middaeg | November Catch-all [open]

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fz: iskandar

November Catch-all [open]

Who: Iskandar and ... everyone else
When: All Noveuer
Where: Aefenglom and Dorchacht
What: Quests and all other November madness.
Warnings: Some inevitable violence and crude language

I. Clean Up & Clear Out (Aefenglom)

Iskandar could swear the roof is about to collapse such horrible was the noise that shakes the very walls of the building. He dashes outside already suspecting what he's about to see. Μητροκοίτης! He sure it's one of those idiots again! They almost gave the old lady he was visiting a heart attack.

"Oi, cowsons! Stop that immediately!"

There are not one but two lads unloading a broken behemoth of a furniture piece down from a cart. They pay no more attention to his shouts then they do to the equally expressive protests of the inhabitants of the street the litter. They don't even look his way.

There's little that Iskandar hates as much as being ignored. He's definitely not above enlisting help.

"Hey, help me kick those idiots out! They think they can just come and dump their garbage here."

II. Site of the Last Stand (Dorchacht) - Off-duty OTA - fighting bears, drinking booze.

They are all wiser from the experience of the first cleansing. The one that was a pure experiment, a shot in the dark, that now refined seems to become an established practice. Another weapon in the war with the Plague. Here though it is not only Cwyld they are fighting. Even after the whole year Iskandar still wouldn't say he understands magic, nor that he feels comfortable using it. There are things even he can notice. It worst close to the trees. As if the magic they absorbed from that cursed hag corrupted their very essence into something so twisted and evil it's almost alien to their surroundings.
And it draws the infected like flies to honey. Be it beetles or bears, Iskandar is ... no, content is the wrong word to use here, so not content but satisfied having something tangible to hit when he's taking a break from the cleansing effort.

Sometimes when he truly can't argue any longer that he needs no rest, he'll sit with whatever food is currently available and a drink. Whenever his gaze glances over the unseeing eyes of the trees, he flinches and mutters a curse.

"This is sick--"

III. Veggie Tales (OTA)
There's a stall in the marketplace in a particularly sunny spot. It's owner, a witty puca Hazel sells seasonal flower arrangements for all occasions. Sometimes she comes into possession of rare alchemical ingredients, herbs and plants she collects along with the flowers, so it's not unusual for Iskandar to visit her even if he doesn't have much interest in flowers.

This time he's been greeted by even rarer sight. All the pots and baskets stand on the street and the whole stall is occupied by a horde of green broccoli squirrels basking in the sun. It's the third day they occupy her stand, bite and scare the customers, the florist says. But she can't really force herself to kick them out. They are just too cute. And the children love them. Can Iskandar please get rid of them?

So he tried and failed repeatedly. He doesn't want to sadden the florist by hurting the critters but he's running out of ideas how to relocate them without the use of force. Please help him.

Obligatory wild card prompt.
[I will be adding a few more prompts later but as always, I'm open for plotting on plurk

bitweaver. PM's are also fine :)]

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It saddens their heart to see these trees like this and they know there probably isn't anything they can do to revert the process. So they are silent when they cradle their flask between their hands and after Iskandar has spoken they open their mouth.

"We need to burn those trees. It is the kindest thing we can do for them."

Finally Enkidu looks at him fully, the look on their face so very neutral that it is almost creepy.

"Because whatever is in the air...it isn't good." So they stand. "Let us finish drinking and eating later."

Iskandar takes a swig from his bottle. It's contents are strong enough to burn through the metallic taste breathing this foul air leaves him with. But not for long.

"We can't," he replies. Cruel as it sounds it's true. "Not before we cleanse the area. The corruption goes too far into the roots... and the soil around them. Whatever tries to grow here later would become affected as well if we don't."

He's sure Enkidu knows this. They have a better grasp on magic than he does. But he also suspects why they said what they did. If there's even a flicker of life inside those twisted husks, it is suffering.

"Then we cut them down first and take care of the roots afterwards"

There is a tense undertone in their voice and it is clear they don't like this. Enkidu's magic is average at the least and every time they use it, it feels as if it does not belong to them. They are a divine being, not a wizard of some sort.

"We cannot sit here and drink, Iskandar."

Because, indeed, they don't want these trees to suffer any further. It makes them feel uneasy.

"We can't. It won't help, it would just make things worse."

Iskandar shrugs, though it looks more like a shiver. As if he was trying to shake something vile off. He has already asked that question.

"We cannot," he agrees but doesn't move from his place. "And yet this is what we need to do."

He sighs, takes another swig from his bottle before continuing.

"I am no mage child of gods. I won't tell you that I know how this work. What I can tell you is that last time I tried this leyline purging without breaks, it almost killed me. I had been useless for three days and barely remember the following week. This magic here doesn't work like anything I know. I wouldn't be surprised if it did not work like anything you know." He's the last of all people to ever advice moderation...and now he's here doing exactly this.

"So sit down, eat, drink and rest. Replenish your strength. And when you do, we can take care of those trees. One at a time. Just like the others are doing."

Iskandar hates the drudgery, the slowness of the whole process, hates the foul air around but none of this is deterrent enough. He wants all of the traces of the thrice cursed hag erase from existence and he can be quite relentless in pursuit of what he wants.

Her shoulders are half-raised in indignation by the time Iskandar steps outside, so it's good that his shout gives her a moment to exhale and settle herself. Her plan to quietly arrange for help for the neighbourhood is shed just as silently. After all, avoiding confrontation would be preferred... but, given the crowd, unlikely.

"Better no one gets hurt," she cautions, even so. "We should speak to them."

Iskandar is seething, very prepared to shake the two idiots no matters their pedigree ... but she is right. They already have too much of an audience.

"They're not really listening," he replies.

Though in all honesty, he wasn't trying to reason with them, just kick those morons out.

"We should get their attention, then."

How, though? It's a problem. She bites her lip - asked to rank the young masters and mistresses of her generation by the order one would lend them an ear, she would surely be missed entirely. But then, they aren't in the cultivation world, and she's laced up in one of her finer dresses and standing beside an imposing fellow mage.

Her shielding spell appears in miniature above their heads, not for protection, but for the loud, clear chime of a bell that accompanies it. In Yunmeng, the sect bell would clear the mind and calm the spirit. Here, it simply serves as a loud noise to draw the ear and eye of the young aristocrats.

It's a lot easier to ignore a man yelling insults in their general direction. They must treat them no more seriously than the buzzing of insects. Of course, the lowlife's that inhabit the slums would protest but their protests mean nothing.

A sound of bell though, that's not something any of them expected, so they both stop what they were doing and look around confused, searching for the source of the sound. There are no bell towers in the area, and no bells to produce such a bright, clear sound. It almost does not belong in this wretched place.

Iskandar grins.

"I believe it worked," he comments quite content of their confusion.

She breathes a soft, relieved sigh, one hand still raised to channel the spell. Having so many eyes on them without the adrenaline of a loved one in danger is hard to endure, but she finds it easier with him there.

He blocks a good deal of the eyes, for one thing; his grin is reliable, for another, reminiscent of the better men she's known. She smiles up at him briefly, before her expression slips back to something bland and curious.

"Please tell me," she asks, voice just loud enough to carry, "Is it usual practice to give out broken goods?"

It's obvious they were not expecting a polite question. For a moment, both young men look as if they were just called out by a school teacher and thought they will be dragged by their ears in front of the class. So it must be nothing more than pure reflex when one of them replies.

"No, it's not that --"

Iskandar usually prefers not to but he can loom over people with an unspoken promise of extreme violence hanging in the air. He doesn't even need to say anything, it's enough that he stands there to make it completely clear that to inconvenience this nice lady is a very unwise choice.

Her head tilts. Looking mildly concerned and nonthreatening as someone radiates violence beside her is... well, she's perhaps a little too used to it, but the contrast serves its purpose here as it has previously.

"It isn't? I see." They don't have long, she thinks; the crowd are restless. "Then it would be reasonable to pay for their disposing of these for you, since they aren't gifts."

That's enough to wake the other of the young men from their collective bewilderment.

"Don't get into discussions, idiot! They're nobodies. Just throw it out and let's move on." To his credit, his voice barely over a whisper.

Iskandar clears his throat.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, are perhaps have trouble hearing?" he booms making both of the almost jump in their place. He looks at Yangli.

"Would you be so kind and repeat? I think they didn't hear you clearly enough the first time."

Her hands are trembling, but knowing herself, they're both already tucked into her sleeves and clasped demurely against her stomach. Their expressions, at least, are familiar enough in essence that she can steel herself, bring up the disdain that flickers in her to the surface.

"You should reimburse the people here for the inconvenience you are causing them. It reflects very badly on your families otherwise, being so ungracious."

Is that enough of a threat? She hasn't had enough interaction with these particular aristocratic groups to judge it.

There exist a tone of voice, a very special one, that a person raised in a certain environment recognises instantly on a subconscious level. The overt message may differ but its essence runs through cultures, languages and as it turns out even different worlds. What is says can be summed as I am going to tell your mother and she will be ashamed by your actions but it's so much than that. Few threats cut as deep. Iskandar can feel the chill even if that tone was not directed at him.

The two noble kids on the cart are barely out of their teenage years. Iskandar wouldn't give them more than early 20s. Neither of them looks especially strong or even brave. They probably thought it was a good idea because everyone else is doing it and only now realised they actually got themselves in more trouble than it's worth. The whole scene is getting more and more attention, the crowd grows, with people stopping by, curious what's going on.

They finally decide to cut their losses and don't risk that this scary lady could really have a word with their mothers. The younger one looks at his friend, then just fishes a few cunes from his pocket and drops them on the broken cabinet they threw from their cart on the street.

"Yes, madam," he mumbles.
"We're sorry, madam" adds the other one.

The astonished crowd, including Iskandar, watches in amazement as the youngsters turn their cart around and speed in the direction of the Bright Wall as if a whole army of bloodthirsty cwyltid was after them.

When they're finally out of the earshot and the crowd starts to disperse Iskandar whistles.

Hiding her own astonishment was a greater effort; Yanli could only wait until they were away - and Iskander was already whistling - to let her shoulders slump and a soft sigh escape. She doesn't make a move for the cunes, but she notes whoever reaches for them.

"I suppose young men have the same fears across the worlds," she excuses, weakly, and then gathers herself for a bow. "Thank you for standing up to them. Your words gave me the strength to speak."

Well, that ended way better than his previous encounter.

Iskandar grins widely then politely bows back. Hey, he finally learned how! It took him a few tries but it's an effort he's not regretting. He's forever interested in the customs of people from faraway lands and none are as far away as all the multitude of worlds different Mirrorbounds come from.

"It was a pleasure but in truth, you did all the work. I might have attempted to look sufficiently menacing but I'd wager they were more scared of you," he replies with a wink. "I'd hazard a guess too that you've already had some experience with bratty teenagers back home."

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November Catch-all [open]

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lfdgkjfd ran your npcs

tehehe~~~