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Post by Tiger on Oct 1, 2014 21:22:46 GMT -5
“Uh...yes. That’s what we were doing,” Leif agreed. He was going to have to get used to dealing with drunk people very fast. A pity adapting to new situations wasn’t one of his talents. Leif stuffed the bottle into his satchel so he could help steady Morgaine if she needed it and still carry his wand. “Stay close to me, all right? This is a bad place to get separated.” Also hoping they wouldn’t run into any more out-of-control horses and their drunken riders, Leif led the way toward the smell of baking food. He had assumed it was the pastries that were usually served at Medievilleian festivals, but as they drew closer, the smell started to seem...off. Leif couldn’t quite place why, and there wasn’t much room to ponder it. The crowd was getting to be a mess; Leif was surprised he hadn’t noticed just how bad it was before. More people than usual passed out against buildings and tents and out on the grass; people constantly lurching into their way; people stumbling into them; lots of shouting and terrible singing and the growing sound of a band whose pipe-player was clearly not entirely sober (or was just terrible); another horse-rider, though this one was content to ride it at a walk through the crowd and simply point down at people from its back, slurring something incomprehensible; someone had let a pen of chickens loose… By the time they reached a clearer spot on the pathway, Leif was fighting the urge to cast a silencing charm and a shield around himself and Morgaine so there would be some quiet and some space. Grumbling to himself, Leif straightened his halfcloak and looked around to get a better sense of where they were. He could see the band he’d heard before; they were another group of Lyellian performers, standing on a small hill. An area presumably meant for dancing had been ringed off with low ropes of flags; there weren’t too many people there now, or at least not many dancing. A number of stalls were placed around the perimeter of the makeshift dancefloor - though it would certainly be a clever place to sell drinks, none of the stalls seemed to be selling juice. And the smell that had led Leif this way was much stronger now. It was burning bread, mostly, but there was still a strong, strange tang Leif couldn’t quite place. Maybe some Lyellian dish Leif simple didn’t recognize. “Well, Mrs. Braham? Does any of this look like - ” A loud fwhooom!, a burst of firelight, and a chorus of “ooooh!”s cut Leif off and made him jump. He turned toward the source of the light, expecting a stand to have gone up in flames - but then he saw a small crowd of people, Lyellian and Kythian both, judging by their dress - gathered around a food stall. Like most of the people cooking food at this festival, the vendor was baking on a tray set atop a stone basin filled with burning coals. This particular tray held several very dark pastries. Instead of taking the clearly-burnt treats off the tray, however, the vendor splashed something onto the fire to make it flare up, to another gale of laughters and impressed sounds. The pastires were scorched and Leif caught a fresh whiff of the weird, tart smell. “Is that burning fruit?” Leif wondered aloud. “...Oh, ‘Woo - they’re throwing that juice on the fire, aren’t they?” He would have rubbed his temples in irritation if he had a free hand. Then it occurred to him - maybe if they were throwing juice on the fire, they had more than one bottle of it. They might have gone back to the vendor and bought more juice. If Morgaine didn’t remember where the stand was, maybe the baker and her crowd did? ...Though the fire antics didn’t speak highly of how sharp their minds were at the moment. Moving to another part of the festival and finding some people playing with alcohol and fire. What a great combination! \ o /
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Post by Shinko on Oct 1, 2014 23:04:49 GMT -5
Somewhat surprisingly, aside from staring wide-eyed at everything Morgaine followed Leif more or less reasonably, without any slurred chatter aside from one or two fits of giggling at a passerby. Her footsteps were unsteady, and occasionally she tripped and forced Leif to grab her before she could fall, but otherwise she wasn't causing any problems. When she caught sight of the antics of the bakers, however, her expression went oddly blank. She clenched her hands into fists, clenching her teeth with barely suppressed fury. " Hey!" she bellowed, staggering away from Leif's side towards the group. "Do you lot have any idea how... how dangeroush thish ish? That'sh fire, what if you burn shomebody?" "Calm down, miss," the baker said, looking very much amused. "I ain't on a bender, swiped this from my boss when he passed out a while back. Just putting on a bit of a show, y'kin?" "N-no, I don't kin," Morgaine slurred, waving her arms dramatically. "You could r... really hurt shomebody with that. Y-you could k-k-kill shomebody with th-that!" "I'm not going to-" He started but the locksmith wasn't listening. She tried to push through the crowd, but one of the drunken spectators had apparently had enough. "Push off!" the man shouted, giving Morgaine a hard shove that sent her sprawling backwards. "He ain't hurtin' nothin', sho beat it y'old hag!" "Now, there's no need for-" the vendor was saying in a panicked voice, but no one was listening to him. A second drunk had punched the one who pushed Morgaine, and several more grabbed the two aggressors to hold them apart from each other. Unfortunately they were still straining at each other, and the stunned locksmith still hadn't managed to collect herself to get out of their way. Morgaine doesn't like people playing with fire. Wonder why that might be? She tries to intervene, but accidentally triggers the beginnings of a drunken brawl. Though right now cooler heads are keeping it in check. Will it blow over or escalate? Up to you Tiger!
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Post by Tiger on Oct 2, 2014 21:54:56 GMT -5
Morgaine went off on the vendor and the crowd. Leif was inclined to agree with her; even if the vendor was sober, his common-sense was definitely questionable. He hesitated to follow her quite as close to the crowd, still bristling from the mess they’d just gotten out of - and he regretted that lapse when someone shoved Morgaine backwards. Leif felt his temper snap and hot anger flared in his chest as he hurried forward to help the locksmith. He automatically pointed his wand at the aggressor, but another drunk man punched him before Leif’s threat could even register. Others in the crowd hurried to hold them back; Leif took advantage of the brief moment to ask Morgaine, “Are you all right?” and pull her out of the way of the oncoming brawl. “Oh-ho! It’s a Jade she’s got with her!” jeered one of the drunks, the dark-haired man who’d pushed Morgaine. “ That’s why she’s badgerin’ us! Thought you took your shtuffed-up priest back t’Corvus!” Leif glared back at him. “Really? If I was here to ruin your party I’d have summoned a raincloud to drop some Corvid rain onto your stupid bonfire.” He raised his wand slightly. “Maybe I should, anyway - might jar you back to your senses. Not that it’d be much improvement, if it just takes some drink to make you push over a woman half your height.” ...I probably should be trying to calm these idiots down, Leif thought. Judging by the glares he was getting, though, he might have already burned that bridge. Looking past the brawlers and to the vendor, Leif asked, “Do you know where your boss bought the juice from? We need to find - ” “You gonna shut down all the stalls, too?” the drunk man interrupted, shoving off the people holding him back and stalking up to Leif. “Blighted nobles, gotta shove yer noshes in our busis- busy- our shops an’ act like you’re doin’ us a favor!” There were a few cries of agreement. Well, that isn’t a good sign...“I’m looking for one stand,” Leif said, holding up a single finger. “One stand, that’s selling alcohol as juice and getting people who don’t want to be drunk drunk, and - “ “You just can’t let people have a little fun, can ya?” The man glanced back at his supporters. “We ain’t afraid of a wizard, are we!” Leif could smell the ale on the man’s breath. “I don’t have time for this,” he said impatiently, but he was counting the number of potential fighters. It looked like four or five total. “If you want us gone,” he looked to the vendor, “just answer our question - where did your boss - “ “Oooh, he’s gonna try ignorin’ us!” “If you could shut up for ten seconds, we’d be out of your ‘pit-stained hair!” Leif snapped. This was apparently just the sort of trigger the man had been waiting for - he lunged at Leif, fist swinging. Leif ducked back, jabbing his wand instinctively toward the grubby fingers that snatched at his sleeve and snapping a stinging hex. The fingers retreated - but already the crowd was dissolving into a bigger fight - the man who’d punched the dark-haired idiot who’d shoved Morgaine had gotten free and resumed the original fight, and some of his friends leaped into the brawl as well… Leif hurried himself and Morgaine out of the crowd as quickly as he could, his heart pounding. This really shouldn’t have been quite so stressful - these weren’t exactly armed and armoured Courdonians after all - but the mage really didn’t want to get punched, or get Morgaine hurt, on top of everything else. “Are you all ri- “ he started to ask Morgaine, only to be cut off by a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye as one of the brawlers came toward them. Leif cast a shield spell in front of the man and he struck it was a clap, falling back onto the cobblestones. Leif caught sight of the vendor, quickly backing away from the growing scuffle as well. He felt a little guilty for escalating the fight - and he probably wasn’t going to get any answers from the vendor over this scuffling. Leif brandished his wand, debating what to do - he could start firing sleeping or paralyzing spells, but that was going to get people trampled in that mess. He needed something to stop them all at once - maybe just something to surprise them... “Mrs. Braham, you might want to cover your ears for a moment.” Leif flicked his wand; there was a flash of green and then the loud sound of a thunderclap just over the heads of the brawlers. “... Agwoomenti,” Leif added, just for good measure. “Done?” Leif asked the startled crowd. “Get out of here, go find somewhere to sober up. You - ” He looked toward the vendor and was finally able to ask, “Do you know where your boss bought the juice from?” Oops, Leif made it worse. But it’s okay, he fixed it...at least for the moment.
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Post by Shinko on Oct 2, 2014 22:38:29 GMT -5
Morgaine was badly dizzy, and barely registered it when Leif started dragging her away from the brawlers. When one of the men shouted that she was trying to ruin their fun because she was with a Jade, she growled softly. "No, no, no, no," she muttered, probably inaudible to anyone except Leif. "I just don't like fire, stop, stop fighting..." No one listened. The arguing just kept escalating, and Morgaine wished she could be anywhere else but in the middle of all these screaming people. What was the point even, of getting drunk if you weren't going to have fun? She hated angry drunks, because they were frightening and there was no fathomable reason why they would chose to become drunk when being angry was in no way fun. Suddenly Leif all but dragged her upright, pulling her away as the fighting broke out in earnest. She staggered, clinging desperately to his arm because between the drunkenness and the confusion of her earlier fall she wasn't sure she'd have been able to stand otherwise. She could feel an occasional buffet on her face or shoulder from someone's flailing elbow, and yelped in pain- surely at least some of these blows were going to bruise. Finally, Leif seemed to have had enough. He warned her to cover her ears, and she instinctively did so. A tremendous thunderclap boomed over them, and a few seconds later the entire assemblage was doused in cold water. “Done?” Leif asked the startled crowd. “Get out of here, go find somewhere to sober up. You - ” He looked toward the vendor and was finally able to ask, “Do you know where your boss bought the juice from?”"Ah... n-no my Lord Jade, sorry," the man said, his eyes fixed fearfully on Leif's wand, though they occasionally darted nervously to the still grumbling assemblage of drunkards. "He left me in charge of the stand when he went to get something to drink. I don't know anything." Meekly the man added, "Please don't shut me down? He'll kill me if he finds out I lost the entire night's custom, I won't play with the alcohol anymore." Meanwhile, Morgaine had taken the chance to examine herself, as best she could. When she'd been shoved initially she had fallen on her right arm, which was now slightly bloody from scrapes and abrasions, and beginning to turn purple from bruising. She also had a bruise on her face just under her missing eye and a few on her shoulders- all from the escape from the fighting crowd. The old woman laughed softly. "I'm shorry, Mashter Leif. I'm shupposhed to be helping, but I jusht keep making it worshe. Leasht I'm good for entertainment, I guessh? Belial alwaysh thought sho, he laughed all the time when I got drunk." Her jaw clenched. "I don't like people playing with fire. Losht my temper. Then, then I guessh I losth everyone's tempersh." "Are you alright?" the vendor asked Morgaine. "No," she said bluntly. "I'm drunk on juicshe and I'm bruished and I would like to have my brain back pleashe. But life'sh unfair that way, and I gotta suck it up." She glared at the man who'd pushed her. "And if we shut down the shtand, the juicshe guy can suck it up too." The man bristled. "Why you old-" Morgaine picked up some scrapes and bruises, but apparently wasn't hurt badly enough not to be a smart mouth to the guys Leif just got to stop fighting.
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Post by Tiger on Oct 4, 2014 17:41:58 GMT -5
Leif pointed his wand at the man. “Don’t tempt me,” he snapped. “Clear out of here; consider yourselves lucky I don’t report you to the guard.” He glanced to the vendor to include him in that statement; reading emotions wasn’t Leif’s strongest skill, but he thought the man was scared enough to keep his word. He really hoped so, anyway. Leif felt like finding the juice stall was the most important priority, and it would be a waste of time to report the stand to the guards or handle the matter himself. Nobody had been hurt from the fire, after all, and the juice was getting plenty of other people into very dangerous situations. Besides, he really needed to split up Morgaine and the pack of drunkards before more fighting broke out. “Let’s go find some better company, Mrs. Braham,” Leif suggested, leading her away from the crowd. He realized there was blood on her arm; when they stopped again and he looked a little more closely, he saw some bruising on her face, too. “Here,” he helped Morgaine ease down onto the grass for a moment. “Let me heal your arm and the bruises. I’m sorry that got so ugly. That stupid man...hopefully he finds himself sleeping in the lowest city gutter tonight.” He worked in silence for a minute, wondering why the fire-play had set Morgaine off so badly. Maybe there wasn’t a logical reason for it; or if there was, it probably wasn’t good to talk about while the locksmith was drunk, flopping between moods and lower in inhibition. It would be unfair to ask about personal things at a time like that. Instead, Leif remarked, “Maybe we need to go somewhere else for information than random vendors on the street. Especially if they think I’m going to shut down their booths.” He smiled thinly, humorlessly. “Are any of the other local merchants working here, do you know? We might have more luck with someone who knows you personally.” Strategic retreat, followed by healing and Leif asking if Morgaine knows whether any Medievillian merchants are working at the festival, so maybe they can go ask someone more amenable for information.
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Post by Shinko on Oct 4, 2014 18:58:32 GMT -5
When Leif sat her down and offered to heal her bruises, she grinned up at him. "Thanksh, and don't be shorry. You didn't punch me, or push me, or hit me with your elbow. You just got the guysh wet, like woooooooosh!" She chuckled. "Shut 'em up, at leasht." The old woman let Leif heal her wounds, remarking, "I wonder where they go- the injuriesh you heal with magic. Does the magic vanish them away, or doesh it make new shkin flow over to closhe them? Flow like a river almosht. A green river- your magic ish green a lot, I notishe, why ish that?" Abruptly, she leaned forwards so that her face was burried in Leif's halfcloak. "I 'unno about the merchantsh, lemme think... I know Clare had a delivery of shweet meatsh to drop off, but if she shtuck around she'da got drunk on real booze, not even bothered with juicshe. If she'sh shtill here she'sh probably more hammerd'n I am." The locksmith laughed at that, turning her head sideways so that she could lean her shoulder into Leif's chest more comfortably. "The jewelersh might be here sellin' trinkets, I buy shtuff from them for Rosie'sh ornate keysh... Oh!" She sat up pointing an excited hand down the street. "I know him! That'sh the candy man, he makesh shweetsh that Roshie buysh... he musht be shellin' to the festival goersh." The woman lurched to her feet without waiting to see if Leif was following, walking towards the man in question and waving to him with drunken enthusiasm. As she drew closer to the stall, however, she noticed something that made her hesitate. There was someone lying next to the stall, asleep to all appearances, with his arms curled around a large sack of sugar. "Leif! Leif, I think Kirin'sh over here!" she knelt down next to the sleeping man, who was indeed Kirin Mao of house Stallion. His face was flushed a brilliant scarlet, and his expression set in a dreamy smile. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. "Kirin? Kirin, you okay? ...Where'sh your shirt?" Morgaine gets cuddly again, then she sees a vendor she recognizes and darts off to say hi... only to find a cameo hiding behind his stall! Hi Kirin!
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Post by Tiger on Oct 4, 2014 21:42:44 GMT -5
“Well, the theory is that wounds don’t go anywhere - the magic just helps natural healing go faster.” There was more to it than that, of course, but Leif refrained from adding it. “As for the color, I don’t think anyone knows for sure. There’s a couple ideas, but…” he shrugged. “Only ‘Woo knows for sure.” Quite suddenly, Morgaine leaned up against him - not even just against him, she was making herself very comfortable in the fabric of his shirt and halfcloak. Apparently Morgaine’s moods were not the only thing influenced by alcohol. The locksmith continued the conversation completely naturally, as if she were not practically cuddling with him. Leif tried to focus on what she was saying and on keeping still so he didn’t jostle Morgaine, instead of his almost over-awareness of the weight of her head on his chest and the way it pulled at the shoulders of his shirt. His archmage blocks might be gone, but he’d lived with them much longer than without them. At least now, Leif could rationalize when someone’s need for physical contact outweighed his discomfort, and act accordingly. Morgaine started listing people she knew who might be at the festival - and in condition to help - before suddenly spotting a candy merchant and starting after him. Leif hurried after Morgaine, momentarily relieved because it seemed like they might have a potential lead. By this point, he ought to have known better. "Leif! Leif, I think Kirin'sh over here!"“What? Kirin?” Leif picked up his pace to a full run despite the short distance remaining - even though he could instantly guess was had happened, his mind also instantly brought back the memories of finding Kirin wounded and abandoned in an alleyway… It was of course immediately obvious that that wasn’t the case this time. Given that everyone at the festival except Leif seemed to be finding their way to this juice stand, the fact that Kirin liked sweet things to an almost dangerous degree, and his flushed face...Leif was a little surprised not to see an empty juice bottle on the cobblestones beside him. ...He was also very surprised to see Kirin without his coat. Or his shirt. Kirin’s face wasn’t the only one red now. “He - he must’ve had some of that juice,” Leif said, kneeling down beside Kirin and giving him a gentle shake as well. “Kirin?” He repeated the Stallion’s name, a little more drawn out. No reaction. “Clearly he doesn’t have your tolerance for alcohol,” he remarked to Morgaine. “He must’ve been pretty drunk to leave his coat somewhere.” Kirin’s dragon-hat was gone, too, Leif realized. Hopefully he’d left it at Stallion manor instead of somewhere at the festival...the coat might be overlooked, but there was no way the same could be said of a golden hat. Absently brushing some of Kirin’s hair out of his face, Leif said, “We need to get him out of here.” Glancing up at Morgaine and reassessing her height and her own unsteadiness, rephrased, “Well, I'll take care of actually getting him out of here - you do need to come with me, though.” He tried to think where to take Kirin that would be both safe and a decent place to wake up - Leif didn't envy the hangover he would probably have. The options were limited since Leif probably couldn't carry Kirin too far, and he would rather not Levwoocorpus him through the streets...people tended to think mages were hovering dead bodies when they did that. Stallion Manor was definitely too far away. Marson Manor was within reach, Leif thought, but the Marsons weren’t great hosts at the best of times…and if any of them had purchased the incredibly alcoholic juice... The King’s Arms, on the other hand, was practically nextdoor to the manor, and came with private rooms besides. There was the strong possibility of Ilsa being drunk as well, but as far as Leif knew, she was no less effective at running her inn for it. And the walls might be thick enough to tune out any drunken noise, something Marson Manor didn’t offer as effectively as Leif might like (though renovations had at least left the outer walls impervious to the pickaxes, chisels, shovels, and light pushes that had plagued them during the weeks Leif had first lived there). “Okay - let’s take Kirin to the King’s Arms,” Leif said, working the cord of his necklace free from his halfcloak’s clasp and then removing the garment from his shoulders. “I’ll get him up. Why don’t you ask the candy merchant about where the juice stand is, Mrs. Braham?” Leif suggested, tapping his wand to the cloak and holding it there until the fabric had lengthened to the size of a full cape. “That way we won’t have to backtrack.” Leif worked the sack of sugar out of Kirin’s arms, and sat the Stallion up for a moment to fasten the lengthened cloak around his shoulders. He was probably being overcautious - it was spring, not the dead of winter, after all, and this sort of weather probably was balmy to a Bernian - but Leif still felt like it was a little too cold to be shirtless. Sober Kirin would probably have appreciated a shirt, anyway. With a bit of effort, Leif got himself and Kirin upright; the Stallion was a bit taller than Leif, and certainly the stronger of the two of them. If not for the dangers a drunk archmage would have caused before passing out, Leif might have thought this would be easier the other way around. He looked to Morgaine to see if she was ready to leave yet. ...Getting both her and Kirin to the Inn was certainly going to be an adventure. Leif and Moragaine find Kirin passed-out from the juice. Oh noes! Leif spends a billion words reacting to and dealing with this before deciding they should take Kirin to the King’s Arms, and asking Morgaine to ask the candy merchant about the juice stand.
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Post by Shinko on Oct 4, 2014 22:47:06 GMT -5
The candy merchant walked over to them as Leif knelt next to Kirin, rubbing his hands with a bit of cloth. "Friend of yours?" "Yesh," Morgaine said, smiling up at the man. "He'sh Kirin Mao, of Houshe Shtallion. This upshtanding archmage ish hish shignificant other, Leif Jade. And you already know meeee." The candy man quirked an eyebrow at the locksmith, his face reflecting amused bewilderment. "Morgaine Braham? That you, drunk as a Bernian on holy feast day? Miss Dylas is never going to let you hear the end of this." The old woman laughed, "This didn't happen on purposhe, I shwear. What'sh Lord Kirin doing here?" The candy merchant smiled ruefully. "He showed up here about an hour ago, out of his mind with drink and begging me for some of my wares. Gave him some at first, but when he kept askin' and askin' it didn't seem right to just keep takin' advantage of a drunk man's money, so I told him no. He couldn't even stand up straight by that point so he just sorta curled up with the sugar bag, whimpering kinda. Then he passed out. Been tryin' to keep an eye on him since, see to it that no theives mess with him, or idiot drunkards." Morgaine smiled broadly, putting a companionable arm on the other merchant's shoulder. "You're a good guy." "And you are clearly hammered out of your mind," he retorted, gently but firmly shoving her away. Leif, meanwhile, was affectionately fingering Kirin's hair. “We need to get him out of here.” He looked up at Morgaine, frowned, and ammended, “Well, I'll take care of actually getting him out of here - you do need to come with me, though.”"You're just having all the fun tonight, aren't you Lord Jade?" the candy merchant remarked with sympathy. Morgaine laughed. "He'sh good at thish. Broke up a brawl justa few minutes ago, sprayed water on all thier headsh to cool them off." "That a fact?" the candy merchant said indulgently, clearly not really taking the conversation with Morgaine seriously. Leif, seeming to come to a decision, said that they should head to the King's Arms- and that Morgaine should ask the candy merchant about the juice stand. He snorted. "Oh, is that why you're so out of it, Braham? This drugged juice I keep hearin' about?" She shrugged, "I would be lyin' if I shaid otherwishe. Told you I didn't do thish on purposhe. You know anything? We're gonna shut him down!" As she said this, Morgaine made an enthusiastic gesture with one arm, upsetting her balance so that she stumbled several steps forwards and the candy merchant had to reach out and grab her. "I don't, sorry- you're actually the second one to ask me that question tonight though. The butcher's niece was here earlier, angrier than a nest of hornets that's been kicked and demanding to know where the juice stand was so that she could, I quote 'punch his stupid face in.' She seemed to be none too sober herself, from what I could gather." "Clare's niece? Y'mean Elin?" Morgaine asked. Despite the fact that the locksmith had become quite good friends with Clare over the past two years, she knew Elin only vaguely. The old woman smiled crookedly, "Xavier'sh gonna have a heart attack when he hearsh about that, if he hashn't already." Candy merchant guy isn't very helpful (surprise!) but he does mention that Leif and Morgaine aren't the only ones looking for the juice merchant. Apparently somewhere out in the festival, so is Elin!
Killix if you want me to change anything about Kirin's reported activities prior to passing out, let me know~
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Post by Tiger on Oct 6, 2014 22:04:29 GMT -5
Morgaine took care of the conversation with the merchant, much to Leif’s relief. The confectioner didn’t know where the juice stand was, either, which wasn’t much of a surprise at this point - but the mention of Elin Ryer definitely was. Leif knew Elin a little better than Morgaine did, having helped the Shadow figure out and train her unusual brand of magic. That thought didn’t make Leif feel any better about the situation; Elin’s powers had almost killed her once when she was sober. Badly drunk… Well, maybe if she’s drunk, she won’t be able to concentrate enough to use them? Leif hoped that was the case. "Xavier'sh gonna have a heart attack when he hearsh about that, if he hashn't already." Morgaine said. “No doubt,” Leif agreed. “Though I wouldn’t mind if she found and punched the idiot before we got to him.” The mage’s grip on Kirin tightened a little, protectively. Yes, things had turned out all right this time, but that had been purest luck. And Kirin wasn’t the only victim of the spiked juice - not everyone would be as fortunate. Speaking of...Leif looked to the candy merchant. “Thank you for keeping an eye on him. If there’s anything I can do for you in return, let me know and I’ll do my best to see that it’s done.” Morgaine had already given the merchant Leif’s name, and even if he didn’t remember it, all he had to do was ask for the Jade courting a Stallion. It wasn’t as if there were many of those to be confused with. “Ready, Mrs. Braham?” Leif asked. “Let’s...let’s take it slow so we don’t go crashing to the ground if you suddenly need to lean on me for balance.” It turned out that the speed they could go wasn’t so much a choice as a result of the crowd, still thick and full of patches of wild drunkenness. Leif tried to route them around the worst of it, knowing he wasn’t in a good position to draw his wand if a situation got out-of-hand. He noticed that a number of the Lyellian performers were now missing, including the rope-walker, a troupe of jugglers, and a horse-riding act. That was good; the performers wouldn’t be in danger, and the crowds might thin out if there were fewer attractions. “Finally!” Leif muttered as the King’s Arms sign finally came into view. He and Morgaine edged around a gaggle of Lyellians talking in a language Leif didn’t know or recognize - though they sounded agitated - and stepped inside. On the way over, it had occurred to Leif that the Inn wasn’t exactly going be a quiet sanctuary from the hordes outside, even if the inner rooms were somewhat soundproof. He’d braced himself for the noise and chaos, but he still winced when he entered the common room. The tables weren’t all full, though that might have been because some of the chairs had been relocated behind the bar. There were napkins and plates on a few of them - if anyone besides Ilsa had been behind the counter, or if there had been any actual food on the plates, Leif would have assumed the innkeeper was letting some friends sit there. Strange. The patrons at the tables with chairs were about as rowdy and loud as any inn around a festival would be - Ilsa was calling out a discounted price on ale, which further explained the commotion. “Do you see anyone we know?” Leif asked Morgaine. He thought he glimpsed Clare Ryer, Elin's aunt, at one of the tables, but someone leaned into his line of sight and wouldn't move again. “I don’t know how helpful anyone here would be, but I suppose it can’t hurt. As long as we don’t start another fight. ...These people look like more cheerful drunks, at least?” When Leif spotted Ilsa finishing with a customer, he made his way up to the counter. Ilsa greeted him warmly - he was almost unsurprised this time - but while the alcohol might have dulled in term of personal boundaries, it had not touched Ilsa’s business sense. She was quick to name a price for a room, which Leif accepted equally-quickly, and though her gait was not the steadiest, Ilsa’s fingers didn’t falter when she picked up the key for the room. “I got a room upstairs,” Leif told Morgaine. “I figured it would be a little quieter. Do you want to come up, or wait down here for me?” He hoped she would choose to come along; Leif was a little afraid of losing her in the tumultuous crowd at the tables. Of course, as she’d said earlier, she was a grown woman and if she chose to stay behind, all Leif could do was ask her to be careful before heading up the stairs with Kirin. Leif got the Stallion settled and did as much as he could to make the room friendly for someone waking up with an unexpected hangover, and whatever stomachache Kirin might have given himself from the sweets. In that spirit, Leif left his no-longer-half cloak with Kirin, pretty sure he would recognize it and from that, figure out that Leif had been the one to bring him here. It seemed like a nicer way to leave that message than a note, when it had to be interpreted through a hangover. Though Leif would much rather have stayed in the room and had nothing but respect for Elin’s right hook, Leif didn’t really think Elin had found and knocked out the juice merchant. Especially not if he was a mage. ...Which, now that he thought about it... A thought forming in his head, Leif carefully closed the door behind him and rejoined Morgaine. “Is it just me, or does it seem weird that Elin was coherent enough to go around the festival asking people where the juice stand is...but she can’t find it herself? Or is that kind of...mixed skillset normal when you’re that drunk?” Even if it was, Leif was starting to get suspicious - absolutely nobody seemed to know where this stand was, even though it ought to have been causing a lot of commotion by now. Nobody’s luck was that good. Oh my Woo, Leif. Really? You needed a page and a half for all this?
Uhm, Leif and Morgaine go to the inn! Leif maybe spots Clare in the crowd, and talks to Ilsa to get a room for Kirin! He starts having a thought related to the juice merchant being a mage, and heads downstairs to see what’s going on.
I’ll leave it up to Shinko whether Morgaine stayed with Leif or went off and did her own thing in the Inn.
Cameos included with GLQ and Elycien’s permissions (no, fingers, not their persimmons). Elcie, let me know if I’ve done anything wrong regarding Ilsa ^^
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Post by Shinko on Oct 7, 2014 12:07:30 GMT -5
Though Morgaine had been relatively well behaved up until that point, it was getting obvious that the drunk woman was rather bored. The slow trip through the streets of Medieville and the distractions going on around her were very enticing, and more than once she almost wandered off. Fortunately, the setup Leif had arranged with her standing relatively close to him made it so that he noticed almost immediately when she got distracted, and he was able to call out to her and redirect her attention. But the Woo only knew how long it would be before his attention slipped and he lost track of her. When finally they arrived at the inn, she was getting a little cross from the combination of boredom and there generally being way too many people all around her. When Leif asked if there was anyone they knew around, Morgaine gave the grumpy and unhelpful reply, "I can't shee anythin' from way down here. There'sh too many people way bigger'n me everywhere, and they're all in the way." Fortunately she cheered a little bit somewhat when they reached the counter and Ilsa, greeting her friend cheerfully and engaging in some mutual teasing over their equally-inebriated states. When Leif asked about going upstairs, she flashed him a mischievous grin. "What, you need a chaperon? Fine then, I'll come with ya, wouldn't want folks getting the wrong idea about you carting your drunk boyfriend upshtairsh into the dark bowls of the inn late at night, would we? Would we?" She laughed uproariously at this, before patting Leif on the arm. "I'm jusht jokin', c'mon let'sh shet Lord Kirin up nishce and cozy." She ended up not following him up to the room, however. Only a short ways up the stairs she lost her already flimsy balance, only preventing a potentially major injury by the expedience of grasping the handrails- and even then she gave herself a nice, huge purple bruise on the front of each shin. Instead she sat down in the staircase, humming tunelessly and waiting for Leif to get back. “Is it just me," he remarked as he emerged, "or does it seem weird that Elin was coherent enough to go around the festival asking people where the juice stand is... but she can’t find it herself? Or is that kind of... mixed skillset normal when you’re that drunk?” The locksmith glanced up at him. "I dunno, I'm talkin' and walkin' alright. Well moshtly. Except for the part where I almosht fell down the shtairsh, but that wash kinda fun if you don't mind broken shinsh." She laughed, leaning backwards in the stairwell so that she was resting her head on the same step that Leif's feet occupied. "You shound like there'sh shomethin' on your mind, bossh. C'mon out and shay it, I'm not chashin' yer rabbit trailsh. Though come to think of it, rabbit stew would be nishce about now. I'm hungry, what about you? Though if all the feshtival food ish ash burnt as the one pastry guysh, I 'unno if I'm that hungry." Morgaine has many things to say, seems to be getting bored (which can only lead to fantastic things down the line) and falls down the stairs. Drunk person + stairs = A+ there Leiflet.
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Post by Tiger on Oct 7, 2014 18:25:53 GMT -5
Morgaine was clearly getting frustrated, an emotion Leif sympathised with. Of course, she cheered herself up by teasing him, so Leif was good for that, at least. Clearly he was not a good companion for someone intoxicated in any other way, as demonstrated by Morgaine’s fall on the stairs. Yes, frustration was an emotion he was very familiar with right now. "I dunno, I'm talkin' and walkin' alright. Well moshtly. Except for the part where I almosht fell down the shtairsh, but that wash kinda fun if you don't mind broken shinsh." Leif winced. “I’m sorry. I should've thought before I asked you to come up here with me. Maybe some of that juice is floating in the air and it’s muddling my brain, too. It'd explain why I'm acting even stupider than usual.” He half-smiled at the joke...and really hoped that wasn’t the case. “You have a point about the walking and talking. But you keep needing to be reminded to ask about the juice. Maybe it’s just that Elin’s angry so she can focus. I don’t know.” Leif frustratedly ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should’ve tried more alcohol when I was younger. Woo knows my brothers wanted... ” Leif shook his head, cutting himself off. “I would’ve been sorry for it, but at least now I’d have some perspective.” Morgaine tilted her head back to look up at him, telling him to get to the point and bringing up food. Leif sighed and came down a few steps to sit next to Morgaine. “Sorry. Just trying to get all my thoughts together. I’m wondering if there’s some sort of magic on the stall - something to keep it hidden, or make people forget that it’s there. Or maybe a misdirection spell so people can’t find it again. It just seems strange that nobody’s been able to find it even though it’s been causing so much trouble.” Leif drew his wand to cast a pain-relieving spell on Morgaine’s knees. “Food sounds good,” he admitted. “Woo knows how long we’ll have to wander around - we might as well not do it on empty stomachs. I bet we can find something that’s more food than ash out there...although, maybe it would be safer to buy something from here.” Leif glanced toward the bottom of the stairs as he put his wand away; the noise from the common room drifted up quite clearly. Hopefully if they ate here, Ilsa would let them eat outside or something. “What do you think?” he asked Morgaine. “Chance our luck with the festival or with the horde down there?” Talking talking talking BD
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Post by Shinko on Oct 7, 2014 19:05:58 GMT -5
"Nah, it'sh fine, it'sh all good," Morgaine said when Leif apologized for asking her to climb the stairs. "I bet I can get back down without fallin' though, watch, I'll really do it thish time!" The locksmith laughed at Leif's assertion that he should have gotten drunk when he was younger. "You'd prolly be even grouchier if you got drunk anywaysh. Not everyone ish a fun drunk- look at the guysh outshide! And Shieg, he'sh a horrible pershon to let get drunk, don't let him get drunk. We got lucky at the wedding, ushually he get'sh drunk and he gets all mel.... melan... sad! He gets sad!" She reclined further as Leif sat down beside her, relaxing into her place on the stairs. "Magic to hide the shtall? Hmmm... Could be, could be. But you're an archmage, can't you do some whatchamagjigger and find him anyway?" She mimed the motion of flicking a wand with one hand, then prodded him playfully. "It really bothersh you, don't it? When people do shtupid shtuff with magic. I bet you don't wanna be anywhere near that feshtival, but you're goin' back anyway." "As for the grub... I 'unno, if Lydia'sh ash drunk as Ilsha, I'd shay not. Might be luckier outshide. And we can keep lookin' for what'sh hish face'sh shtand inna meantime." A thought seemed to occur to her, and she rolled over on her side to look up at Leif's face better. "Shay, you didn't believe me before, right? How come you changed yer mind? And why'dja stay with me before then? I wash havin' fun, but I bet, I bet you weren't. This isn't your kinda fun, your kinda fun ish birdsh and spellsh and Kirin cuddles." She giggled, "Too badja didn't find Kirin before he passhed out, you'da enjoyed yourshelf then." Morgaine makes some drunken small talk.
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Post by Tiger on Oct 7, 2014 21:01:57 GMT -5
“If you say so,” Leif said in reply to Morgaine’s bravado, “but I’ll stick close just in case. Falling down stairs is worse than falling up them.” Morgaine pointed out that Leif probably would’ve been a grumpy drunk, and he grunted in agreement. “That’s what I always assumed. I’ve never understood why anyone who knows me would want me to get drunk - I guess they’re hoping for a miracle.” He tilted his head as Morgaine talked about Sieg. “Really? I remember him looking to be having a good time at the wedding. I suppose Sir Orrin’s a good influence on him.” Leif also supposed the melancholy was why Sieg hadn’t just turned to drink to keep up his happy facade - that and his knightly duties - but he didn’t think that was appropriate to bring up. It also occurred to him that Sieg clearly hadn’t inherited his inebriated temperament from Morgaine, but he knew it was inappropriate to bring up Morgaine’s deceased husband. He let Morgaine chance the subject; she remarked on Leif’s extreme distaste for ill-used magic. Leif put his fingers together and rested them against his chin, looking down the stairs almost broodingly. “It does bother me. A lot. Magic is a blessing from Lord Woo, it should be used for helping people, not hurting them. And magic’s harder for people to fight off than other kinds of abused power. You don’t need a particular bloodline to use a sword or build a barricade.” Shifting one hand to finger the pendant of his necklace, Leif said in a lighter voice. “As for casting spells; I can get rid of the illusion when we find it, that shouldn’t be a problem. It’s tracking it down in the first place that’s still going to be tricky. If we had someone who’d just come from the stall, that would be easy enough - I just don’t think our luck’s going to let us find someone that fresh from buying the juice. If we get close enough, it might trigger my protection spell, but I wouldn’t count on it.” Leif tapped the pendant absently. “I don’t suppose you felt anything odd when you were buying the juice, Mrs. Braham? If he’s a good mage, you shouldn’t have, but maybe after all the other casting, he got a bit sloppy?” Despite the aggravating circumstances around them, Leif had to smile at Morgaine’s comment about Kirin. “I’m sure I would’ve,” he agreed. “Probably would have been comfier for him than the bag of sugar, too… Oh- uh - that’s right, I didn’t show you…” Leif pulled the scrunched-up label out of his pocket. “You were pretty insistent you hadn’t had anything other than the juice and I couldn’t think why you’d lie about it, but then I found this on the back of the label and that’s when I figured out what was going on. There’re runes here.” He showed the back of the label to Morgaine, tracing the runes hidden in the black and white pattern. Carefully folding the label and replacing it in his pocket, Leif added, “And of course I stayed with you. I may not be the best help, but I’m better than nothing, I think. Besides, Sieg’s not here - some Braham needs to be my crime-fighting partner.” He stood up, holding out a hand to help Morgaine to her feet. “I like your plan of getting something out there. We don’t have to deal with the mess downstairs, either. We have to keep an eye out for Elin, too, remember.” Once he’d gotten Morgaine off the stairs, he asked, “Anything in particular you have a craving for, or should we just walk around until we find something that looks good?” In a shocking twist - there is more talking! =OOO
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Post by Shinko on Oct 8, 2014 7:14:36 GMT -5
Morgaine smiled at Leif's comment about Sieg, though it was a distant smile. "He'sh been a lot happier shince he came back from Bern. I jusht wish I'd notishced how unhappy he wash shooner. Not a very... not a very good mother, wash I?"
She seemed to trail off at the thought, but came back into the present when Leif started talking again. Whe he asked her if she'd felt anything odd when she was near the stand, the old woman shook her head. "No, can't shay I did. If anything it wash jusht really boring. The juishce guy wash boring too- didn't notishce mucha anything about 'em. All I notishced wash the juishce looked tashty really. It wash tashty too, not, not the besht I've ever had but it wash good. Not sho good I'd still have drunken it if I'd known it'd get me sho washted though. But, but it wash good. I guessh it would have to be, or people wouldn't drink it and get drunk, huh?"
She waved an arm in the air vaguely, "I'da thought magic juishce would be like, the besht juishce, but I guessh maybe he ushed up all hish good magic jusht hidin' the booshze. I dunno how I'm shuppposhed to have known that would happen though. I mean it wash jusht a guy with his juishce, and he said it wash jusht juishce! I dunno, Leif... Ahaha, I keep forgetting the title, don't I? Mashter Leif? Lord Leif?" she giggled again, "That'sh a funny shound. Lord Leif, Lord Leif, Lord Leif..."
Leif then showed her the juice label and she tried to focus on it, but her drink addled eyes couldn't make out anything but badly blurred squiggles. She didn't have a chance to comment on that, though, because Leif's next remark drove it out of her mind.
“And of course I stayed with you. I may not be the best help, but I’m better than nothing, I think. Besides, Sieg’s not here - some Braham needs to be my crime-fighting partner.”
She laughed, "Well if Shieg wash here he'd prolly be better at thish than me! He'da gotten a mug of ale or shomething, jusht the one, and never got drunk in the firsht plashce. He'sh not really much for juishce. Shaysh it'sh too shweet and shyrupy. But I'll do my besht, even if my besht ish fallin' down the shtairs!"
Morgaine held up her arm again, curling her hand as if she were holding a sword. "Until the enemy ish vanquished, let ush not lay our burden down!"
She let Leif pull her up, stumbling a bit, but he caught her before she lost her balance entirely. She grinned up at him, "Well I guessh rabbit shtew isn't likely to show up at a feshtival shtand, but maybe we could find shome of the meat Clare wash shupposed to be givin' to the vendorsh."
The locksmith tried to climb down the stairs on her own, but after almost falling forwards she was forced to let Leif help her after all. When they got to the bottom and exited the inn, she glanced up at him. "Sho you wanna take point again, bossh? Or ish it my turn?"
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Post by Tiger on Oct 8, 2014 20:26:54 GMT -5
Morgaine explained that the juice-seller had seemed perfectly ordinary. Boring, even. His stall, too. Even the juice wasn’t anything remarkable. Leif would also have expected the juice to taste great, maybe even addictively so, in order to sell more of it...then again, there were limits to how much magic one person could do at a time. Before he could express his agreement, Morgaine went on a tangent about his title...and found the alliteration that kept Leif using a different title. “Yes, it does sound funny - that’s why I prefer ‘master’.” He shrugged slightly. “You don’t have to use a title if you don’t want to.” They made it down the stairs and out of the inn without further calamity. Morgaine asked who should take point; Leif, remembering the locksmith’s distraction on the way here, said, “I can lead the way. Let me know if anything strikes you as familiar. Or,” he considered, recalling his thoughts about a spell cast on the stand, added, “if you notice anything...not being noticed. Uhm. There has to be a better way to explain that...and maybe that can’t be it, anyways, how would people find the stand in the first place if it’s - glamoured, or…” Leif frowned. He hadn’t really meant to imply it was a true glamour - spells of illusion and misdirection were one thing, but glamours were much trickier to pull off. Potions were better than the usual assortment of incantations when it came to affecting emotions...except for glamours. A glamour could be complex enough to entice someone thirsty - and then drive away those searching for something specific. “If you feel anything...that doesn’t make sense, let me know. Anything that pulls or pushes, especially,” Leif said after a moment. “Let’s try and find some food in the meantime. Maybe we’ll stumble upon it by accident.” Leif tried to keep them on paths with fewer people so that they didn’t have to push through crowds again. The darkness was growing strong enough that it was difficult to see well; Leif had hoped everyone might start moving indoors, but apparently the Lyellian performers had several night acts that took advantage of the blackness; a number of torch tricks, shows with magic lights and colored lantern shades, and even a play where the actors wore glowing paints, dotted the edges of the path. Many of the stands were still open as well, lanterns hung by their signs or their cookfires glowing brightly; Leif hoped the juice stall was among them. A stand selling pot pies was one of those lit mostly by fire, though a small lantern sat beside the merchant’s wares as well. Leif caught the scent of them as well, and he realized he was hungrier than he’d thought. The pies definitely weren’t being torched with alcohol flames. He pointed the stand out to Morgaine. “I’m not sure if Ms. Ryer’s meat was delivered there, but I’m willing to try it if you - “ He was cut off figuratively and just about literally by a sudden parting of the crowd and a babble of noise. Leif was pulled to one side and Morgaine the other, as a group of Lyellians came by in a mass row, about three people across. Nearly all of them were carrying paper lanterns in all colors of the rainbow; those who weren’t pushed carts of other lanterns, handing them out to members of the crowd. A partner, either a mage or someone with a tinder, would then light the lantern and motion for the Medievillian to join in the procession. It looked like they were heading to Lake Plume. Someone pushed a green lantern into Leif’s hands, lighting it before he had a chance to protest and push it back. Looking back up at the Lyellians in the flare of bright light and the momentary closeness, he thought their smiles looked a little fixed. Leif wondered how many of their number had been drugged by the juice. ...It was probably not painting a very good picture of Medieville, or Kyth, for them. When the small parade had passed, taking a good-sized cluster of mostly sober-ish Medivillians like a piece of stickypaper waved through a cloud of flies, Leif looked around for Morgaine. He really hoped the crowd hadn’t taken her with it. Time to go looking for food and glamoured juice stands! But what’s this? A parade of lantern-wielding Lyellians are off to make a Tangled reference over Lake Plume, and they separate our fearless duo!
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