RP: Bird Is The Word

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Summary: Lanlan Bumbles onto Ina while she's doing legitimate work. Weird. Though that pales in comparison to the avian admirer he's accrued. A bit of shared history between drow & turkey leads to a decidedly desperate flight-and-fight experience.

The Torn Earth

A large jagged object has recently torn through the earth here ripping layers of dirt, clay and solid rock clear apart, leaving a gaping wound that leads further into the ground. The violent strike has created dozens of piles of scorched earth and piles of smashed and blacked stone all around the area. Around the wound the ground is scorched black and crumbling into a fine black dust which is being carried away on the occasional gust. of wind, producing an acrid smoky stench, almost as if the very earth is being corrupted by unseen forces. The air around the dangerous wound which seems to be slowly collapsing in and thus becoming larger and more precarious is tinged with magic, the very air around it is glowing with strands of vibrantly coloured energies that twist, roll vanish and reappear seemingly at random producing eerie lights and a myriad of colour set against backdrop of the darkness below. Whatever tore through the earth here has clearly gouged further into the earth, like a misshapen blade or a beast gouging into flesh, making the area around the wound precarious, anyone seeking to explore further best be prepared...

Ina has been hard at work for hours now- an occurrence recently necessitated by the lack of rubes willing to play cards against her, and the ever-growing array of debts she'd managed to accumulate across the land. Not that mining was bad work, considering it helped build up the strength she needed whenever she made her forays into smithing - but, it definitely made a girl thirsty. Which is unfortunate, since she could count on one hand the number of drinking establishments she didn't have a crippling bar tab at (And those were either at the ass end of the ocean or the Underdark). "I've been working on the ...causeway. All the..something something something." There's more to it, she's sure, but she's going to internally ask forgiveness for not caring to get it right. It's about this point that the lantern attached to the fox's hip abruptly slams to one side, as the pixie entrapped within kicks against the enclosure in protest, "Could you not? Please?" That's the fae captive, not the fox whose griping. Ina is perfectly happy with being offkey.

Lanlan is mildly upset. He's been removed from the Mage's Guild because of a lie! They think they can judge him? -They- think they can judge -Lanlan-. It's a joke. Lanlan laughs as he pulls his chariot over to the entrance of a mine. He laughs and shakes his head as he descends into darkness. "One thing's for sure," he says, "they won't get away with it. Nope! Attacking guild members. They think that was an attack on a guild member? Haha. WAIT." While muttering to himself, he becomes aware of several miners, human and dwarf mostly, who apparently think he's weird. Maybe even dangerous. He can tell by the look they're giving him. He puts on a polite face-ish. It's a weak plastic smile that's barely veiling the amount of stress he's feeling. "You guys are still here? Even despite the rock monsters and magma beasts? I thought by now these caves would be empty! Oh my, you must have heard, no!?" An evil grin peeled over his teeth. "I think I hear them coming..." Suddenly a thunderous burst punctures a hole in the ground, and animated boulders, spinning around a central core, roll up and out of the hole. Following them are blobs of lava with vaguely humanoid shapes that slip out and dash toward miners. "I told you," Lanlan says shaking his head, as the illusions apparently attempt to crush and melt people. "Rock monsters and magma beasts, I told you." The miners are forced to abandon their gear and their finds as they rush past him. "Is it too much to ask for a little privacy? I'm going through a rough time." He sighs. At last it's silent. Almost. From a deeper cave, Lanlan definitely hears a single miner and singer. He follows the echoes impatiently until he comes upon Arlyeon, toiling away. The miners gave her a very wide berth for some reason. "Have you not heard?" Lanlan inquires to the little foxkin.

Ina, despite popular and probable opinion, did not make allusions to what sort of garnishes one would suggest goes best with cannibal dishes. That would imply she shares a species with dwarf, and that would be a calamitous -lie-. Honestly, she's not sure why it went so badly when she'd dusted off her vintage copy of 'Elf: Consumable Companions'. Cave-ins happen all the time, and it's always best to be prepared. Having hypothetical conversations as to the order a group of trapped individuals would gnaw each other's legs off is a super healthy way to clear the air. Anyways, it's cozy back here. All by her lonesome. All by herseeeeel- "HEY! HEY! Is the space between your ears carriage parking, or do you use it for something? I'm too young to fry." This interlude has been helpfully brought to you by Ina's less than thrilled Pixie prisoner, who is rattling the side of his iron-wrought refuge. "Bwuh?" comes the foxkins less than dignified response, the pickaxe coming to rest partly buried in the floor in front of her, before she blinks at her 'companion', and then over towards Lanlan. For a brief moment, she seems utterly at a loss, her face still other than a sparse few twitches of her whiskers- before her partly exhausted brain goes through its paces and she's able to place the face, "'n what's da word, 'den? Beeeecause I have not heard."

Lanlan suddenly realizes this is not a miner at all. Not in the typical way he regards miners, as expendable idiots. Of course, Arlyeon was literally a miner, a person who mines. "Oh, I didn't recognize you at first, Trish." He's not about to tell Trish about the magma and rock elementals because he didn't feel like tormenting her at this time. "Have you not heard that the Mage's Guild," he ad-libs, "is-is-is run by a bunch of pettyfoggers? Of snollygosters and lickspittles! It's true." Lanlan himself is surprised at what he might come up with on the spot. It was good! "Yes. I could go on. Anyway, I thought this cave was empty? What are you doing here?" As Lanlan's voice echoes through the stony caverns, a faint shriek echoes back. Lanlan pays it no mind. "Reading? Mining? (And by the way, it looks bad when you let your pets talk to you like that)"

Ina's face screws up for a moment in a look of absolute perplexion- if only because if she hadn't been recognized, what had been s- oh. He was totally going to try and run a con on her. Considering that this happens to be the foxkins lifeblood, she can wholly understand the compulsion, since she'd probably do much the same in his shoes. "Ja know, the recovery needs a bitta' work. I liked the improv act in Larket a lot more. Genuinely good stuff." Although, "I mean, the lickspittlin' is why I didn't really feel like puttin' on dem robes and wizard hats. They seem like a trippin' and fire hazard." Momentarily distracted from her financial woes and physical toil, the vixen adopts a far more thoughtful expression, as she vacillates between responding to Lanlan's question with the truth, or a patented Trish-Style-Tall-Tale. "Mmm. MmmHmm. HmHmHm." All that shrieking is making it hard to think, "Wouldja runts keep it down back there! SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO DO WORK HERE!" The pixie has at this point thrown themselves at the wall of the lantern, and begun sliding down the surface of the glad, sadly banging their tiny fists against it as the dawning realization of just how ambivalent Ina is to the imminent threat of danger. Which reminds her, "Oh, right. Not a pet. This- is a prisoner of war, " Okay, Somewhat tall tale it is. " I was minding my own business, gallivanting through the woods and dales as us fox-y types do, and certainly without ulterior motives that would end in tragedy or ..uh, larcenous ends. "That is a specific denial. " Shush, internal monologue." Right, fine. "When I was descended upon, by a band of roaming pixies, looking to engage in vagrancy-induced homicide." Her prisoner, being the subject of this tale, is alternating between looking incredulous and offended, "And then I incinerated them. 'Cept this guy. He sorta lived, and I needed a night light. So, here we are. ...Mining?" That explained almost nothing, Ina.

Lanlan couldn't easily admit to being caught. It was his instinct to double down with more lies. "Improv? No in fact I just found this out about them. They're nothing but career mages. Haven't discovered anything in years. Years!" Yes. Lanlan did in some way self-delude himself into believing this, or maybe he always believed it, but now it seemed pertinent. His passion for insulting them was real, at least. "Anyway, I can't say that this has anything to do with the pop-up witch-bomb kiosk in Larket? Successful, yes, but more due to the combination of timing, luck, and of course...! A great product. I verified it myself as you'll recall?" Lanlan allowed her to holler through the tunnels at the rude thing that shrieked at them. She was right to do so. "Ignorant aren't they? The runts. Anyway, go on?" Lanlan listens, nodding along, especially at the points of the story where it seems like people would not nod. "Of course, who galivants with larcenous ends? Ludicrous. Mhm." Lanlan kneels down, intent on giving Trish the benefit of the doubt. "So you and your band of marauders attack a lone [mumbles intelligibly] and get your life spared? All you have to do is provide a light source! A monstrous act with an extremely lenient punishment if you ask me." Far away in the now empty tunnels, their conversation echoes. It's basically incomprehensible, but a nesting phoenix is alerted. The sounds arouse anxiety, fear, and hate. Hate most of all. It shrieks back through the tunnels, not to say anything, but just because the rage can't be diffused otherwise. It takes flight, burning for the source of the sound. "Anyway," says Lanlan after the long shriek. "What keeps it from escaping?" Lanlan sticks his tongue out at the pixie and makes a dumb face, taunting it. Testing to see whether it can attack him from in there.

Ina might not have put too much stock in Lanlan's introductory exposition, but this new batch of information sounds a bit more on the level. After all, when was the last time she had heard about groundbreaking magical discoveries? Not that it was due to her entourage being a ravenous winged eyeball, an exile apparent from the guild, a blacksmith, or the like. "Mmm. Mmm. Here they could be revolutionizing things for us folks- like how ta better the lives of us peeps with talent, and they're squandering it, building...towers. And, uh. Fogging. Pettily." ...Yeah, she has literally no idea about the mages guild. But far be it to let Lanlan rag on them alone. "Anyways, I mean- I can certainly vouch for that product. Why I heard the rate of arson in Larket has had a steady increase recently. And if that doesn't mean satisfied customers, I don't know what does." The fox pauses for a moment to consider what she said, before nodding sagely, "Unless they were meant to be fire retardant. But who needs that durin' a witch pa. .. nic." There's a brief sideways glance, before she quickly sidesteps over towards her pack, ever so neatly stashed alongside a rock, and procures a notepad, "Note here: Flame retardant witch Clothes? . . . What are witch clothes? ...Make something up." That jotted down, she closes the notepad back, and then redirects her attention towards Lanlan, "Well, I wasn't -quite- lone. There was a kid. I got his card 'n everything. . . . Good paper, too. I gnawed on it n' everything. Anyways. Lone survivor here sorta crawled out from the wreckage of his peers, and I stuffed 'em into the only thing I had." Ina does a little sideways shimmy to bump her hip against the wrought iron lantern, causing it to swing and bounce the denizen inside against one of its glass walls. On further inspection, it's a pretty ugly lantern to boot- if only because it happens to be an example of something made for function, rather than figure. ..And Ina is -incredibly- lazy. "Anyways, as for why they ain't fleeing. I think because pixies are weak to cold Iron. And superstition ...That, or this guy's not good at much else than transforming into a horse, and going full size would smear him into horse burgers. Po-tay-to, Ta-Mah-To." While Ina's busy shrugging and considering the long-term implications of this arrangement, her likely traumatized fae companion is providing Lanlan with a flipped bird x2 combo. At least, once he's peeled himself off the bottom of the lantern, given the way he keeps getting bounced around.

Lanlan claps his hands excitedly, and points his finger at Arlyeon "Yes! Exactly! You get it! They're doing nothing but attaching their name to quality work like mine. And yours if you let them! Stay away that's my advice." The stuff about Larket and witches and satisfied customers was true too. "That's what they're meant to do so of course! I'm glad we helped." Then he peeps over Trish's shoulder as she writes a note. "Hmm. That's good. Witches hate being burned as much as everyone in Larket hates witches. But we don't hate witches," said Lanlan injecting 'we' into this latest scheme. "So why wouldn't we help them? Yes. In fact, everyone in Larket hates witches so much, maybe we should also make witch-retardant clothes." The phoenix shrieks grow louder, the space between the original shriek and its echoes shrinks. It comes nearer. "I like it. The housing could be more aesthetically pleasing, but the overall style of your creation is undeniable. A true statement in fashion. People everywhere have lanterns, yes. But how many are pixie powered?" Lanlan pinches his chin and nods. He's very thoughtful before he throws his hands up. "Alright, you sold me on it! I'll take it."

Ina looks positively aghast at the idea that anyone would crib her notes. Present company excluded, of course, provided she at least got a cut of the profits. "Pfft. Takin' the credit while muckin' about gripin' 'bout ethical behaviour, 'n 'n . . . wassat. lacking research? Unforeseen consequences, blah blah blah." ...So, maybe Ina's tried to apply to like associations before. Who knew that they'd be so stringent about cutting corners? But what's this, further fashion finagling to fund for fun? "Mmhmm. And witch retardant outfits- I bet they'd be alright with an outfit. Bit less work than customizin' outfits for the aesthetically savvy witch looking to appear their finest while not burning at the stake. ...Motto pending?" There's more shrieking in the background, and the foxkin is aware of it enough that her tails start to curl and fidget, "...What are they -doing- over there. Did someone take a bet as to how many birds they could fit in their pants again? ...That would explain why the guys were makin' such a fuss earlier. Beaks and balls don't mix- but it does make for good bets." Really, she looks almost ready to investigate were it not for what ensues, as the siren call of profit stops her right in her tracks, "Before you go takin' anythin'- let's talk shop buster. This is limited edition here right now, since I only have the one fer personal use. N' while I do like the idea of you showcasin' my wares for the discernin' buyer- I ain't parting with this prize fer free." There's a pause before she very quickly & quietly adds, "Food & small scrubby brush not included with purchase." From somewhere that is -obviously- not relevant to the current conversation, comes a small indignant outcry of "Slaver! Villain! Charlatan!" False, Maybe. Well, ya got her there- but she just seems to look a bit flattered when the third is said.

Lanlan rubs his chin pretending to be in deep thought while the abused pixie whines and complains. "Hmm, I do hear you, Trish. It's probably the only one of its kind, of course. But there is always a risk with using sentient equipment, isn't there? The risk that it could turn against you..." He continued pretending to think until he stumbled upon an apparent epiphany. "Ah! Trish my dear you truly have made an exquisite lamp I concede. But I am about to -perfect- it!" He snaps his fingers, and a temporary curse is placed on the jailed pixie. Every time it opens its mouth to speak, there are no words. Just a very mild and pleasant harp strumming. It's so pleasant that the pixie mutes himself out of spite. "An amazing improvement, no?" The shrieking of the pixie has stopped, but not the phoenix. Every time Lanlan speaks, it hones in closer to the tunnel he and Trish share. Lanlan tugs at his collar, refreshing himself a little, and pulls out a waterskin. "Does it seem very warm to you all of a sudden? This is why I hate caves. Yes, there's no sun or rain but it gets so humid, doesn't it." Behind him, the phoenix lands in the mouth of their private tunnel.

Arlyeon might have managed to keep most of her composure, neither fidgeting excessively nor grimacing during Lanlan's 'Contemplations', but she cannot help restrain the way her twin tails lash behind herself. When the illusionist finally presents his most illustrious of solutions, the fox can't help but plunk her left hand onto her hip and lean forward. "Itsa Improvement - 'cept fer two little things. S'not in the design, which means it's neitha' permanent right now, nor something able ta be flicked on or off at the whim of a user that isn't, well, you." The foxkin's other hand points as though to emphasize the comment. Straightening back up, she spins on the spot- more for the sake of theatrics, and to evoke some dismayed harping from the lantern-bound living light source, "So, can't rightly provide discounts for craftin' or service feeeeeee-" It's not her innate sense of drama that's causing the extended emphasis on the syllable, either. As the flourish brings her to face the flaming pile of plumage currently eyeing the pair (mostly Lanlan), with unrestrained odium. She gawps for a moment, only snapping out of the brief shock when the Lantern's inhabitant body checks its prison into her hip. "I. uh. You know. Third reason." One foot carefully slides back, her attention locked on the fiery avian as it begins to straighten up and extend its wings, "I mighta gotten a betta warnin' if they could sp- " The 'eek' that ensues is more panicked than poised. as the Phoenix chimes in with their own shrill squall- even as flames begin to coil up around their body, escalating the heat of the room rapidly. Ina, clever girl that she can be, is already making good on trying to figure out a getaway, as she's beating feet towards her backpack- so that she can scoop it up and fling herself towards the back end of the cavern. There was a way further down after all, wasn't there? Mostly off-limits, but better than baking.

Lanlan guffaws, "Of course it isn't permanent! Yet. I'm just showing. And that it only works for me is, I'd say, a sign. I'm destined to possess this!" Lanlan is now ready to accept victory and an extremely special lamp. "Come on, Trish. I've had such a rough time of it lately. I really need this lamp." Why did he feel he needed this lamp? He didn't know, he didn't question it. To him, it was suddenly very important. Luckily Trish was apparently defeated, she couldn't even talk properly. Certainly couldn't argue against Lanlan's last, very self-evident truth. "Haha! Trish what's wrong! Warning for what..." The phoenix demands the elf turn around. He obeys. He looks into its eyes. No familiarity to him, but from the phoenix? He recognized this look, it's been offered to him often in his life. Hatred. Burning hatred. Of him, more than anything. He felt the animosity almost as much as he felt the temperature rise. "Can you fight!?" Lanlan shrieked at Trish as he himself prepared for battle. Did the phoenix come all this way just to find him? He decided to give it what it wanted. Out of his body jumped a Lanlan, then another, then another, another, another. Lanlans filled the room, taunting the creature, shaking their buns, stretching out their noses, ears, and lips to unreal distances, before they snapped back to place like elastics. The real Lanlan pressed his heels and back against the wall where he gradually faded into the color of the stone behind him. "Go," he whispers to Trish, "Kill it!" The phoenix meanwhile was squawking and berserking against the fake Lanlans, and bursting fire through them. Dissipating them when Lanlan couldn't think fast enough to get them out of the way.

Ina’s thoughts of a quick escape are abruptly interrupted as Lanlan’s shriek redirects her attention toward the plight at hand. Her emerald gaze flickers across the confines of the chamber, taking in the pandemonium of illusive Lan’s winking in and out of existence as tendrils of flame emanate from the raging phoenix and lash out in blind fury. The sight is enough to begin sparking at a primal fear burrowed in her heart, robbing her of the means to reply to the elf's question until he’s already begun to melt away into the stone walls. “N- “ No? The word catches in her throat, even as the terror of being cornered continues to grow with every passing moment. How long until those afterimages ran out, or the heat grew to untenable heights? And would fleeing simply leave her trapped? Each new thought, doubt, and anxiety which crept in only seemed to intensify the weight of the pack- until, finally, she let it slip free of her hands and to the floor. “N-nothin’ to it.” The way her voice croaks out is not the most inspiring display, but then, she may have been saying it more for her benefit. In any case, while flight may be off the table, she’s still pretty quick to beat feet- albeit in the direction of the pickaxe she’d left embedded in the ground. Which is a bit problematic, given the sudden burst of motion from her is more than enough to garner the Phoenixes' attention, coaxing It into drawing further into the cave and subjecting everyone present to an intense amplification of temperature. Enough so, in fact, that Ina can already feel her clothes and hair beginning to smoulder.

Lanlan is all but panicking now, but he comes up with a plan. He shimmies flat along the wall toward Ina, and grabs her shoulder to pull her against the wall with him. "It's too hot in here we have to get out!" She might feel the sweat of his hand through his glove, it was saturated. "Let's go around it," he whispers, "I'll draw it away from our exit before it traps us!" A glance at the mouth of their cave would show her what he meant, at its feet and all around it, the stone was melting. It could possibly close their entrance! So Lanlan -must- draw it away. He used his magic to spawn three balls of pure force with the heft of shotputs. But he spawned them from the hand of his last remaining illusive clone! The clone taunted the phoenix by loudly doing the chicken dance, before hurling a ball into the chest of the creature. It stung, surely, but it only acted to further enrage the fire-pheasant. Perfect! It flew up what little it could, and dove toward the clone. It was fast, yes, but not as fast as Lanlan's mind! The clone dodged with superhuman swiftness while the phoenix crashed through a section of wall, instantly turning it into lava. Lanlan and Ina wrapped around the other side of the cave, while Lanlan's clone continued taunting it. Drawing its attention away from the sweaty duo.

Ina all but stumbles on her feet when Lanlan yanks her towards the wall, a sharp glance cast in his direction alongside a hissed out, "Make up ya mind, would ja?" Admittedly, flight -does- sound like the more appealing outcome, so the edge in her demeanour evaporates quickly- as though it were subject to the phoenixes' intense aura. She almost offers up something else- but instead clicks her mouth closed as he mentions luring it away- instead devoting herself to a discreet sideways shuffle forward, a stealthy shimmy, if you would. Mostly, anyways- since it's hard not to stagger when a piercing shriek fills the cavern in tandem with the magical missiles pelting the Phoenix. For a brief moment, the vixen's expression is a mask of terror, as the bird's flaming wing span arcs out to a terrifying degree, but its ensuing ascent into the air and vacation of its former spot is all the enticement Ina needs. "Exit stage leee-...right? ...Right." Subtlety is briefly eschewed as the foxkin hopscotches over the still-warm segment of the cavern floor that had formerly served as the Phoenixes' perch. But it's resumed quickly enough once she's clear of that patch, so that she can stealthily begin speed walking clear of the back area. At least- until a second high-pitched squawk echoes forwards, this one filled with a perfectly interpretable sense of -rage-. What the pair had missed in their discreet departure was the Phoenix briefly looping around Lanlan's phantasmal projection- if only to run one of its wings against the ceiling of the cavern- dropping a gout of smouldering rock down onto its presence. And whilst it certainly does take a few moments to peer at the aftermath, both the lack of broken and/or flailing body, alongside a decided lack of odour of cooked flesh has certainly clued it to the idea that -something- is wrong. "Running sounds good."

Lanlan knew at the same time as Arlyeon, they were effed. Even if they were -expertly- camouflaged, the phoenix would kill them on accident by melting the cave on top of them, or heating the place up so much their blood evaporated. And it was raging now that it discovered its been duped. So Lanlan charged his insignia and his feet floated slightly above the ground. The tattered shreds at the end of Lanlan's sleeve become prehensile fingers, that wrap around Arlyeon's wrist and knot themselves. Then kinetic energy explodes at Lanlan's feet as he leans forward, propelling him and Arlyeon toward the small exit of the cave. It's impossible to concentrate on blending into the rapidly changing background while he moves like this, and they both become clearly visible again. They had one advantage, but it would expire soon. Lanlan could accelerate quicker than the phoenix, but it would catch up to him in a few seconds. "Where should we go!? What's nearby!?' They probably had a few seconds to choose a place to hide or fight.

Ina would normally make a crack about being handsy, but she's too busy marvelling at just how quickly they've managed to burst free from the confines of the cavern. "Can we do that again?" There's a sort of exhilaration that paints across her expression, only further emphasized by the gasps of fresh air finding their way down her throat- and the sharp chill of the wind. ". . . When we're not bein' chased. Or sweatier than a sailor." The desperation in the elf's tone helps to sober whatever bits of exultation that their flight had fostered, "Mine supplies. Might find somethin'." Her face scrunches up, her body beginning to twist and coil in tandem with the rapid shift of her thoughts- and helped along by the cloaks hold on her allowing the occasional bit of obliviousness when it comes to Gravity. "Woods. Temple, plenty o' peeps. ...Bridge? Wait, bad fer us." Hmm. Hmm.

Lanlan was moving fast, but not too fast to think. He was too fast to think AND concentrate on going real fast AND talk. He dragged Arlyeon into a different part of the cave. Earlier he scared the miners away and many of them abandoned their things. "Get what you need! I'll keep distracting it." The urgency was real. Most magicians could probably protect themselves from the phoenix's heat wave. It was essentially a volcanic biome that followed it. But Lanlan could only distract, misdirect, buy seconds. He created a conga line of himselves, dancing and clapping. They also talked shit to the Phoenix. It couldn't understand the language, but it could understand the tone. "Phoenix thinks he's hot fire," begins the leader of the conga line,"but he's actually cold diarrhea!" The following members of the singing troupe echo the leader, "Cold Diarrhea! Cold Diarrhea! Cold Diarrhea!" The phoenix incinerates them in a second with a wave of its burning wing. "What's your plan," Lanlan asks as he whisks Arlyeon away again. They gave the phoenix a momentary delay, but now it was keen to his moves, and wouldn't be satisfied by anything less than the real thing. The real Lanlan. "Bridge? I know the one." Lanlan and Arlyeon escaped the cave with the shrieking phoenix hot on their tail.

Once they got to the path to the North, it became harder to hide. And though Lanlan through his magic could get an initial burst of speed, the phoenix would inevitably catch them. In the second before the phoenix emerged from the cave, Lanlan prepared an ambush. He recalled an open ocean, roaring waves, salty water, and brisk wind. It formed in his mind, and then when the Phoenix flew out, it formed in its face! A massive illusionary torrent of water slammed into the phoenix, engulfing its entire body. It was convincing! The phoenix fell, believing in the force such a jet would deliver. It believed it just endured a flood big enough to douse a wildfire. The problem was, the phoenix didn't think it was enough. The phoenix didn't think anything could douse its flame right now. Its blazing aura dipped in temperature for a second, then recovered. Lanlan and Arlyeon were already zipping away, like a little silverfish in a basement.

Ina s' mention of a bridge was -not- in fact part of some grand scheme. She'd simply wanted to see if her luck would pan out if it came down to a dramatic collapse. It's the absolute -worst- reason to seek out that area. But intentions are something entirely different from results, and the subtle crash of water that's now beginning to echo from the other side of their intended destination reminds the fox of that fact. "Uh." I said, it reminds her of that fact. "Yesss. The falls. All according to plan. If we live that long." That's a really good point, actually. With that in mind, Ina begins to reach into her pack, lobbing biscuits and other items behind herself- partly to help with the whole process of escaping, but mostly so he can finally free up the Mithril skeleton of an Umbrella. "Two things, Can you maybe, uh ... part the water at the bottom of the falls. Falsely? 'n how long can you hold your breath?" There is probably supposed to be some sort of clarification to this comment- but Ina doesn't quite manage it, as a gout of fire that laps out from the phoenixes vicinity does a more than adequate job of evoking a high-pitched yelp from her, sending her skittering to the ground on all fours for a brief moment, before she bounds forward and resumes the illusion of having dignity. Fleeing for one's life -really- hampers that dignity, tbh.

Lanlan was focused on two things: running away, and the phoenix that hated him. "Trish I'm not jumping off a bridge." He quickly tried and failed to weigh the options. "I don't think." So maybe he would, but he hoped there was another option. He needed to think of something to distract the phoenix with, the problem was he couldn't think of anything concrete enough to hold in his mind. Panic! "What do I do...what do I do?" Lanlan summoned magic hoping to come up with something soon, he knew he could. He hoped he would. The phoenix shrieks! He's too afraid to look behind him but he can see his pursuer in his mind's eye. Scarlet plumage superheated the air around it creating an aura of blazing fire, burning through everything it touched. Everything it -almost- touched. A second phoenix shrieks! This one's right in front of them, guarding the bridge. "Oops." Still intending to make use of what he has, he forces his fake phoenix to blow fake fire at the real phoenix and take evasive action. Meanwhile, Lanlan and Arlyeon fly toward the bridge.

Ina wants to be helpful, so in the vein of providing more assurances that their options aren't as narrow as they seem, she blurts out the first thought that crops into her head. "It's fine. I brought an umbrella." This is definitely the worst plan. That said, it doesn't stop her from continuing to hurry along as quickly as she can, doing her best to keep pace with Lanlan- in part because he seems to have some solid plansssss, "Snap. What. No. What." Her feet want to come to a skidding halt, but she's quickly reminded of his hold on her. Mostly because she nearly faceplants as he continues towards the emergent second phoenix. "Uuuuuhhhhh." She finds herself bracing for impact, an uncomfortable heat washing over her form as they sidle past the phantasmal bird- but it never reaches the intolerable levels of its twin, which now hovers in the air in front of the first, shrieking and spewing out fire at the newfound challenger. Really, it's a pretty arresting spectacle, enough so that it takes the fox a few moments to become aware that the roaring in her ears isn't her panicked blood flow, but the gradually intensifying rush of water from the waterfall. "...I might have an actual plan now? ...Jumpings still an option, though."

Lanlan screens himself and Ina with his phoenix, which gradually grows in size and apparent threat. Though the phoenix was certainly after different prey, it couldn't easily ignore a usurper. This was the real phoenix's territory! Not this faker. This poser thought it could show up and claim a mountain just because the occupant was busy hunting down tiny creatures? No. It attacks. Beating its wings it flies almost straight up, preparing to dive-bomb the larger phoenix. When it reaches the apex of its flight, hundreds of feet into the air, it throws its weight behind and tucks its wings down, angling its sharp beak down. It gains speed rapidly shooting toward Lanlan's illusion. Lanlan sees his error now, inevitably the phoenix will plunge through his illusion and into them, or into the bridge they walk on. "Oh you do? Haha how nice. What is it?" Lanlan pressed his hands down on the bridge's ropes, lowering the clearance in case he needed to jump.

Ina is doing her best to rapid-fire figure out the means of blurting out the clever bit of insight that had occurred to her. Unfortunately, it takes the Phoenix less time to reach the apex of its climb and let out a murderous shriek of challenge, than it does for the foxkin to trim the fat on what was undoubtedly going to be an excitable ramble. "Uh." A quick glance is given over to Lanlan, who she notes already seems to be preparing for some evasive maneuvers. And frankly, that seems like the best scenario given the living comet hurtling down towards their position. Which is probably why she wastes absolutely no time in filching a folded-up umbrella out from her backpack. Hence armed, she then decides the best course of action is simply to expedite Lanlan's escape plans- which is to say, she takes hold of one of his hands and promptly elbows him over the ropes. Not that it's intended as a manic free fall, given that even as her own choice of anchor will undoubtedly see her slipping after the illusionist- her own sense of preparedness allows her to hook the bottom of the umbrella around one of the ropes- so that they can instead just precariously dangle in a position that's hopefully out of sight. "...Not dying? There's more to tha' plan, I promise, but first steps first, ja know?"...Really would make for a good start, really, given that the phoenixes tackle sends it slamming through its illusory opposition, hurtling into the bridge with enough force to send a violent ripple shuddering through planks and rope alike, and leaving Ina making altogether undignified grimaces of discomfort. Sure, smithing things meant she had sturdy arms- but this was already a bit much- and that wasn't even factoring the way that the phoenix's sheer proximity was rapidly spreading flames across the surface it now stood upon, as it scoured the area in search of it's prey. "This was tha' best plan." Because saying that makes it true.

Lanlan was preparing to jump. It seemed like he might have to, no more time to outrun this thing, nowhere to hide. So he was ready to jump! But -not- to fall. Or be pushed. As soon as he goes over the ropes, he yelps, and his illusion disperses into what it always was. Nothing. The phoenix, preparing for a midair tango with a burnt poultry even larger than itself, sizzles through the air and then the bridge, evaporating a massive section of it instantly. Lanlan and Ina arc down toward the cliff of the chasm under the arch they just walked through. Lanlan is not a strong man, but he is fairly dexterous. Along with the fluffy hand he holds, he manages to wrap his fingers around Ina's fluttering tail to provide additional stability when they slam into the wall. The phoenix beats its wings desperately, trying to halt its movement, to sail up and away. It does angle its body such that its head doesn't plunge first into a solid wall. Yet it can't avoid a cataclysmic crash, and it tumbles gracelessly into the icy waters hundreds of feet to the bottom of this gorge. An opaque explosion of steam envelops them and everything they see. Does Ina manage to keep her grip on her umbrella? Does the hook of that random tool luckily stay entangled in the bridge's ropes while they jangled against the wall? Then Lanlan will struggle to see signs of the burning turkey. Too stunned and maybe concussed to think clearly, to confirm whether this plan was good.

Ina tries her best to keep a grin affixed to her face, if only because faltering now would mean acknowledging that she screwed up. That said, it's a little bit hard when she finds one of her twin tails being gripped on, something which has her letting out a long hiss that only ends when the subsequent slam into the wall knocks the wind out of her. "Hwa-haaa-haaaaa-ow." Really, it wouldn't have been surprising if she had relinquished the umbrella in that moment, and begun plummeting. But then, between the combined weight of the pair, and the rather detrimental state of the bridge- she doesn't really need to, as the rope simply frays first. "...Oh." It's possibly the first moment that some form of maniacal grin isn't painted on her face, as they both begin to veer down toward the ground. At this point, it's an almost hellish descent, as plumes of fog are beginning to expand out from the cliff's bottom- a mixture of steam and mist from the falls billowing up, errant cinders providing an almost hellish luminescence in an otherwise inscrutable mess. ...Ina's a bit too distracted to take note of that though, if only because the Umbrella is slightly jammed from its rough treatment. The odds that it'll even be able to slow their descent is pretty low, especially with two people, but hey, maybe it'll be the difference between being a sad pancake, and just a mostly broken body. ...Right? "...Uh. It's stuck."

Lanlan sees their predicament. "Oh is that some kind of magic umbrella that will keep us afloat even if the ground falls out from under us?" He's hopeful, but the nonsense he suggested actually seems plausible given Arlyeon's affinity for whimsy, doesn't it? Yet her face suggests otherwise. Maybe. He only thinks so. It's hard to read her fluffy face for him. "Well. Redundancies are fine. Just work on getting that umbrella out. We might...need it?" To facilitate this, he lets go of her hand so she can use both on the umbrella. Of course, this means that he still has her tail. Anyway with his now free hand, he activates his drow insignia, one of the only things left of his old house. The most important survivor other than himself. Trish takes Lanlan's place as cargo.

Ina gets the distinct impression that she might be able to sweep Lanlan in Poker, even without filthy luck bending cheats. That said, it's a pretty poor solace for things, given that within the span of a few moments, she finds herself penduluming beneath Lanlan in a decided undignified and painful manner as the levitation takes hold of him, and -then- her. It's only after this course of events that she finally manages to unclick the umbrella with a sad pop, their remaining downward momentum in tandem with the spell serving to bring her up a bit more level with the mage. ...Though, not enough that she feels safe without a hastily shuffled hand reaching over to tug at his sleeve. "...Yeah. Aaaaaall according to plan." Beneath them, the swells of mist and fog continue to billow- lit up only by a dull glow that would seem at home in guttering embers. It's ominous enough, and has the foxkin double-checking her current item. Wonky 'redundancy' aside, the Mithril frame of the Umbrella doesn't seem like it's at risk of folding. What's more, its more central aspect is certainly intact- given that a very faint trickle of glowing dust billows outwards from their position. Pixie dust, in all its flammable and hallucinogenic glory. The flammable parts are less of a concern given the growing damp chill- but some part of her is still holding out hope that its primary trait might be of some value in the face of the enraged rooster.

Lanlan noticed the glowing in the mist also. "It's still alive!?" He was almost panicked. They'd be sitting ducks like this. But...the phoenix, if it was alive, wasn't making any noise. Maybe it's only a little bit alive... "We'll have to finish it off," said Lanlan decidedly. "Let's go." They floated gently but with murderous intent. "What's that? What's that dust? Pixie dust?" Lanlan had almost no choice but to put faith in Trish. "I thought you'd just...pummel it or stab it. What are you gonna do with that?" They descended delicately through the mist toward the center of the orange glow. This thing didn't know what was about to hit it.

Ina blinks. So many times. When she finally does speak, however, her voice comes out a fair bit quieter, so as not to further arouse the ire of the creature below. "'m not usin' this ta smack it? This was just fer the way down. ..And uh, to see if it worked. Excellent trial run, ten outta ten." As the ground began to loom up beneath them, Ina braces- but there's never quite the sharp shock of impact. "...Okay, that float-y thing is actually pretty great." That said, she doesn't immediately peel off into the mists- instead using those moments to click the Umbrella closed, before stretching out her limbs and working the soreness from hanging about in various poses. "Just lemme limber up a lil' aaaaan'. . ." She promptly hip bumps to the side. What she -doesn't- get is a complaint, as by this juncture in their slapdash journey, her poor pixie prisoner has been jostled silly and is pretty unconscious. ...Probably. In any case, she feels less anxious about opening up the lantern hitched at her side, and offering up the fae to Lanlan. "Hold onta this, wouldja? I'da used the pickaxe, but- well. This'll do in a pinch." That sorted out, she slings the wrought iron lantern over her shoulder, and begins to ...bravely....sneak in the direction of the glowing, now keenly aware of the soft trill of breath that can be heard even through the roar of water.

Lanlan and Trish descend safely to a patch of elevated rock. Behind them is icy water. He can tell because of the wild torrents that rush past and sometimes splash droplets into his clothes. "It's useful, yes and..." Lanlan didn't know what else to say. He'd never seen someone stretch like this at such a crucial moment. "Okay..." Then she offers him something in one hand. He takes it. "What's this? Oh!" He flings it away from him, not expecting to see a living thing. The pixie bounces off the solid rock like a rag doll. He scurries over to scoop it up again. It's at least unconscious. Maybe a little broken. "Gross," Lanlan says, as he accepts it. Then Lanlan catches up to sneaky Trish, skulking behind her trying not to hold the tiny creature too tightly.

Ina might be constantly vacillating between various stages of panic, but she wouldn't be a proud member of the Arlyeon family, if her common sense wasn't perpetually out to lunch. It definitely helps with taking these moments in stride- which is also why she finds the time to spout out, "Break it, ja buy it." It's definitely broken to some degree. 'It's fine. This is fine.' This is the mantra she repeats in her head as they continue skulking forward, her grip on the lantern's handle tightening until her knuckles begin to whiten. By this point, the gleam of embers is dazzling- partially by virtue of the phoenixes form looming up before them, and partly from the pixie dust that hung in the air adding a certain vividness to it. With a sharp intake of breath, she recognizes there's no longer any time to lose, her formerly stealthy steps shifting to a spirited sprint. Whilst it's normally not good practice to offer up a brief whistle before a sneak attack, there's a weird sort of calculated aspect to it- since it turns its head just in time for Ina to swing down the Lantern into its face. It's a decisive blow, one which rings out with the sound of the glass panes shattering. For a brief moment, there's a sense of savage satisfaction- as the long time spent serving as Nikola's apprentice Smith (and Gopher), doing simple manual labour has made that strike far more effective than she expected. ...But not nearly enough, given the way its head levels back up, and it affixes its gaze on her. "Uh." Well, if at first you don't succeed. . . "Put ja back into the follow-up." Water-logged feathers splay out along with a burst of steam, as the foxkin lurches forward and provides a solid second swing, wrenching the Phoenixes neck back- before it finally gets its bearings and slams one taloned claw into her chest to send her sprawling off to the side. She's just gonna take a moment to nurse her ribs. It's fine.

Lanlan saw what was about to happen. He flicks his wrist. Nothing happened. He does it again. Nothing. Normally, his glass wand would fly to his hand. He stoops over and shakes his sleeve out and a few pieces of glass fall out of it. In retrospect that wand survived much longer than it should have. He'd love to help! Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything. "Oh good hit!" He says encouragingly, as Trish wallops the phoenix. She whops it again, but it's not enough, the phoenix retaliates, flailing its body, legs, wings. In its panic, it connects with a sloppy almost accidental hit! But it sends Trish away. "Man, I wish I could help, too bad I have to hold onto this...thing..." He looks down. The rocky ground has some loose stones. "Hm." Lanlan gently lays the fairy on its side and puts a rock on its wings, holding it down. Then he picks up another rock! It's just barely something he can pick up. He heaves it up off the ground and pushes it up at the same time he crouches. The only way he can get it over his head. "Damn fire turkey." He runs up to it and shotputs the little boulder in a low arc that lands right on the phoenix's neck. It's flattened again. Lanlan scurries away in time to avoid its flailing. "Don't let it up!" Lanlan pelts it with more rocks.

Ina lets out an almost involuntary "HAH!" when the rock slams down on the phoenix's neck, even despite the ensuing shock of pain that reverberates through her chest. But just as the foxkin is in the process of staggering back to her feet, the Phoenix, too- begins the arduous process of trying to scramble itself free. At first, it looks like it will make no progress, and yet- the air begins to grow humid, the dull lustre of its feathers beginning to once more brighten as it looks its gaze on the illusionist. "Hey." Animosity-filled memories are sent spiralling into the aether as the lantern is brought down like a cudgel onto its skull, a spatter of steaming blood spraying out under the impact. The rock atop it shudders, heat-weakened material beginning to slough off as it tries to rear up. "Wouldja." The second hit is more deliberate, the foxkin jumping up with the strike, only to bring the entirety of her body weight down on its skull. It's not rage that tinges its scream anymore, but an abject sense of fear- a defiant desire to live, that highlights the ebbing glow of its body. "Just." The third strike breaks something, its skull deforming with the impact, its neck twisting to an odd angle, even as it lets out a laboured breath. "Stay." It's almost like the foxkin is trying to even out the damage, when the next strike lands on the adjacent side of its skull, twisting its neck to a new impossible angle- and yet, whether it's some stubborn tenacity born of its nature, or the innate twitches of a dying body- it's talons spastically scrabble at the ground. "Down." There's no more pause for words, the rise and fall of the lantern beating out a steady rhythm that almost seems to drown out the thunder of the falls, and the pulse of her temples. With every strike, the phoenix's body grows that much dimmer- that light seeming to slither its way up the foxkins arms, until all that's left is an unrecognizable mess of crumpling ashes. "... Already. Huff." Her skin stings, droplets of still cooling blood staining her features- and more importantly, marring her shirt into an unrecognizable mess. It's when she tries to flex her fingers that she realizes the full extent of the damage, however. Even the ache of her ribs pales compared to the sting of her now blistered flesh- slowly cooked against the metal of the Lantern. "...I hope ja know a medic." That said, she sinks down to her knees, a long sigh issued into the welcome chill of the falls, as the icy chill resumes its dominance.

Lanlan made his contribution. Now his role was to sit and enjoy this unexpected brutality. It was very unbecoming for a phoenix to meet its end in such a graceless way, but it was also exactly what it deserved! "Bravo!" he says while clapping, and an illusive, invisible chorus joins in with the applause, whistling and whooping. Lanlan walks up with his hands on his hips. "Wow. They actually do that huh? So weird. Yeah. But how do they come back to life then?" As he stared at the small mound of ashes, a long orange feather floated lazily past his face, immune to any wind or breeze. Soon it would land directly on the peak of the dead phoenix. "Aha!" Lanlan snatched it out of the air, clutching it in a gloved hand...immediately his glove burst into flame! For a second he resisted letting it go...this was treasure! But the pain...so he loosed it into the air again and about-faced, diving onto his belly and sliding like a penguin toward the edge of the rock beach they were on before shoving his arm up to his shoulder into the rushing water.

Ina side eyes the feather from her spot on the ground, the pain in her palms seeming to resonate with the heat it gives off. And yet, her hands also seemed to give off a similar wave of warmth, a dull angry glow swimming beneath the surface of her skin- courtesy of the essence she'd leeched during her murderous act. For a moment, she considers trying her hand at filching the newfound item, "...I don't have a cap ta stick this in." Whether it's merely a morbid remnant, or perhaps plays some part in the Phoenixes' cycle of rebirth, she isn't actually all that keen on sticking around, so she instead scuttles her way over to a spot alongside Lanlan, and begins to cool her hands down in the water. Whilst it works to a degree, the moment she draws her hands clear, the stinging begins to resume once more- something which coaxes a rather frustrated huff on her part. "Wish ja were a cat, so I could beat ja ta death another 8 times. Friggin git'."That aside, she gives a little nod to Lanlan, "Thanks, 'n all. Ja really helped in gettin' clear of them mines. And uh, getting the rest of this done. If ya ever wanna do somethin' like this again, lemme know."