the foxkin just tilts her head forward to eye Lanlan's wound, more out of curiosity towards how much heat the stone container had managed to accumulate, "...Yeesh." Oh, right, but business. "Is it a short term contract in the form of an as-of-yet-defined weapon, or somethin' like a longer term contract, involving multiple pieces. That, and I will admit, I do always have a fondness for hearing what the baseline details of payment may be- though obviously seem adjustments may need to be made, dependin' on both the materials you'll be needing, and the properties sought out. Ja know, the finer points- though I certainly would appreciate your most magnanimous patronage." Whether that's a legitimate declaration, or some degree of snark - the happy-go-lucky tone only makes it trickier to parse.

||While Trish was talking, one of the apprentices came up to them. "Mr. Lanlan? Please help us. I know you've done so much for us already, but we just need some food. Water." Lanlan merely paused and blinked. Almost like that could make young human go away. He didn't. "Fine. We'll be back with something. Please, just distract yourselves with some of the books Ialantha brought with her. Try to learn something. When I come back we'll go over it." Reluctantly he looks back to Trish. She shouldn't see him accommodating others like this. No one should. It was bad for his image. "Let's just go," he says. "Oh this is what's left of that phoenix? Yeah that'll do fine, make me something out of that. A walking stick, a crook, something that says 'royalty'...' power'." Then he regards her and the inquisition into payment, thinking of how to balance the need to keep her to himself while not appearing like a sap. "I'll pay you more than you've ever been paid," he said with confidence, believing she'd never been paid very much anyway. "I'll fund your experiments, whatever you need. Because I'm facing two of the greatest threats this world has ever faced, don't forget that! This isn't for me, nono! it's for the entire world. Yourself included." That was a good line, compelling. To anyone else, maybe, but he hadn't gotten any clues as to what Trish actually cares about. Other than money. "But let's go to the bank. And how do you plan to fix this metal?"

Ina is on her best behaviour here, her lips pursed shit with a fierce intensity, so as not to try and exploit the humble apprentice before herself. It's bad enough, really, that she actually lets out a small huff of relief when Lanlan deigns to address the mook himself. Still, it's not long til she's got his attention anew- and this time with a bit of direction to boot, "Mm. A kingly stave of sorts. Mmkay." But she can think on that later- the promise of payment, however nebulous, sounds fairly appealing- especially if he's going to fund just the simple experimental ideas that crop into her mind. There's still that pixie, after all. Really, it's this line that had her hooked, given her attention seems to drift at the more lofty ideals pertaining to the world. After all, world-saving -isn't- her problem, and there's always someone else to sort it out. "Arright. Well, long as we also got a workspace for those experiments ta boot, it's a deal." That said, if they are heading off now- well, "Oh, uh- " She's looking over at the apprentice that had just finished addressing lanlan. What's the politer version of minion? Servant? Vassal? "You there. I'd be happy to keep an eye out fer somethin' ja need. But- Imma need someone, or someones, ta keep an eye on this box. Stick it somewhere not so flammable, and use these mitts. I'll snag it back later." That also likely serves as an answer to the short-term fix to the metal, although, "Well- right now it's both a bit too hot ta' handle- and whilst the malleability is nice- there's more that can be done with it. So I'm aimin' ta hunt down a salamander, or somethin' like it. And a slime." Because that obviously answers everything.

||"A kingly stave, exactly right." The apprentice reluctantly takes the box from Ina while looking to Lanlan for guidance. "Just keep it away from the table. You'll be fine." As to Ina's need for a workspace, well, he simply gestured around himself. It kept Ina where he wants her. And there wasn't even anything to steal yet! Once he got Gevie to expand the sanctuary it would be perfect. Lanlan was notably quiet on the way outside again. Death curses were a weakness of his. Every other living thing too, but he had a fairly fragile constitution, and going through it again so soon took its toll. Worth it to get away from the apprentices though. They come around the corner, and Lanlan sees a door. He can't keep it in anymore, he throws a hand up to his mouth and starts rapidly striding to the door, slamming it open, leaning over the side of the railing outside, and barfs into the sea. "I need to finish these renovations," he groans, "it's too much for one person to do." While he lets Ina finish her list of tasks, he wipes his mouth, throws his gloves into the sea, and slides on a new pair. "Salamander? Slime?" Was she joking? "When and where will you get those."

Ina is busy contemplating the intricacies of having a castle workspace, amongst which is 'Would that make it a lair?'. It's definitely a train of thought that cues a broad grin on her face, though she avoids getting too far ahead of herself- and continues to follow along after him- with maybe a bit more haste when they get back to the spots that hearkens a feeling of mortal dread. "So, hypothetically- if someone, like, tripped 'n clonked their head while milling around here. Knocked themselves out . . ." She leaves the thought unfinished as Lanlan bursts into a sprint for the door, doing her best to keep up after him- if only to pretend she didn't see anything he hurls. Whilst she felt peaked, she was thankfully spared -that- level of discomfort, if only due to the overabundance of vitality a foxkin could count on. "What renovations? But yeah- I already figured dis part out. So- I was checkin' through Copernics Compendium Of Carnivorous Critters, as one does- and realized there's plenty running amok. Well, slime wise- there off n' Alithyra. Which. Doable. I think." It's at this point she pauses, if only to consider Lanlans castle again, "As fer the salamander- I figured I was gonna ask if any of your colleagues at the guild had any experience in calling a creature forth- so we could drop a rock on it's head." She hasn't addressed the timeline yet, and that doesn't seem accidental, if only because one's a road trip, and the others- well. It is what it is.

||"Haha what renovations? All of them, Trish." He wasn't sure yet. "That castle is a future center of commerce." He stares into the imaginary distance, seeing his dreams realized. The end goal was clear, but the steps between 'A' and 'Z' were not. And he was superstitious about telling people his plans before they would be imminently realized. He still felt junky, too. Cold. The wind howls angrily around him, chilling him in his bones. "This damn WIND! It's SUMMER. WHY?" He suspected he did know who to blame for it, he just didn't understand the purpose. Just to annoy him? Just to goddamn annoy him and that's it? It seemed like it. "Alithyra? That's way too far. And look. You're small. Those naga? They'll eat you! You can't go there alone. Sorry, that's just the way it is." He shrugs apologetically, but Trish needed someone to be honest with her. She needed Lanlan. Honest Lanlan. "As it happens I may know of a way to...make...a salamander. I've heard that when witches need certain things, organic things, they create them out of people. They need an eye of newt, but there aren't any newts. You're in a desert, there aren't any newts. So you take a slave, or an apprentice, or an enemy. You turn THEM into a newt. That's two eyes right there." Ina could figure out the rest. A short walk later and they end up at the bank. Time again to talk business. "What do you need to furnish a workspace? An anvil? I'll take care of it."

Ina gives the castle another once over, this time picturing just how much of a godawful fixer-upper it must be- as well as the benefits of a project in the process of being tweaked. "Well, at least floor designs are flexible then." When Lanlan begins to run into Tangents, the kitsune's attention starts to drift, her focus turning instead towards the view of the sea. There's something almost homelike about the place- up to and including the dread aura permeating it. Well, maybe not the specifics of this one, but still. "What?! Nothin' ventured nothin' gained- and I do need ta' travel more. Though- hm. As much as I can appreciate distinguished gourmands that know a good thing, I would ratha' be off da menu." Ina's response to the assertion that she is just far too small, however, is perhaps a bit more artful- as she begins to utilize her innate ability as a foxkin to alter her appearance. In this case, gradually, shifting herself so that she looks just a bit taller, and more muscular- as the moments wear on. In a manner that's meant to be subtle in the moment, but pronounced enough to be noticed by the time Lanlan's done speaking, given her clothes will have been pushed taut. Not that she's actually -stronger-, or anything, but she'll at least give off the appearance of it.

Still, whatever punchline she'd been leading up to is abruptly cut short when Lanlan introduces his latest brilliant Con, "OH. There are so many people I'd love ya see turned into a newt. In fact- I'm pretty sure I could get us -paid- to turn some specific someones inta a newt, if that's really a route we're followin'. ...I wonder what that'll do to the ingredients though. Do they change back after dyin'?" Her fist pounds into her palm as she goes over the thoughts- the sleeves of her dress shirt straining against the faux muscles she'd formed in place of her more traditionally lithe form. "Oh, 'n for a workshop, I'd like a forge n' bellows, an anvil- maybe invest in a bettah' hammer ta' start, and some other tools. Mmm." Really, The foxkin's also considering giving Nikola's workshop another lookover to see if there's anything else she needs to crib.

||By the time they're at the bank, Trish looks more like Lanlan's bodyguard. Or even his blacksmith! "Actually now that I look at you, you'll be fine. You're too fluffy and muscly to taste good." Lanlan for some reason could easily get into the head of a cold reptile, enough to know who looked tasty and who didn't, apparently. "And how would you capture a slime? Just put it in a big jam jar? Hold on." It's his turn at the bank so he does some quick math. It doesn't pan out, so he just takes out a large sum. "I have no idea. Witch magic is the lowest form of magic anyways." Now they were done at the bank. Time to go back to the castle? "We'll put my minions on it. They'll figure out the details."

Ina does her best to practice some intimidating looms, in the same vein that hired muscle might, during the time that Lanlan scrutinizes her. "See, I told ja so. Though, at worst- I coulda always asked ya to glamour us up a bit- so we looked closer to Dryads or something, since last I heard they weren't too keen on salads." That demonstration finally attended to, the Foxkin abruptly loses the excess height and musculature- effectively deflating down to her normal size. "Anyways, my thoughts for the slime was more- we were catching one flatfooted, and bringing it back dead. 'n even then, only as much as I'd need to fill a couple large buckets." She was, after all, intending on tempering the phoenix metal in the stuff. "Just uh, the whole how-to-murder a boneless heap o' gunk is the hang-up I'm havin'. Might be that the Sally-Mander's an easier fix." The mention of leaving the finer details to the minions receives an enthusiastic nod from the fox-kin. "Yeah, yer' right. Why have a castle full of extra hands, if we don't delegate the worst parts to 'em."

||"Exactly right. I'm granting them asylum aren't I?" Obviously, Trish didn't know this. "Ehh I am, trust me. It's complicated. I should feed them though, otherwise, they'll keep asking." She could trust him on this too, these things he spoke on with experience. So on the way back to the castle, Lanlan put in two orders. One at the restaurant near his castle. That would come in approximately an hour. And nother to get the castle forge renovated. The basics that Ina related to him. That would come about in days.

"My familiars? I've returned," he says to his minions, apprentices, victims of kidnapping..whatever you wanna call them. "Food is on the way! In the meantime, we're not going to sit here and whine anymore, are we? Nono we're going to learn!" He dramatically gestures toward Trish. "This, my friends, is Trish. She'll be my assistant. Professor Trish? Tell them what they must do."

Ina lets out a huff "Psh, yeah. Also, having to clear out the bodies when you forget to feed pets is the -worst-. An' I can only imagine you'd end up having to do it personally with the minions, since they'd get all squeamish, about, like. Dying." Or whatever. God. Ethics. The look of sympathy that the foxkin has reserved for Lanlan in this moment, if only due to the scale of what his charitable endeavours will cost him in time, energy, and the simple act of pretending to care. Wait, is he pretending- or was this just a 'learning the ropes of being a benevolent ruler' thing? "Hmm," She should take notes. Also, she should maybe work on her attention span, given she gets pretty distracted by adding her own orders of snack food, booze and a live chicken to the meal plan.

Not distracted enough to fail in following after Lan, however- and more than happy to soak in the prestige and authority she suddenly has at her disposal, courtesy of the altogether spurious, yet spectacular introduction on Lanlan's part. As the students begin to gather up to inspect their new 'instructor', the foxkin tries her best to adopt what strikes her as a solid pose- the umbrella unslung from her back, only to be propped up over one shoulder, "Issa pleasure ta' meet all of ya- As our illustrious host said, 'm Trish. Ja could say that I'm an- "Oh boy, time to double-down on fraudulent claims, "arcane forge master. " As buzz words go, it's a pretty good one, given it earns looks of curiosity from some of the students. Sure, some might be looking at her a bit quizzically, but even curiosity or doubt is preferable to outright dismissal, "Now, I'm gonna be working on a few projects here- but I'm lookin' for some folks who aren't just looking to get grub in their bellies. I want people who have an appetite fer' learnin' that just can't be whet."

It's almost spoken like a dare, Ina leaning more on her background as a showman- to entice the crowd with the idea of exclusivity, "Now, isn't gonna be easy work. Some of it down the line may even involve travel, down the line. But, it'll be worthwhile- both for the results, and for just how much it may contribute to better'n your situations, both here and abroad." Perhaps Lanlan would notice the way she cracks open the umbrella as she speaks, nudging it just enough so that it begins to exude a trail of pixie dust into the air. But Ina does take a fair bit of care to be discreet, and the way in which she carefully steps forward and begins to step around the gathered students, as though taking stock of those gathered, helps to ensure that the dust doesn't accumulate noticeably in the air. Hopefully, it's just enough to make them a bit more prone to being suggestible. "But for now, I'm gonna need a brave handful of folks ta' volunteer- with a preference towards those that got experience on conjuration' n' summoning."

||"Oh it isn't the clean up I'm worried about," says Lanlan about the apprentices potentially starving to death; says Lanlan who would hire one team to move the bodies, one team to mop, one team to sanitize, and one to rhyme with mop. "It's replacing them! They need me right now. That sort of dependence is irreplaceable." Fast forward to them inside the loaded conference room, Trish has just illuminated everyone on her status as Arcane Forge Master. A made-up title, that was more believable than many of the other titles in the Mage's Guild quite frankly. She also may have micro-dosed them with pixie dust. They were eager to learn, eager to prove themselves, and eager to do what was necessary. Lanlan...may have imbibed also. "Yes, dear friends we can't forget our studies just because the Em Jee is dissolved, nay! Now! Now is the time our studies are more important than ever!" A slight dose of euphoria and energy. Slight. "Our enemy! Our enemy is POWER-ful!" He says as he raps his hand on the conference table. He looks around, were they buying it? He couldn't tell. "We'll start with monster summoning. A difficult subject I know. In fact, it's my weakness! I can admit it, I have weaknesses. Not many..." He finds Ialantha's stack of books from the library. She had planned on selling them or trading them to prospect apprentices or hedge mages, but it was good she took them. "Fantastic Familiars and how to Summon them? A good place to start! Let's begin."

One book to share between almost ten people was not going to be fun for anyone, but Lanlan had a fix. He simply embiggened what he saw on the book, creating a larger picture of it on a blank wall. Upon looking at the first page. "Alright, it turns out we'll need a lot of components to do this, especially for all of us. Well..." A gong sounds through the castle. "I'll be right back. Trish?" He gave her a look that meant don't do anything that I wouldn't do. Then he sprinted to get a massive food order for his precious minions.

Ina is already in the process of scrutinizing the ingredient list once the page has been blown up for everyone to see. Really, the minutiae of executing the task can be left to the students- but the ingredients? Surely, they had the majority of these things lying around. What's more, Lanlan gave her a look- as though he expected some form of progress to be made by the time he'd returned. "Aye Aye." Wait, too pirate-y. "We'll be heeeeere~" And then he's out the door, and for all intents and purposes, out of mind. "Lesse, We need a heckin' ton of candles. Which- I mean, castle. So we likely got tons, they're jus' probably inventories. A supply room, or like, a kitchen." She pauses here, only to make a shooing motion at a pair of students who seem less interested in reading than the others, "Arright'. You two are officially volun-told. Shoo, Shoo. We need those. Pronto. And uh'." Hrm. " Just a bundle of bacon or meat- "Wait, there's a food shortage. " Like- the spoiled stuff that the castle got at." Perfect. Totally, if you're going to summon a giant lizard, you need meat, either as a snack or a distraction.- and a bit of evil tainted stuff certainly doesn't hurt. Though, the students will definitely serve as a distraction in a pinch.

"Oh, Sulfur- that's..." Wretchedly foul smelling, but more importantly, "Cannon Powder." This later statement is muttered, more because it's -part- of it, but frankly, you needed to cut corners, sometimes. Its convenient availability in dwarven blasting powder and cannon powder meant it was likely on hand. Frankly, it'd be best if she fetched it, just so she didn't arouse too many questions. Now phosphorus? That one is the real problem, but she's fairly certain it's in living creatures- so, "Oh- actually, yeah. we're good." And maybe they can convert some of the meals they ordered. Or there's been an accident that Lanlan hasn't mentioned. Nothing like getting rid of the evidence by turning them into a spell or potion component. "Speakin' of spell components." Ina casually reaches into her jacket, first to pluck up the beaten-up copy of Copernics' Compendium she'd referred to earlier, only to set it aside in favour of Lucidius' Concocting On The Cheap. Really, for the consummate con artist- having an array of mischief enhancing tinctures helps both on and off the job- and the foxkin was certainly plotting. Rifling her way through the dog-eared text, she draws one of the other students aside- pointing out a pair of potions that seemed favourable. "Arright- So, I need ja to make me one of these, the ones that say Stoneskin, and this other one- the, uh, don't mind the picture, kid." Said picture in question was a rather enthusiastic bit of coupling by a pixie and a giant in the image- given that it's a potion of 'accommodation'. After all, if they use that as part of the ingredients to beckon forth the Salamander, that'd probably make it a lot more supple, right? Fit like a glove, and all that. "...Seriously, quit blushin' so much kid. It's botherin' me. Jus' go do yer homework, and maybe get your peers to do that."

Honestly, Ina doesn't really care too much that she's short-circuited the apprentice's brain- so long as she actually gets movin'. "Get some help from your classmates. Oh," Here she raises her voice, even as she begins preparing to shuffle out of the room, "If ya can gather everything as it comes and bring it to the roof- maybe leave a message for Lanlan?" Yeah, this is fine. "I'll be -riiiiight- wit' ya."

||With Lanlan gone, the apprentices aren't sure what to do. On the one hand, they did have direct orders. On the other hand, there was a very potent death curse that kept this castle uninhabited for -years-. They neither confirmed they could nor admitted they would have trouble. But they did their best! Some of them had candles in their backpacks. But not all of them had backpacks or any belongings. There were also candles in this room! Half burnt, three-quarters melted, maybe...but nonetheless they were technically candles! All except Khavra, the lone dark elf in the room when Lanlan or Gevurah weren't present. "We can't leave this room until the Lady of the Castle returns," he tells the foxkin. "We need her blessing before we can walk about the grounds unsupervised." He was talking about Gevurah. They wouldn't be caught wandering through her halls without permission, even if they might without Lanlan's... But more importantly, they needed her magic to save them from the death curse. Powerful magic people like herself, Lanlan, and Ina could survive long enough to make targeted direct journeys, but even they would succumb soon enough if they lingered. These apprentices would perish in mere minutes.

Moments later, Lanlan would return carrying several bundles. "And look who else I found! Trish, this is Ialantha. Lady Ialantha," said Lanlan, strangely formally, "This is Trish. She's helping us summon a salamander. And guiding these scamps in summoning familiars." Ialantha was instantly dubious about Trish. She didn't trust anyone who would be one of Lanlan's friend through means other than necessity.

"Trish," she says in an undetectable dialect, "Good to meet you. I trust you've been keeping our children safe?" This was certainly a condition of her continuing to help Lanlan. Lanlan instantly interjected before she could continue. "HAHA! Of course, of course!" He exclaims loudly. And then more quietly, "I told you. We don't call them that. The word is apprentices." Gevurah will kill them all.

Ialantha resumes. "Salamander. The lizard who swims in lava, yes or no? Why are you going through all this trouble of summoning them? Just go find them. There's probably some in that cave under the castle."Yes but it's really hot down there," Lanlan says. "Too hot for the apprentices." Of course. "You and Trish go. Don't care about the apprentices I will teach them to summon the familiars."

Ina supposes she can understand the student's reticence, given moving around the castle made her feel a bit like getting a hug from her Great Grandmother. It was a deathly awful experience, though, there was the upside of- it wasn't quite as maddening as being around most of her family. "Actually, sorta... humane?" She steps trailing off a moment afterwards, staring at the students, who are in turn staring back at her- albeit now with the objects they've retrieved from the room. "Well. It's not immaculate, but it'll do. Improvisation issa key part of magic, especially in the field." That entirely sounds like a legit thing to say. it certainly implied too much of her work. "Now, then- as for this Castle's Cu-" Oh, Lanlan's back before she can open her trap and make things worse. This is fine. And he's brought a guest. "Hey toots." This is followed up by Lanlan's more formal introduction of the lady, something which coaxes the foxkin to awkwardly lift up a hand, and wave, "Rather, Yer Lady Ialantha Ma'am Toots. ...Ch'yeah." When Lanlan introduces the foxkin, however, her awkwardness melts away, replaced by a more authoritative placement of her fists against her hips, "Professor Trish of the Kitsune Tradesman's Association." This is technically a completely accurate statement, you just need to squint a little. "Arcane Forgemaster, 'n yaself? Oh, 'n Is the Ladyship bit like a nobility thing, or a Boss Lady thing?" Whatever other questions she might have, she finds them abruptly coming to an end when it turns out there are Salamanders that are not only proximal- but also in a completely friggin hostile environment. "...Uh- yeah, Okay students- on top of the other potions I dog-eared, maybe some heat resistance might be good. I'd rather not smell like burnt hair."

Really, Ina can wait long enough to ensure that both herself and her belongings don't just spontaneously combust due to convection. Plus, it gives her a chance to see whose more enthusiastic about working with bootleg potions amongst the gathered students. That, and to also side-eye Lanlan and add, "So, by the way- my only plan fer killin' this thing involved cliffin' it off the roof of the castle n' landing on it. So, this is gonna get real fun."

Lanlan luckily didn't care how anyone else treated Ialantha and felt no need to correct the way Trish addressed her. She wasn't Gevurah, after all. "Toots?" Ialantha asks. "What is...Toots?" Lanlan shrugs and plops a bundle of bags on the table. Food of some kind. Fish, apparently, judging by the smell. He huffed and leaned on the table. His lungs weren't what they used to be, and they were among the first things to falter under the curse. So he lit up a cigarette, a habit he'd recently reacquired. "There's a troubling illness taking hold in Cenril, friends. I recommend you all take the necessary steps to stave it off. Like I'm doing," he gestures to his tobacco-filled tube. The students appeared puzzled, then began dissecting the bounty of meals and passing out pieces.

Ialantha continued. "Not sure the distinction. Former Archmage of a former college. My students are all dead now. Except one." Lanlan checked her with a glance. They had an arrangement. He didn't need it to be known. "Anyway," he says leading Trish away. He was thinking about a few very green apprentices whipping up a potion out of several pieces of junk. "I'm allergic to fire-resistance potions. I don't think I'll be able to drink anything they can make." He looked so sad, so sad, so sad to tell Ina this.

Ina isn't really sure what this troubling illness is, but- she's even less sure as to the illusionists' statement. Therapeutic chain smoking is definitely some avant-garde treatment- though still preferably to an aquatic marinade. "What's tha' symptoms, just so I can avoid questionable company." Ialantha's mention of being an archmage does a fair bit to perk up the foxkins interest- and temper any enthusiasm she might have held for shenanigans. "We talkin' experiment gone awry dead, or- ?" Is that too personal? In retrospect, it might be. But Ina doesn't think too hard on it, given Lanlan's leading them both away, "Uh, well, I'm deathly allergic to fire, and burning to death. Which, It's fair that you don't know that, since I've spent an awful lotta time in Larket. But- it just does not agree with me, lemme tell ya'." She's not quite digging her heels in, but if she's given the opportunity- the foxkin will entirely wait for a time skip so she can dabble with (questionable) alchemical solutions.

Lanlan must concede that his allergic reaction to apprentice-made potions wouldn't be as heartstopping or as eyebrow-burning as fire and lava would. And Ialantha is taking her role as teacher here very seriously. She vouches for the future-finished product. So they begin. Not with potion making, but with potion-maker-making. "I'm not going back outside," says Lanlan resolutely. "My constitution prohibits it." And so they go to the kitchen. There they find the boilers, the distillers, the sieves, the mashers, the steamers, basically, everything (ish) they'll need to cook up these potions. Altogether added up, they had a bargain brand book of recipes to follow, the wrong equipment, and amateur craftspeople. They also weren't of infinite grit or optimism, and its not like this had any sort of motivating imperative. But the main thing they had, that would definitely propel them to success, was nothing better to do.

Now they were ready to brew, so at Ialantha’s instruction, they found some coal in the stove, gathered up ashes from the fireplace, and threw it all at the sturdy bottom of a cauldron. A small one, kept in case Gevie ever wanted to do some of her good work on the surface. Then the nerd smashed it all together with the bottom of a broom handle. At the same time, another student separated the wicks from the candles and tied them all together, making one super wick. “Okay this is going well, I think?” Ialantha says. “It’s missing something.” She ponders for a moment. “Needs a little more foot…” she mutters, not realizing her phrasing missed. “Hands!” Commands Ialantha holding hers above the cauldron. “Come let’s all put our hands together and pray for success.” She insists it will work. She gets Ina a stool so she doesn’t have to jump, and then they and even the apprentices all put their hands together in a real feel-good move. “Dear...magic. Please--” A tiny blade of magical force suddenly slices along the side of the pile of hands, and everyone’s blood drips into the cauldron. “There!” She says happily while she gets everyone a napkin. “Magic blood! We needed it.” It was time to cook. They put a low flame on the cauldron, simmering the tiny puddle of dirty blood. Giving the ingredients time to meld. Next, they drop the tail of the wick in the brew and light the other end. Slowly the flame burns up the wick, climbing up the side of the cauldron, over the lip, down the blackened side, and finally into the grossness. But instead of going out, there’s a tiny explosion! A puff of smoke!

Eventually, it dissipates. What’s in the cauldron? Well, a fire resistance potion hopefully. It’s a shimmering orange...fluid. Is it liquid? It has no shape. They try to scoop it but the ambient air displaces it from the spoon. Lanlan just looks at it. An apprentice asks the question. Lanlan responds. “A craftsman must certify his work. You must taste it.” The apprentice dips a finger in and Lanlan slaps him sharply. “NOT WITH YOUR HANDS.” So he soaks a bit up with a cotton ball and dabs his tongue with it. “Well?” Demands Lanlan. “Are you fireproof?” The apprentice doesn’t know.

Ina isn't really sure how long you should wait for a potion to take effect- so she decides now's a good time to refer to her potion manual. Oh. Wait, Instantaneous. But the lasting time, that's a little spooky- 10-15 minutes, reapply if flesh starts to melt. "I hope that's not a side effect, or whateva'." Anyways, given the Apprentice isn't pulling their best 'wicked witch' impression, Ina decides now is a good time to try the efficacy of the potion in the most accessible means she has available. Which is to say- she takes in a breath and promptly spews a wad of fox fire on the apprentice. "GROS-AHH." Yeah, okay. Well. At first glance, the apprentice's skin doesn't seem to be melting, but their clothes are definitely on fire, and their hair seems to be smouldering slightly. "That's inconvenient." A beat. "Maybe you should, uh- roll around a little or somethin'?" That sage advice provided, she takes that moment to take a few steps away from the apprentice, and casually lean against the cauldron. "So- How are we divvying this out? Multiple vials, or?" The apprentices are a bit more on the ball about this situation, if only because once one dutiful soul begins invoking a cantrip to summon water-the rest soon fall in step. Emphasis on summon- so it plucks all sorts of grimy castle liquid and coats Ina's victim in. Whilst it does put out the flames in a hurry, it also seems to have an altogether unfortunate side effect- given the apprentices' skin begins to turn craggy in the aftermath- less like flesh, and more like igneous rock. "That's, uh- gonna be temporary, right?" Time to wait out the time limit some more.

Lanlan is glad Ina at least knows how to answer his question. Which apprentice was this? Apprentice No. 5 is reasonably startled and flinches. He ultimately feels a little warm, but not boiling. Success! “Good,” Lanlan says. “No doubt if you had a proper dose even your hair and clothes would’ve survived, eh?” Lanlan grabs two mason jars, dips a glass wand into the cauldron and whips it up magically into two flowing streams. The crud is deposited evenly into the jars, they’re all set. Lanlan’s about to abandon them for the trap door into lava-land, when he turns around, apparently forgetting something. “Class dismissed. B’s all around. B plus if you can get this place cleaned up and deodorized before I get back! Extra credit, eh?”

Lanlan leads Ina down a hallway, dusty and dirty, yet as evidenced by the trail of footprints going back and forth, not quite abandoned. At the end of it is a trap door. Heavy and...magically enchanted? It's cool to the touch. Lanlan lifts it up and a rank odor oozes from it. It opens into a sheer stone tunnel, carved with hardly any expertise. At the end of it is a wriggling glowing strip. Lanlan had no idea what this tunnel was ever supposed to be used for, as will become quite evident. He drinks his potion and begins to descend the ladder. After a few rungs, he tires and has to pause to catch his breath. It isn't as easy as it once was, before his lung was perforated. And he picked up smoking again. Then he remembers climbing isn't actually for him, he's a dark elf. He can levitate. He floats lazily down to the bottom of the tunnel, where it rapidly expands into a gorge of some kind, a lava-filled gorge, with a trickling river digging a tunnel and a slight valley in the middle of it. But this is all expected! The unexpected surprise, and the source of the smell, indubitably, is the shifting pile of burning garbage. Food scraps, rags, old clothes, bones, and more. It sits away from the burning river, and directly under the chute they're climbing and levitating down from!

Above them, yanked by a sudden draft, the trap door closes with a resounding heavy thud! The entire glowing, stinking gorge echoes and shakes. Heralded by the sound, dozens of child-sized fiery red salamanders emerge from the soft igneous mud surrounding the lava river. Habit has them lumbering over to the ever-growing, yet diligently maintained pile of smouldering rubbish. They rake their hooked claws against it and flicker their tongues over it, disturbing the pile. Clumsily they climb over it and each other, with no aggression. No need, they've all grown fat amid this bounty.

Ina briefly contemplates leaping off the ladder and using Lanlan as a flotation device to reach the bottom of the ladder. But, frankly- he might not be quite as amenable to that turn of events if it's just for funsies and not an emergency. "Maybe I can contrive a 'mergency. Ch'ye-" Perhaps less conniving and more climbing, because he is certainly getting away. In fact- the foxkin receives an epiphany, one which sees her briefly looping an arm through the ladder so she can focus on shifting her hands into reptilian claws reminiscent of a draconian. Sure, it's a less than comfortable process- BUT, it does mean she can promptly slide down the ladder and not have to worry about friction burns, or slivers of whatever getting wedged up in her palms. "Wheeee-" Ominous thudding noises pertaining to the door aren't going to stop her. "-eeeeee-" Okay, actually, that churning pile of fatty salamanders might be a problem. "eeeek." She hits the brakes hard- reptilian hands clenching onto the sides of the ladder in a death grip that shears some scales free, and leaves her dangling on a ladder that she may have jerked partly free of its moorings. It's fine. It's still standing, for now. But a particularly dopey-looking Salamander begins to nuzzle against it, now that he sees it's moving. And some of the others at the bottom are now lurking up at towards where the Foxkins noisesome self was- curiously tasting the air. ..But still too lazy to pull themselves free of their trash pile buffet.

||From dozens of feet above, Lanlan observes them, scrutinizing their movements with intensity. He lists lazily down, tempting their malice, but there is none. They notice him! Flicker their tongues detecting his scent. Not good. Ina on the other hand, doesn’t wear as much perfume, probably, and one fat lizard has noticed. It plops its forelimbs against the ladder and pushes itself up on two legs and just shoves. The whole thing rocks back and forth. “Trish stop playing. Go wrap it up before it destroys my ladder entirely.” As he spoke, his skin was transmuting going from smooth and moisturized to craggy and jagged, and his voice changed to match. Yet he remained beautiful! He magically transmuted into a Lanlan-shaped elemental of pretty polished opal, mottled with changing colours. Wow! Unfortunately, he just became a delicacy in the salamander's eyes, and when he returned his opal eyes to them, he found them piling on top of one another to get to him and Ina, who was some kind of rock too now. When the pile grew too tall, Lanlan gave the top climber a slap, and the blobby amphibious load tumbled over itself over and over until it fell into the slow-moving river of lava with a splash. Because Lanlan is tastier, his pyramid of admirers is taller. But Trish’s is more resourceful! Not only are they knocking at her ladder, but one recalls his earlier life, one filled with struggle and strife. It roils its inner workings and rears back on its hind legs, then retches! An amorphous molten blob of literal hot garbage smacks from its gullet and arcs toward Trish. Ultimately, it won’t ever kill her. But it will melt the ladder, likely bring her down, where she can be chomped and ate.

Ina's dangling only grows more precarious, yet the claws she'd provided herself hold fast- allowing her to adhere to the ladder desperately as it shakes first to one side, then another. Lanlan's chiding that she should hurry it up reminds her that she's supposed to have formulated a plan by this point. With the various ingredients and contingencies she forgot to make. "Aha. Right. Ch'yeah. On-ooop." It wobbles to the other side, but once more, her claws hold firm, allowing her to chug back her own jar of questionable junk. From there- she hucks the glass container down at the Salamander giving her grief, and begins to do her best to scale back up the ladder- even as its swaying grows all the more violent. Still, there's only so much you can do when your body weight adjusts to five times its mass, due to your flesh converting to Pyrite. It looks snazzy, sure, but it -really- doesn't do you any favours when you earn yourself a bilious coating of molten trash. "No, no, noo-" She manages to desperately clamber up a few more rungs before it simply gives way beneath the scorching upchuck- leaving her to face the lazily smacking mouth of the Salamander. BUT WAIT. There's more. "...Arright, Ja big lummox. We'll do it yer way." Which is to say, she promptly stops making any attempt at veering away from the salamander- ensuring that the crux of her amplified crashes unimpeded into its open mouth. This dumb, fatty lizard is about to discover a very simple fact- the occasional indigestion related to trash, is far preferably to your throat and stomach rupturing apart under the rough kinetic force of swallowing a living Javelin whole. Not that Ina gets to step out triumphantly, or anything. She's currently trying to disentangle herself from the Innards she's lodged herself in. A process that is slightly helped by the Salamander's secondary bout of vomiting- though this one is equal parts digestive fluid and blood. "Grosssss."

Lanlan hovers a mere meter above the highest magma puppy, in the shifting, clambering pyramid of them. It shifts even further when Ina hits the hot soft mud, as some of them break away to see their bellies full of fool’s gold instead of rainbow opal. Not to say pyrite is tastier, certainly not! Just that it’s closer. The pyramid topples. Lanlan brushes away quickly the idea that he’s been in some way insulted by these salamanders for not choosing him. What a crazy idea. It’s impossible. And yet, the first one that broke away becomes the victim of Lanlan’s purely pragmatic and not at all personal malice. The salamander, as seamlessly as himself and Ina, becomes magicked into a tasty metal. A hunk of walking pewter. Dull and soft, weak. The other salamanders, not known to be cannibals, descend upon it. “Trash-eating mongrels,” Lanlan says full of disgust. Then his stony easter egg gaze turns to Ina. “Trish! Well done. Take what you need and get up here.” Lanlan slowly and easily floats up to the new bottom rung of the ladder, since part of it fell away. The salamanders will likely be finished with their meal soon, and turn their focus back to the foxkin. “Do hurry, yes?” Lanlan uses the rungs to propel himself easily up the tunnel.

Ina emerges in a pool of steaming blood and bile with some choice bits of internal organs clutched within her arms. And a distinct realization of a pressing issue. "Ja got a rope to spare, I can't fly. And I don't think trying to change inta a bird'll do much cause a' the - WAIT!" Yeah, there's definitely a salamander lumbering after her, and not the Pewter buffet. With a grumble, she begins to scramble off to the side, sliding across the bilious slime the slain Salamander had left behind, before stumbling over the mud. Yeah, she's definitely hoping he comes up with a plan before the potion wears off, since this is the epitome of an out-of-the-fire and into the frying pan type of situation.

||With an exasperated sigh, Lanlan slows down. "Must I do everything..." He draws a circle on the side of the stone chute he's climbing up, and then...presses his cotton candy-coloured stone arm through it. It...vanishes? His entire arm, up to the shoulder, disappears into this invisible hole, as if through an invisible doorway in the craggy rock. He rifles around for a moment, and yanks his arm out. Along with an entire rope of...laffy taffy? Oh well. The world of dreams is weird. You get what you get and you don't get upset. Okay, sometimes you still get upset. It stretches down, all the way to the ground before Ina and dangles there. It glows and sparkles...it doesn't seem real! But you better believe it is, or it won't be.

Ina isn't the sort to question the ridiculous- given she basically traffics in the absurd on a day-to-day basis. So, she wastes no time in diving straight into the rope- doing her best to awkwardly scuttle up it whilst maintaining her grasp upon the slick innards of the critter. "...This is, Uh." Her salamander pursuer is making more progress in closing the gap, than she does ascending- so she instead leaps off to the side- making use of the ropes stickiness to engage in a full-on swashbuckler-level swing that sees her arcing around the area. Something which helps to solidify her perception of how sticky the rope is, given she wraps her legs around it, and frees up an arm so she can begin cramming as much of the organs she'd been holding into her mouth. It's repulsive, vile- ...and surprisingly easy when you can expand the dimensions of your jaw with some Kitsune magic. Which means there's not much stopping her from making a more hasty ascent once she's effectively turned her gullet into a gory storage pouch. " *** ". She definitely said something, but it's so muffled and gross sounding it doesn't even matter. The point is, she's definitely making progress up- and the stupid Salamander at the bottom is less interesting in chasing the foxkin, and more curious about chewing at the bottom of the illusory laffy taffy rope.

||Once it's clear that Arlyeon is safeish, Lanlan decides for both of their sakes, that he will look away. He floats, but that says nothing of his gurgling stomach's foul burden. He urgently, yet slowly, drifts to the top. To the trap door that fell closed. He turns the crank and gives it a weak shove. It only budges a little. "Oh no..." he mutters. "If we're trapped down here..." He struggles against the door for what seems like an eternity. It feels that way, until the rocky exoskeleton of both begins returning to its squishy flesh. The heat of the place registers in quickly intensifying waves. Second by second, the potion gets weaker. Lanlan turns the crank the other way, and shoves again. It opens easily. Wordlessly, he ascends. "Wait here," he says to the gore-dressed foxkin at the top when they're both safe. He leaves. Presently he returns with two large basins and a budding hydromancer. An apprentice soaker with aspirations toward being a super soaker, if he puts his mind to it. He's eager to prove himself. "Trish," he says pointing to one bucket. "Filth in here. You," gesturing to the other. "In here." Lanlan prays she'll rinse easily enough. To prove he's appreciative, he shows off his laundromancer skills and snaps his fingers. An appropriately sized comfy cotton robe appears before Ina hanging on an invisible hook. "I'll be...nearby." There's a very good chance all the hair on their bodies has been burnt off, and Lanlan would prefer to save each of them the embarrassment of having to confirm this when the potion completely wears off.

Ina is infinitely grateful to be free of the stinking, sweltering depths of the cellar. Sure, it's a bit awkward to wait around while carrying a mouth full of viscera- but Lanlan manages to avoid sparking up embers of Animosity by virtue of both the cleaning basin, and the illusory robes. ...It also alleviates the responsibility of having to totes around all the Viscera, and return to her natural proportions- much to the horror of the student stuck watching the grotesque display. "...What? I didn't need those." ... She evaluates his still mortified face, before amending, "OH! Don't worry, those weren't mine." ...Still not good. "Jus' nevah mind. And no peekin' if ja can help it." Getting cheekily finger-gunned by a foxkin that looks like she rolled around in an abattoir is probably not that heartening of a mental image, but it -does- work wonders for ensuring they follow orders. Suffice it to say, Ina makes sure to get a good long rinse before she finally deigns to swap into the bathrobe and tag along after Lanlan. ...With more hair than he's apt to have, given she's able to grow it back out. It's just more of a weird sky-blue colour, than the cherry red she normally sports. "So. It occurred ta' me. We, uh. We are -definitely- well suited to any potions, or alchemical bits that may require 'essence of salamander'. But, uh- ...Wasn't the goal to get it's -Hide-?" It's a strictly rhetorical question, though, their current experience had provided them with some invaluable information. " ...I'm thinking we just dump a key of sleeping draught, and moulderring food down the chute. They'll chomp it, clonk out- and give us the time we need to skin our prize and get out. ...Ja know, after we rest. N' eat." ...With this said, the foundation for a quick Montage has been effectively laid out, thus sparing both writer and reader alike.

That said, her appreciation for Lanlan is infinitely compounded when he not only deigns to provide her with the privacy to vomit up her ill-gotten goods, but to resume her normal proportions free of scrutiny.

Lanlan finds himself in the midst of a montage, and then finds his entire stash of belladonna, used in purposeful forays into dreamland, and stuffs it inside a whole turkey. The whole thing is dumped into the garbage chute. They leave the stinky hatch open this time, and suffer greatly. This is a great trial to endure. When the sounds of the feeding frenzy, at last, die down, they clamber back down the ladder and find a pile of sleeping lava lizards. They find the fattest one and lop off its whole fat tail, or whatever has the right amount of scales they need. But if it's more than a tail they need, they’ll probably just kill whatever fat slob of a strange organism looks the ugliest. Finally, Ina has what she needs to stabilize her project. “Right?” Asks Lanlan, confirming this. “RIGHT!?”

Narrator: "It would mostly suffice."