RP: Wide Eyed, Blind

Part of the Welcome To The End Of Eras Arc

Summary: Kasyr attempts to negotiate with a representative of the Undead Quarters. Which, as ever, remains loaded with accusations of eminent domain, genocide, and concentration camps.

Steep Rock-face

The path north is interrupted by a sudden and steep incline, at the top of which a great castle is poised, peering down upon Vailkrin. The way on would be almost impossible if not for a series of zig-zagging staircases which have been carved into the stony face, making access to the castle somewhat more practical if still paralyzingly precarious.

At the edge of the jagged staircase, a small kitten sits and surveys the scenery. A faint purr can be heard from its velvety rust-coloured chest. As she'd threatened, the dryad had sent the cat to deal with Vailkrin politics. Unlike the humanoid hosts, the kitten is completely uninjured and does not wear an eyepatch. That would be silly, and counterproductive. It prefers to see. Despite the lack of trappings, the kitten clearly is one of Lefty's lackeys. The faint glow from the left eyesocket leaves no doubt. As the meeting time draws closer, the kitten paws at the glowing eye, dislodging it onto the damp ground. Steam rises into the air, and the kitten vanishes. The cloud of steam spirals and hisses, "Yessss, this will do."

Kayrs' descent from the castle is leisurely, in large part because the number of requests has slowly dwindled over time- largely due to the end of the embargos, and the new jobs which have opened up across the city. Even with his awareness of how unpleasant his meeting with Lefty was apt to be, the uninterrupted walk to their location was relaxing. The fresh cup of Mandragora tea certainly didn't hurt, either- though there was something slightly offputting with the way the liquid seemed to trap just the faintest hint of it's famous scream, reduced to a sort of soft keening that sounded akin to the sound of a finger tracing the lip of a wine glass. Admittedly, Kasyr missed the theatrics with the murder-mitten-wielding minion transmogrifying into smoke - but, he felt Leftys presence all the same, and the voice carried in the wind. "Evening."

"You wanted a meeting," the steam hisses softly into the air. The steam may have seemed theatrical, but it was entirely necessary when dealing with narcissistic drama queens. Since Lord Azakhaer tends to throw temper tantrums when dealing with actual people, and the pendant being still at large, the eyeball had to get creative with his communication methods. "I am here, and of course, at your service." Lefty hopes that this meeting concludes quickly. The steam will run out with the moisture, which is limited. Almost as limited as the eyeball's patience. Being called hither and yon makes his job quite difficult, not that Kasyr will ever admit to being a hindrance to progress.

Kasyr doesn't seem that bothered by the irritation that was somehow being emoted by ...vapor. Well, it wasn't the weirdest thing he'd seen today. "I appreciate it, though- the matter of discussion at hand was more in regards to what could be done for the undead quarters, in order to increase their ability to lobby, and come to any diplomatic table as an equal- without relying on threats of force, that may backfire." There's a pause taken there, perhaps for emphasis, perhaps to give Lefty time to contemplate what was being said, and offer some suitably sarcastic retort. Realistically, it was so he could take a sip of tea. "As much as you, and others, have accused me of being a Tyrant- I should mention that I have, historically, been the house that's largely been in charge of spearheading every effort to bring rights et equality to your people in this city. Et the one that helped the initial council form, et Redhale take power." Another pause, another sip of tea, "Though, perhaps that's part of why you chafe. Your largest benefactor, since his departure, has been moi- given I also have a large stake in the various construction companies which clean up every mess made in this city. Even during the long years I was personally absent." Was he being petty? Perhaps. But a bit of expository shaming felt overdue, after the last few meetings.

Lefty superheats more water droplets to form his reply. "So, you pulled me away from diplomatic conversations with the Mages Guild and lobbying in order to tell me to begin diplomatic conversations and lobbying. That sounds very efficient." This is all delivered with complete sincerity and no sarcasm whatsoever. "It seems that most of the threats of force are coming from you. It's a small wonder your naysayers name you Tyrant. And while we're talking about history, your house has also been the 'spearhead', as you put it, in undead rights violations. Your people have a long history of playing both sides of the fence, purely to claim the side of right when one fails." The eyeball had done much research into the unfolding events, including completely calm and rational conversations with those hardest hit. The picture Lord Azakhaer paints does not reflect the prevailing accounts of the survivors. Perhaps, that's Kasyr's biggest annoyance: that his victims survived. "My largest benefactor has been the Necromancer's Guild, but we are digressing. You were going to dictate a completely biased and inefficient political agenda that puts the undead at a disadvantage while painting it as liberation." There's a long inhalation as the entire cloud is drawn into the now-black cat before puffing back out. "As for why I chafe. Your involvement in the Lady's death does not sit well with me."

Kasyr might have rolled his eyes in the midst of Leftys speech, only offering a non-commital, "Not quite." but otherwise allowing them to offload everything over their- well, not chest, but the point remains- there'll be no interruptions, just a still silence. One accompanied by the kensai peering over the edge of the stairwell. "I tried to -avenge- Ginger. The one who slew her was Kuzial. Et the one that orchestrated that event-" It had taken long years to grapple with the truth of the matter, but at the end of the day, the drow's words, and the necromancers own ambitions were hard to overlook. "Joliette. Or Tenebrae, as you might have known her as. She was inconvenienced by Ginger's authority- so sought to remove it." Which was, no doubt, a part of why she'd chilled to him, as both his power and authority grew. He'd grown beyond the scope of being a pawn to move across the board at her whimsy. "And non- I was not going to -ask- you to lobby for anything. I was going to make an offer- in the same vein that I once had to Ginger, in the same vein Redhale likely would have wanted. I'll ..address your other comments after" There's a pause there, because he's almost positive that Lefty would have interjected some sort of derisive snort, but, he doesn't allow it much room to ramble, "I am unsure of how...aware you are of the city. Not of the people, but the city itself. There were changes done to it. To the point that to call it Vakmatharas' city would be a lie. There's a song in the breeze now. But more than that, " His eyes cast to the distant darkness, and to the sight of a falling star- reminiscent of those that had fallen the day Caluss had died. It was not the only one, either. "The scent of the sea. Vailkrin's domain has long-held curiosities at it's heart. But this is -new-. An untapped possibility of resources. Of things to trade. An entirely new facet of the economy that has yet to be claimed by a house." He'd allow the implication to sit for a moment, before he proceeded, "While the way there rests close to where we stand- et would, perhaps, be claimed by the crown in another instance- the undead quarters needs something to be able to come to the negotiating table as an equal, even the eyes of those factions that are less charitable." He sips the last of his tea, before casting the glass over the edge. "I was also going to ask if your people would be willing to take on the task of customs, and the tariffs for both exports and imports. It makes far more sense on that front- and would certainly help to provide independent income. Since while I do intend to keep the promises I've made in the papers, et privately, as to the expansion of the necropolis- at least some independence from the crown, et whoever holds it, should better serve the people."

"I've never been super aware of the city, since it was made clear over a decade ago that the undead weren't welcome there. Perhaps that is changing." The voice is lighter as the steam drifts away. "I can ask around for volunteers within the community to take up the task of customs. Certainly someone is interested in trade agreements and such. I don't fully understand the commodities you speak of, but I'm sure things will clear up with time." The last of the vapors fade and the kitten picks up the eyeball once more. The kitten's fur returns to the dark rusty hue, and it scampers over to a new patch of moisture to drop its master. Steam hisses and boils again. "Was there anything else?"

Kasyr watches the curious process- as Leftys voice dissolves with the steam, and then is ferried over to a puddle by the cat. It only takes a few more seconds for the idea of the mechanism to dawn. With one fluid motion, a scalpel slid from the sleeve of his coat, then drawn up like a conductors wand, "Rhew." comes the words, but they're accompanied by something else, a simultaneous subvocalization that transmutes what -should- have been a spell to create ice, into a flexible, almost sword-like column of water- which is directed over to the eyeball with a surprising degree of, well, fluidity. "Quite. And, any initial construction needed for said maritime endeavours will be subsidized, I should note." Still, Lefty asks, and the Kensai can't help but answer- because, in all truth, there is. "I do want to clarify something. If I come off as brusque, it's because I've been required to step up et be this city's first et last line of defence, time et time ago. Before, during, and after those times I held the crown- whether it was Vuryal, Joliette, Larewen, demi-deities, ou otherworldly creatures." There isn't any sort of pride to be found in the statement, nor joy. It's said as a simple, tired, point-of-fact, wrapped in a vestige of bitterness, "I don't ask people to die for me. I don't send people off to fights that I won't stand at the forefront of. Which es why I take every slight made personally. Especially when I'm accused of being negligent." He can feel a hint of heat to his words, and he pauses. "If you feel threatened by me, it's not with the intention of making you compliant. I do not want to see the city I love- perhaps the last thing I have -left- to love, to fall to ruin. And I -will- not abide it being toppled in someone's bid for power." He tries his best to smooth out the tension he can feel in his face, his gaze flickering back to the sky, and it's now unfamiliar constellations, "You seem genuine about your concern with the undead's welfare, however. So, as long as you're willing to come to the table, and negotiate- rather than leverage demands with the threat of finishing the job Caluss started- ..if that is what you -intended- your comment in the paper to mean. We'll fare well enough." Kasyr needs a smoke, which is depressing, because while he has a surfeit of sharp things on him, he forgot his cigarettes. "I do have a question beyond this, but-" He waits, perhaps in large part for the eyes retort(s).

Lefty finds his mode of communication easing with the increase of water. "My comment in the paper indicated that rampant murder would not be tolerated on either side. I indicated that I would personally end hostilities with extreme prejudice, whether it be undead or otherwise. Might not determine right, but it sure as hell will determine who's left. My comments were a show of force to -cease- the systemic eradication of undead that you claim in private to have no love of, but in the paper wholeheartedly sponsor. For someone who supports undead welfare, you certainly built a lot of concentration camps. I'm working with you in the hopes that the harmful undead be neutralized however necessary, and the harm caused by you be mitigated by a cooler head. You seem intent on purposely misconstruing my words while denying any responsibility for your own actions. Why would I want to finish the job Caluss, and House Azakhaer, started? By all accounts, that unpleasantness harmed the undead, much like your veiled threats imply you wish to continue. I want a peaceful resolution. I always have. I don't want power, I want the undead to be left to live their unlives without your constant persecution." The steam begins to glow red as Lefty's words grow more heated, both figuratively and literally. "But you said you had a question. I'm. . .well, not all ears, but I'm listening."

Kasyr would offer one point of genuine contrition, "If you say that I misinterpreted your words- please believe me when I say that was an err. I interpreted your statement as a show of forced based on the vastly increased number of undead in the city." And yet, whilst he was willing to acquiesce on that point, the rest of Leftys statement fell somewhere beyond the pale for the Kensai. His hands lift up, making something akin to a frame- the revenant glimpsing at some distant point, before the world shifts around them. Perhaps shift was inaccurate, because what the pair would witness, was the very space around them folding inwards- two points within the dead city seemingly compresssed together by their perspective, only to back back like an elastic- only they stood at the opposite end. Now safely nestled within the heart of the Necropolis. Around them, various bodies bustled- by and large undead, overseen by a cigar-smoking Gargoyle, and a few vampires that seemed to be part of his crew, and were thus tolerated. The streets and ground were still uncomfortably packed- but already, new edifices were being constructed, fresh catacombs being dug. Even older structures were being expanded upon. "Ah yes- the lack of support the crown is providing. I wonder where the housing companies that I run might be. Where the efforts are all centralized." There's acid in his voice, which seems to reverberate in the air, even as reality once more subjects itself to some queer form of dimensional Origami. Their next arrival is within the city itself- to take a place within the very hub of the vampiric quarters that seemingly galled Lefty so. Streets, and homes which still showed signs of the damage from the conflict which had consumed the city- and whose restoration seemed to be moving at a slower pace. If at all, in the case of certain grand houses, which now lay entirely in ruin, cordoned off by members of the city guard- small banners noting a possibility for infected remnants, perhaps to deter would-be robbers, or to signal a real and present threat. "You claim the necromancers guild your greatest friend et benefactor, but I've done everything I can to provide them with the funds et tools they needed. I -made- the requests to help the census, to work with Xalious in order to properly root out the signs of corruption." Again, the world splits around them- spitting them out this time towards the cities outskirts, the dark woods emerging around them like some otherworldly diorama- the border guard that patrolled the forest's edge distant shadows. "You want to know what I've cordoned off from the city? Behold!" Whether the idea of the camps had been borne of Leftys imagine, or through malicious murmurings- it's doubtful that the undead would have imagined the structures which lay before them. Broken palisades, wreathed in spider-silk, bearing the tattered banners of drow houses. Some still carried signs of life, suspicious eyes peering out at the figures which had flickered into being conspicuously close- but others lay abandoned, no doubt as the remnants of the undead massacre sought to return, to reclaim what had been stolen from them. "The drow encampments. The survivors of Trist'oth, weak et starving. With nowhere to go, they only had the forest. Who, despite all their pride, required protection from us. No doubt, in part, due to Quintessa's efforts to stir the populace into massacring them- to provide a scapegoat, for the sake of her politics. Even if it would have seen the city painted as a dangerous element to be dealt with." It always seemed to veer back to her, didn't it? Every effort he made to move forward, and there was always a reminder that her ambitions would bubble to the surface- ruining every attempt at redemption the others might pretend she aspires towards. His teeth ground against each other, "You lay the blame for what happened at my feet- but the one who let him in, was the one who openly -worshipped- him. House Blackwell. The -only- reason she es not another body in the necropolis, is that she had a final change of heart- et helped me to punctuate the sad story of his existence." His hand swipes forward- the air between them parting, a surreptitiously produced scalpel providing him the means to carve a tear through reality- a far different means of transportation, though one that ultimately affords Lefty more of a choice in the matter. The ability to simply float away, into the halls of the necromancers guild, and yet, "Ah, but my question. You blame my 'people' for playing both sides- and imply the same from me. You call me tyrant, even when I -freed- your people from the yoke of an oppressive regime, and saw the slave markets shut down. -Why-?" Because that sort of animosity did not seem aimless.

Lefty, being the ocular undead that he is, is quite adept at observation. Upon viewing the first scene, he comments, "Housing companies is a great euphemism for forced relocation and labor. It was always the go-to of the leech overlords, albeit, you have always been better at spinning the story." When the vista changes, Lefty remains unaffected, despite the wreckage. "Providing funds? Or bribing to cater to your agenda? As for the census, it's a great excuse for removing basic freedoms from a specific demographic. I'd applaud the politics if they weren't so abhorrent." The steam lightens as the eyeball regains control of his emotions, something he hadn't needed to do since, well, ever. Uncontrolled emotions were encouraged under his old master. "I believe wholeheartedly that you are working with Xalious. They sent me a wonderful note about how all undead should crawl back into their graves and stay dead. I don't doubt that you support this." Lefty watches the vista change once more to the drow camps. "You and Lady Blackwell are singing the same tune, but different verses. You point the finger at her, she points the finger at you. I feel for the drow, and would love for them to get help." The kitten pops out of the steam and bats wildly at the peeking eyes of the various refugees. "As my compatriot has noticed, your solution is not sustainable. I don't have the resources to help them, and you lack the desire. It seems we're at an impasse on their welfare." A few hissing pops of sublimating liquid calls the kitten back into the cloud. "It's not blame to state the truth of a matter. I've seen how you operate. You always take the most profitable deal, until another comes along. Morality plays no part in it. You say you 'freed' my people from an oppressive regime. I say it's going from pot to kettle. Both are steaming, neither one is free. The true test is simple: If your rule is as just and good as you say, then I won't need to act. The undead will be true citizens."

Kasyr should probably be thankful that he's had years to reign in his emotions, because however indignant he may seem- it pales compared to what's bubbling beneath the surface. Every pointed remark to tyranny digs a little deeper, and sweetens the idea of indulging in the very accusations levelled, albeit at an unfathomable scale. The sort of gesture that countless had used to command respect through fear. The easier route- a blighted chalice. "And those citizens aren't as blameless as you pretend them to be. So, act in their interests- and stop them from -hampering- the expansion of the necropolis, or stirring up to start a fresh genocide. The last thing Vailkrin needs es to look like a threat to the rest of the continent." He was trying his best to keep the disgust out of his voice, but it was getting harder, "And maybe have your vessels take a harder look at the initiatives that were put in place, to provide employment opportunities for undead et vampires alike." Especially the undead, and notably well compensated based on the contracts that were posted. But no doubt, even when it was investigated, it would likely be chalked up to some fresh insult. Elevating the undead because they weren't able to help themselves. Coddling them like children. But then- these displays hardly proved otherwise. "That said, if the true test is time and results. Then this meeting is adjourned. Just stay out of my way, and I'll get things done, as I always have. Despite the ambitions of the vampire houses, the interests abroad, et your own best efforts to immolate." That, perhaps carried the most undisguised venom of all- but there was little time to retort, because the Kensai was already gone, the singular remnant of his presence being a faint scorch mark on the forest floor.