Post by Jaezred Vandree on Nov 26, 2021 15:13:46 GMT
The Mountain Palace was noticeably quite empty when Jaezred arrived there. It seemed everyone was busy — the few people he saw were rushing around on different errands with barely any time to chit-chat. Queen Nicnevin was nigh impossible to get a hold of except on strictly urgent business.
However, there were still a handful of places buzzing with the activity of courtiers of lesser import, uninvolved in the search for the anchor and going about their comparably slower day. He saw a couple of satyrs in the middle of a bender in the cocktail bar, a tabaxi stumbling out of a room amidst a cloud of purple smoke, and Urisalor the warlock counting leaves in a corridor made entirely of ivy. Jaezred pulled up a stool to sit down and throw metaphorical peanuts at the latter whilst he worked yet another pointless impossible task, but left before the younger man could get too annoying.
When Jaezred returned to Imryll’s chambers before dinnertime, the spring eladrin was already back, standing at her alchemical work desk, mixing some strange liquids.
“Ah!” She smiled when she saw him walking in. “I didn’t realise you would be visiting today, or I would have tidied the place up a bit.” (The room was immaculate as always.)
“Dearest,” he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “How are things? Any progress? What are you working on?”
“No, sadly… I’m actually heading back out again soon, though. Rather annoyingly, people are getting tired looking for this anchor, so I thought I’d see if I could mix something up to get them going again…and a drink for myself, of course!”
His gaze wandered across the workstation, which was littered with a myriad of frustratingly unlabelled bottles, although she seemed to know exactly what each contained. “Ah, I see. So a mass poisoning event is going to happen soon in the palace.”
She shot him a dry look. “No… Just among several dozen out in the field this time.”
He chuckled and sat down on the nearest recliner, lighting a pipe. “I do have some news, albeit rather small. Remember the Collector? The troublemaker in Port Ffirst who dresses similarly to Farstep?”
“I do…”
“I’d arranged a parlay between them and that friend of mine they’d been harassing over the past year. Just as they were about to shake hands and lay their disagreement to rest, however, the Collector received a message from Farstep himself, or one of his simulacra.
“Apparently, the Collector had been hired by Jack and Farstep to collect rare things for the two of them. Items and biological substances that mix well with both arcane and mechanical things and do not disintegrate easily in the presence of arcane energy. They’d promised to make the Collector a god in exchange for their services, and the moron just believed it. And well, now they’re the victim of Farstep’s latest con. Farstep just told them that their deal is off.
“But cutting the Collector loose at this time probably means that their machine is complete, or at least very close to it.”
“Ah…so they had even roped in outsiders to help them find things,” said Imryll. “That is interesting, but sadly a little too late. Since the Lady of Pain is already in negotiations, we had assumed as much already about their readiness.”
She stopped what she was doing to pinch the bridge of her nose and take a deep breath. “I don’t suppose this Collector was too happy with the news? Do they fancy helping us find this machine at all?” She let out a chuckle as she asked, already knowing the answer.
Jaezred put his pipe away. He stood up and walked over to his paramour, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She relaxed and leaned her head into the comfort of his embrace. “I tried. Promised them revenge and rewards alike. But they were too upset, and they have a dislike for adventurers after we did to their property whilst under my friend’s employ,” he said. “You know, I really was expecting them to have more of a connection to Farstep. They both have the same godsawful taste in fashion, the same sense of entitlement, the same massive ego. But no — just another sacrificial pawn in Farstep’s game.”
“That’s a shame. Not that I expect they would have been able to share much. Langston seems a careful and devious one… I think I’m going to enjoy seeing the smug look on his face, just so we can wipe it off!”
He smiled into the kiss he planted on her head. “I know I can’t help you with this right now, Imryll, but I’ll be here whenever you come home, with a warm cup of tea or a meal.”
She slotted the alchemical vials she was mixing into a stand and turned around to face him. “Ah, now, that is the kind of thing I can get used to! Perhaps even a little uniform? Something to show off those legs!” she teased him, clearly enjoying the distraction from work.
“I’d respond with a humorously ambiguous answer but I know you’d go and actually have it made if I do, so I’ll just shut up.”
The wicked grin returned. “Oh well, if you wont give me anything, I guess I'll have to get creative myself!”
“Speaking of getting creative…” He looked around the room. “Where is that thing?“
There was a quizzical look on Imryll’s face before she realised what he was looking for, upon which it turned into one of curiosity. She pointed at the balcony — the eerily life-like bear statuette was propping the door open. “I found it tied up in my robes when I walked in, if you can believe it… Of course you do, you gave me the damned thing.”
“It…put on your robes? Well now.”
“It doesn’t quite have my figure, I know…”
He laughed as he went to pick it up. When he turned back to her, he fished out a glass bottle containing a thick, viscous, white liquid from his pocket and wiggled it, a devious grin on his face. “Do you know what this is?”
She stared at it for a moment, and then her expression mirrored his. “Oooh… Where are you thinking?”
“It’s your room. Where do you want it?”
“Oh… I thought we could harass someone with it, but if we are only putting in here…”
“Wait, I mean, we can put it on Urisalor’s back if you’d like.”
Her vibrant green eyes lit up. “…You know where he is?”
“The ivy corridor. Counting leaves.”
Her face broke out into a wider and eviler grin as she grabbed the statuette and headed for the doors, with a laughing Jaezred following at her heels, the bottle of sovereign glue in hand.
“Now, what’s the plan here? Mage hand? Distract him while you stick it on? Tackle him to the floor and wrestle him into submission?”
“Wouldn’t you love to see that. Mage hand, naturally. Combined with a little distraction.” Whilst saying that, he uncorked the bottle and summoned a mage hand to dip a finger into the mouth, getting a dollop of the glue, and smeared it onto the base of the statuette.
“Of course I would. The two of you, tossing and turning, tearing at each other’s clothes…” she giggled as they rounded a corner into the ivy corridor. Urisalor was still there, albeit closer to the opposite end of the corridor now, quietly murmuring numbers to himself as an index finger bounced up and down in the air.
“How about you distract him with your charming self, and I do the sticking?” Jaezred whispered.
Imryll winked and handed the statuette off to his mage hand. She strutted down the corridor past Urisalor, then turned to stand in front of him as he was crawling along the wall to count the lower leaves. She said something in a soft voice to him, and he answered once or twice, before getting visibly annoyed, standing up, and shouting, “NOW I LOST COUNT, ARE YOU HAPPY!?”
She responded with a laugh and caught his arm just as he was about to go down to the other end of the corridor where Jaezred was, turning him towards her, and continued speaking. And leaving his back exposed to the silently approaching mage hand holding a bear statuette. Jaezred’s cheeks were puffed out as he tried hard to contain his laughter.
The hovering spectral hand gently stamped the statuette to the sea elf’s back, holding it in place for a second as Imryll continued to talk, before disappearing. Urisalor was none the wiser. Finally, she finished her monologue with a wicked grin, stroked his face with one finger, and strolled past him back to her paramour. He muttered something to himself with a sigh, and turned around to follow her to the other end of the corridor, preparing to start counting again.
As Urisalor stood on his tiptoes to peer at the topmost leaves, Jaezred put on an innocent smile and folded his hands behind his back. “That’s a bold new outfit you’re trying to pull off, Urisalor. The creepy ornament attached on the back? Really quite eye-catching,” he commented.
The warlock looked at him in confusion, but as his body shifted, he felt the foreign weight on his muscles and started reaching behind his back with his hands, and his face twisted into a look of horrible realisation.
Jaezred took Imryll’s hand and they ran off together cackling, with Urisalor screeching a caterwaul of curses after them.
When they thought they’d lost him, breathless in some lonely corridor, he grabbed her by the waist with both hands and pushed her up against a wall as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and his lips captured hers in a passionate kiss.
It’s good to take a break from saving the world once in a while.
Co-written with the amazing Anthony.
However, there were still a handful of places buzzing with the activity of courtiers of lesser import, uninvolved in the search for the anchor and going about their comparably slower day. He saw a couple of satyrs in the middle of a bender in the cocktail bar, a tabaxi stumbling out of a room amidst a cloud of purple smoke, and Urisalor the warlock counting leaves in a corridor made entirely of ivy. Jaezred pulled up a stool to sit down and throw metaphorical peanuts at the latter whilst he worked yet another pointless impossible task, but left before the younger man could get too annoying.
When Jaezred returned to Imryll’s chambers before dinnertime, the spring eladrin was already back, standing at her alchemical work desk, mixing some strange liquids.
“Ah!” She smiled when she saw him walking in. “I didn’t realise you would be visiting today, or I would have tidied the place up a bit.” (The room was immaculate as always.)
“Dearest,” he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “How are things? Any progress? What are you working on?”
“No, sadly… I’m actually heading back out again soon, though. Rather annoyingly, people are getting tired looking for this anchor, so I thought I’d see if I could mix something up to get them going again…and a drink for myself, of course!”
His gaze wandered across the workstation, which was littered with a myriad of frustratingly unlabelled bottles, although she seemed to know exactly what each contained. “Ah, I see. So a mass poisoning event is going to happen soon in the palace.”
She shot him a dry look. “No… Just among several dozen out in the field this time.”
He chuckled and sat down on the nearest recliner, lighting a pipe. “I do have some news, albeit rather small. Remember the Collector? The troublemaker in Port Ffirst who dresses similarly to Farstep?”
“I do…”
“I’d arranged a parlay between them and that friend of mine they’d been harassing over the past year. Just as they were about to shake hands and lay their disagreement to rest, however, the Collector received a message from Farstep himself, or one of his simulacra.
“Apparently, the Collector had been hired by Jack and Farstep to collect rare things for the two of them. Items and biological substances that mix well with both arcane and mechanical things and do not disintegrate easily in the presence of arcane energy. They’d promised to make the Collector a god in exchange for their services, and the moron just believed it. And well, now they’re the victim of Farstep’s latest con. Farstep just told them that their deal is off.
“But cutting the Collector loose at this time probably means that their machine is complete, or at least very close to it.”
“Ah…so they had even roped in outsiders to help them find things,” said Imryll. “That is interesting, but sadly a little too late. Since the Lady of Pain is already in negotiations, we had assumed as much already about their readiness.”
She stopped what she was doing to pinch the bridge of her nose and take a deep breath. “I don’t suppose this Collector was too happy with the news? Do they fancy helping us find this machine at all?” She let out a chuckle as she asked, already knowing the answer.
Jaezred put his pipe away. He stood up and walked over to his paramour, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She relaxed and leaned her head into the comfort of his embrace. “I tried. Promised them revenge and rewards alike. But they were too upset, and they have a dislike for adventurers after we did to their property whilst under my friend’s employ,” he said. “You know, I really was expecting them to have more of a connection to Farstep. They both have the same godsawful taste in fashion, the same sense of entitlement, the same massive ego. But no — just another sacrificial pawn in Farstep’s game.”
“That’s a shame. Not that I expect they would have been able to share much. Langston seems a careful and devious one… I think I’m going to enjoy seeing the smug look on his face, just so we can wipe it off!”
He smiled into the kiss he planted on her head. “I know I can’t help you with this right now, Imryll, but I’ll be here whenever you come home, with a warm cup of tea or a meal.”
She slotted the alchemical vials she was mixing into a stand and turned around to face him. “Ah, now, that is the kind of thing I can get used to! Perhaps even a little uniform? Something to show off those legs!” she teased him, clearly enjoying the distraction from work.
“I’d respond with a humorously ambiguous answer but I know you’d go and actually have it made if I do, so I’ll just shut up.”
The wicked grin returned. “Oh well, if you wont give me anything, I guess I'll have to get creative myself!”
“Speaking of getting creative…” He looked around the room. “Where is that thing?“
There was a quizzical look on Imryll’s face before she realised what he was looking for, upon which it turned into one of curiosity. She pointed at the balcony — the eerily life-like bear statuette was propping the door open. “I found it tied up in my robes when I walked in, if you can believe it… Of course you do, you gave me the damned thing.”
“It…put on your robes? Well now.”
“It doesn’t quite have my figure, I know…”
He laughed as he went to pick it up. When he turned back to her, he fished out a glass bottle containing a thick, viscous, white liquid from his pocket and wiggled it, a devious grin on his face. “Do you know what this is?”
She stared at it for a moment, and then her expression mirrored his. “Oooh… Where are you thinking?”
“It’s your room. Where do you want it?”
“Oh… I thought we could harass someone with it, but if we are only putting in here…”
“Wait, I mean, we can put it on Urisalor’s back if you’d like.”
Her vibrant green eyes lit up. “…You know where he is?”
“The ivy corridor. Counting leaves.”
Her face broke out into a wider and eviler grin as she grabbed the statuette and headed for the doors, with a laughing Jaezred following at her heels, the bottle of sovereign glue in hand.
“Now, what’s the plan here? Mage hand? Distract him while you stick it on? Tackle him to the floor and wrestle him into submission?”
“Wouldn’t you love to see that. Mage hand, naturally. Combined with a little distraction.” Whilst saying that, he uncorked the bottle and summoned a mage hand to dip a finger into the mouth, getting a dollop of the glue, and smeared it onto the base of the statuette.
“Of course I would. The two of you, tossing and turning, tearing at each other’s clothes…” she giggled as they rounded a corner into the ivy corridor. Urisalor was still there, albeit closer to the opposite end of the corridor now, quietly murmuring numbers to himself as an index finger bounced up and down in the air.
“How about you distract him with your charming self, and I do the sticking?” Jaezred whispered.
Imryll winked and handed the statuette off to his mage hand. She strutted down the corridor past Urisalor, then turned to stand in front of him as he was crawling along the wall to count the lower leaves. She said something in a soft voice to him, and he answered once or twice, before getting visibly annoyed, standing up, and shouting, “NOW I LOST COUNT, ARE YOU HAPPY!?”
She responded with a laugh and caught his arm just as he was about to go down to the other end of the corridor where Jaezred was, turning him towards her, and continued speaking. And leaving his back exposed to the silently approaching mage hand holding a bear statuette. Jaezred’s cheeks were puffed out as he tried hard to contain his laughter.
The hovering spectral hand gently stamped the statuette to the sea elf’s back, holding it in place for a second as Imryll continued to talk, before disappearing. Urisalor was none the wiser. Finally, she finished her monologue with a wicked grin, stroked his face with one finger, and strolled past him back to her paramour. He muttered something to himself with a sigh, and turned around to follow her to the other end of the corridor, preparing to start counting again.
As Urisalor stood on his tiptoes to peer at the topmost leaves, Jaezred put on an innocent smile and folded his hands behind his back. “That’s a bold new outfit you’re trying to pull off, Urisalor. The creepy ornament attached on the back? Really quite eye-catching,” he commented.
The warlock looked at him in confusion, but as his body shifted, he felt the foreign weight on his muscles and started reaching behind his back with his hands, and his face twisted into a look of horrible realisation.
Jaezred took Imryll’s hand and they ran off together cackling, with Urisalor screeching a caterwaul of curses after them.
When they thought they’d lost him, breathless in some lonely corridor, he grabbed her by the waist with both hands and pushed her up against a wall as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and his lips captured hers in a passionate kiss.
It’s good to take a break from saving the world once in a while.
Co-written with the amazing Anthony.