[ JUST SAYING... it's fine working with a Witcher when they're on the same side, but she's understandably a bit leery of handing out dossiers like candy after seeing what he's capable of. Don't get her wrong. Alix likes Eskel well enough - it's the rest of his order getting hands on the same information that she's more concerned about. ]
Can't promise the answers will be good or that I can even answer in the first place, but you can try if you want. We have time.
[The expression on his face suggests that he doesn't particularly make a distinction between the two. As one might not if one had been in the care and training of the order since the age of four or five, if the life of a witcher is all one has ever known.]
If I think of somethin', I'll ask. But I imagine there's only so much you can tell me anyway? That seems to be part of the enchantment, if I remember from before.
[He heaves himself to his feet and begins the unpleasant business of pulling apart the basilisk corpse for useful elements. Some are for his own purposes, like the venom glands, claws and teeth (used in the potions which enhance his already superhuman abilities), while other parts he intends to sell to mages the next time he gets to a decent city. He thrusts his bloody fingers into his mouth and whistles, an enormous black charger barreling out of a nearby stand of alder trees to have its saddlebags burdened with his macabre takings.]
Do you reckon there's anybody to pay me for the head off this thing? Is that... unethical? I brought it here, after all. And it still had time to kill two people before I brought it down again.
[ Alix wisely elects to relocate elsewhere before her torn wardrobe gets into a bloodier condition than it already is. ]
The terms and involved parties are off limits no matter how it's phrased. Get too close and the geas locks you up - like the words are still there, but you can't force it out.
[ Three guesses how she knows that. While he deals with dismantling his kill and getting the interesting bits ready for transport, Alix crosses over to one of the thug corpses, seemingly frozen in the final act of propping himself up, held upright by the spear lodged though his side and back out again with the blade buried in the sod. Retrieving it requires planting a foot on the corpse (with apologies to the recently departed) and some creative heaving for the weapon to come free, but come free it does.
Where did she put that cleaning rag? ]
Mourn the sheep if you want something to feel bad about. This lot gambled, lost, and paid the price, so what's unethical about it? [ Alix arguably isn't the best person to ask about ethical graverobbing with her questionably grey morality tbh... ] They could've found their end in a mercenary camp or a highway raid gone wrong just as easily anyway, so I fail to see the difference.
[ Not exactly an ideal outcome that's she's all that pleased about, but it's out of their hands and in the past now. Dwelling on it changes nothing. ]
Sure, but the basilisk could have hurt someone else. Just lucky it went for the sheep and not the village.
[He shakes his head.]
Hopefully everybody just thinks the damn thing escaped and not that I released it on purpose to cause problems and collect a reward. My reputation is hard enough to maintain as it is.
[Still, he takes the head of the basilisk and hangs it from a hook on his saddle that seems specific to the purpose. Someone will pay him something for it, hopefully.]
Doubt anyone will think that unless you were fool enough to show it off like a prize pony, Eskel. Give the worrying a rest.
[ Already mounted with her spear clean and holstered, Alix interrupts her admiring of his horse just long enough to shoot an amused glance his way. For such an intimidating individual, it's interesting to see endearing traits peek through the stoic professionalism from time to time. Less like a caricature built on rumor and suspicion and more like the person he is underneath. ]
Well then. If you're done being a fusspot, I still want that drink. You coming?
[He swings himself up on the back of the black charger, he refrains from mentioning that the cart with the shrieking basilisk driven by a scar-faced mutant wasn't exactly easy to miss. He steers the horse to follow her, leaving behind the remains of the basilisk for the local peasants to regard as a morbid curiosity.]
[ She spurs her horse into a brisk trot without further prompting, leading them at an angle across the woods and back to the main thoroughfare on a winding, purling path for some distance before they enter the village proper. It's not quite a squat hamlet that barely ekes out a living, but not quite a mercantile hub either, plainly hosting passing trade on a regular basis. With the petty lord dead and his authority gone with him there's still a handful of people with the political heft to negotiate for Eskel's grisly cargo. ]
Headsman's down by the tailor on the corner if you want to see what he's willing to pay you. [ Both Witcher and basilisk head have drawn the attention of the townsfolk by now. They mill about uncertainly and whisper amongst themselves, scurrying past like mice. ] I'll see what tables are open at the Hart's Head by the south gate.
[ Alix has elected to get a head start in his absence - already a drink deep and working on a second, alternating between watching the other patrons go about their business with an unreadable expression on her face and taking deep draughts of her lager. It's not half bad for some local swill! A bit hoppy, but as long as it's not more boot polish than beverage she won't complain.
Ah. There he is.
Eskel's greeted with a mock salute with her mostly empty cup and a chair she kicks out from the other side of the table with her boot. ]
Your table, milord. I trust it suits your fancy.
[ If not, too bad goes unsaid. The other three corners were already occupied by bawdy locals anyway and she sure as hell isn't dealing with that. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ]
Apparently so. Haven't heard anything back yet, but gods know that kind of peace never lasts long.
[ She downs the last of her current drink and flags down the barmaid with two fingers, doubling up on the next round. Whether they're to share or entirely for her remains to be seen. In the meantime, her chair creaks noisily in protest as she rocks back on the two legs with an arm resting along the backing rail, scratching idly at her jaw with a fingertip. Remembering to breathe is a bit of a nuisance in social gatherings like this - it keeps comes out stilted, like she can't quite get the natural rhythm right.
In, one-two, out, three-four... ]
Price for bath and boarding is reasonable here if you're still wanting to freshen up, by the by. I'll add extra to your pay to compensate.
[ Consider it a "sorry you nearly got ganked" apology. ]
[He won't say no to a bath, certainly. And he's pretty sure he could fall asleep standing up if left alone for long enough. Babysitting a basilisk for a couple of days had left him tired.
The fact that this opportunity won't lighten his purse any only sweetens the prospect.]
Sure folk would prefer I wasn't hanging around smelling like blood and sheep shit.
[ Hey, she wasn't gonna bring it up if he didn't. The next round arrives and Alix drops payment in the barmaid's palm, waiting for her to cross over to the boisterous men several tables over before sliding something across to table to Eskel. It's the pin from before. Still in surprisingly good shape too, for all the jostling it's taken. ]
Didn't get a chance to ask before you took off to get knocked around, but does this look familiar? Any ideas where it was made?
[He picks it up carefully, and his medallion hums as he rolls it into his palm.]
Never seen anything like it. But that's not unusual, artifacts aren't really my forté.
[Still, his curiosity has him studying it carefully up close, thinking of how he had seen her use it.]
It...kinda reminds me of artifacts mages use to imprison certain entities or even the spirit of a person. A sorcerer would be a better person to ask, but good luck finding one outside of a major city that's feeling chatty.
That so? Damn pity, I figured you and your kin would be the best people to ask.
[ Her chair thumps back down on all four legs so she can lean in a bit, voice pitched low enough to be less easily picked up on by any of the curious yokels. While it's doubtful any average peasant would have the slightest clue what they're talking about, but it's always better to be miserly with trade secrets, especially if subject to gossip. A muscle in her jaw tightens as she stares at the pin perched in his hand like it personally offended her honor. ]
I won't bore you with the details, but that thing's the sole reason why I didn't catch the guy the first time around if you can believe it. [ Alix snorts. ] Took a year to figure out why.
The old man might have a better idea but my expertise is a little more...fleshy.
[Mapping out internal systems, studying behavioral patterns of the beasts he hunts, necropsies on unusual specimens. Could he crack a riddle like this? Sure, but it might take him more time than an expert in enchanted jewelry.]
How so? You mentioned something vague like he'd cheated death or something?
[ His word choice cracks a smile out of Alix, one she immediately hides behind the brim of her tankard. ]
Something tells me he wouldn't be receptive to that idea.
[ Considering how the order master reacted to getting something as benign as mail, an approach that bold is guaranteed to backfire in a spectacular fashion. Something along the lines of 'apoplectic' sounds appropriate. Damn her if she isn't tempted anyway. ]
Substituted someone else, snared them in a bauble, and wore them like a suit until the ledgers were balanced... or whatever they do. [ Honestly, it would be an impressive undertaking if it wasn't also causing mass inconvenience with the underworld's accounting department. Serious stuff. ] Whoever made his shroud knew what they were doing.
Edited (man I'm all typos tonight my b) 2023-06-16 05:24 (UTC)
[Eskel winces. It reminds him of a combination of necromancy and a process called artifact compaction: imprisoning a person in a small figurine. Both currently extremely illegal on the mainland Continent.]
Bad news. Shit like that? Banned by the mage's governing bodies. Now you're looking at black market stuff and if you think a mage of the Brotherhood is hard to get ahold of? Those who got kicked out for things like this? Even harder to find. You're probably looking for a necromancer and they don't deal out on the open.
{{It's all good, I keep dropping my phone and typo-ing myself}}
[ Caught mid-drink, she holds up a finger as if to say wait 'til you hear this shit. There's absolutely no way an infraction like giving a couple souls the switcheroo can get away without oodles and oodles of red tape, fairy logic included. ]
Oh, but fixing a mistake that serious has stipulations attached! [ Not surprising since it's mucking around with the natural order of How Things Work™. ] The bearer needs to die under specific conditions - a trade of circumstance, in the stead of the person they replaced. Since I didn't have the expertise to do your job...
[ She trails off, shrugs, and lets the insinuation percolate on its own. The trespassing, the letter, the basilisk, this entire fuss from square one, because of one person. Needless to say, any more of these shrouds being made means a lot more work for her, and almost certainly more contracts heading to the Witchers in general. Meaning if he thought this catch-and-release was bad, it might actually get worse. ]
That so? Sounds like the makings of an interesting tale, if you're so inclined.
[ Frankly the less she has to think about future frustrations the better. It's moments like this Alix misses the sensation of being incredibly, embarrassingly, irredeemably drunk. All the better to ignore pressing business for much later - and the inevitable headache that comes with it. Alas, 'tis but a dream. In the meantime the slumbering gem gets spirited away into her breast pocket before the gleam of it draws unwanted attention. ]
In any case... it's a problem better left for the morrow.
[He agrees, speaking into the echoing shell of his mug before he drains it and waves for another.]
A tale? No. But everyone knows that Destiny will not be denied. It always finds you in the end, for better or worse. Darlin', will you bring me a whisky with that beer?
[He tacks on something stronger from the barmaid who won't look him in the face, though a shiny coin tip seems to ease her discomfort a little bit.]
[ The sigh as she glances down at herself and the gaping rents in her noble's finery - hastily bound with strips of linen to hide the wounds underneath - carries a note of weary agreement with it. Yes, a bath and some late night mending with needle and thread is certainly in order. ]
Wisest words I've heard all week.
[ Alix sips from the pale beer more daintily now that the initial thirst has worn off (or... whatever approximation of it she has), meeting his request for the harder spirit with a raised eyebrow as the barmaid hurries away. It makes perfect sense the regular swill wouldn't do much for a witcher, but she finds herself surprised anyway. ]
More worse than better if the fables are anything to go by. Cruel fates aside... what's next for you? Straight back to the den, clearing out the countryside, something else?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ JUST SAYING... it's fine working with a Witcher when they're on the same side, but she's understandably a bit leery of handing out dossiers like candy after seeing what he's capable of.
Don't get her wrong. Alix likes Eskel well enough - it's the rest of his order getting hands on the same information that she's more concerned about. ]
Can't promise the answers will be good or that I can even answer in the first place, but you can try if you want. We have time.
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If I think of somethin', I'll ask. But I imagine there's only so much you can tell me anyway? That seems to be part of the enchantment, if I remember from before.
[He heaves himself to his feet and begins the unpleasant business of pulling apart the basilisk corpse for useful elements. Some are for his own purposes, like the venom glands, claws and teeth (used in the potions which enhance his already superhuman abilities), while other parts he intends to sell to mages the next time he gets to a decent city. He thrusts his bloody fingers into his mouth and whistles, an enormous black charger barreling out of a nearby stand of alder trees to have its saddlebags burdened with his macabre takings.]
Do you reckon there's anybody to pay me for the head off this thing? Is that... unethical? I brought it here, after all. And it still had time to kill two people before I brought it down again.
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[ Alix wisely elects to relocate elsewhere before her torn wardrobe gets into a bloodier condition than it already is. ]
The terms and involved parties are off limits no matter how it's phrased. Get too close and the geas locks you up - like the words are still there, but you can't force it out.
[ Three guesses how she knows that.
While he deals with dismantling his kill and getting the interesting bits ready for transport, Alix crosses over to one of the thug corpses, seemingly frozen in the final act of propping himself up, held upright by the spear lodged though his side and back out again with the blade buried in the sod. Retrieving it requires planting a foot on the corpse (with apologies to the recently departed) and some creative heaving for the weapon to come free, but come free it does.
Where did she put that cleaning rag? ]
Mourn the sheep if you want something to feel bad about. This lot gambled, lost, and paid the price, so what's unethical about it? [ Alix arguably isn't the best person to ask about ethical graverobbing with her questionably grey morality tbh... ] They could've found their end in a mercenary camp or a highway raid gone wrong just as easily anyway, so I fail to see the difference.
[ Not exactly an ideal outcome that's she's all that pleased about, but it's out of their hands and in the past now. Dwelling on it changes nothing. ]
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[He shakes his head.]
Hopefully everybody just thinks the damn thing escaped and not that I released it on purpose to cause problems and collect a reward. My reputation is hard enough to maintain as it is.
[Still, he takes the head of the basilisk and hangs it from a hook on his saddle that seems specific to the purpose. Someone will pay him something for it, hopefully.]
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[ Already mounted with her spear clean and holstered, Alix interrupts her admiring of his horse just long enough to shoot an amused glance his way. For such an intimidating individual, it's interesting to see endearing traits peek through the stoic professionalism from time to time. Less like a caricature built on rumor and suspicion and more like the person he is underneath. ]
Well then. If you're done being a fusspot, I still want that drink. You coming?
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Lead the way?
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[ She spurs her horse into a brisk trot without further prompting, leading them at an angle across the woods and back to the main thoroughfare on a winding, purling path for some distance before they enter the village proper. It's not quite a squat hamlet that barely ekes out a living, but not quite a mercantile hub either, plainly hosting passing trade on a regular basis.
With the petty lord dead and his authority gone with him there's still a handful of people with the political heft to negotiate for Eskel's grisly cargo. ]
Headsman's down by the tailor on the corner if you want to see what he's willing to pay you. [ Both Witcher and basilisk head have drawn the attention of the townsfolk by now. They mill about uncertainly and whisper amongst themselves, scurrying past like mice. ] I'll see what tables are open at the Hart's Head by the south gate.
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{{Townsfolk give him a wide berth but it's hard to say if that's down to his stature and appearance or the severed bloody basilisk head he's carrying
When he returns, it's minus the head and with a significantly fatter coin purse.}}
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Ah. There he is.
Eskel's greeted with a mock salute with her mostly empty cup and a chair she kicks out from the other side of the table with her boot. ]
Your table, milord. I trust it suits your fancy.
[ If not, too bad goes unsaid. The other three corners were already occupied by bawdy locals anyway and she sure as hell isn't dealing with that. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ]
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Much obliged. Always feel better when nothing can get behind me. You look like you're making good time on that beer. Guess I better catch up.
[With that, he quaffs half his beer, wiping foam from his scarred lips.]
Job's done then? Your boss get what they wanted?
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[ She downs the last of her current drink and flags down the barmaid with two fingers, doubling up on the next round. Whether they're to share or entirely for her remains to be seen.
In the meantime, her chair creaks noisily in protest as she rocks back on the two legs with an arm resting along the backing rail, scratching idly at her jaw with a fingertip. Remembering to breathe is a bit of a nuisance in social gatherings like this - it keeps comes out stilted, like she can't quite get the natural rhythm right.
In, one-two, out, three-four... ]
Price for bath and boarding is reasonable here if you're still wanting to freshen up, by the by. I'll add extra to your pay to compensate.
[ Consider it a "sorry you nearly got ganked" apology. ]
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[He won't say no to a bath, certainly. And he's pretty sure he could fall asleep standing up if left alone for long enough. Babysitting a basilisk for a couple of days had left him tired.
The fact that this opportunity won't lighten his purse any only sweetens the prospect.]
Sure folk would prefer I wasn't hanging around smelling like blood and sheep shit.
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[ Hey, she wasn't gonna bring it up if he didn't.
The next round arrives and Alix drops payment in the barmaid's palm, waiting for her to cross over to the boisterous men several tables over before sliding something across to table to Eskel.
It's the pin from before. Still in surprisingly good shape too, for all the jostling it's taken. ]
Didn't get a chance to ask before you took off to get knocked around, but does this look familiar? Any ideas where it was made?
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Never seen anything like it. But that's not unusual, artifacts aren't really my forté.
[Still, his curiosity has him studying it carefully up close, thinking of how he had seen her use it.]
It...kinda reminds me of artifacts mages use to imprison certain entities or even the spirit of a person. A sorcerer would be a better person to ask, but good luck finding one outside of a major city that's feeling chatty.
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That so? Damn pity, I figured you and your kin would be the best people to ask.
[ Her chair thumps back down on all four legs so she can lean in a bit, voice pitched low enough to be less easily picked up on by any of the curious yokels. While it's doubtful any average peasant would have the slightest clue what they're talking about, but it's always better to be miserly with trade secrets, especially if subject to gossip.
A muscle in her jaw tightens as she stares at the pin perched in his hand like it personally offended her honor. ]
I won't bore you with the details, but that thing's the sole reason why I didn't catch the guy the first time around if you can believe it. [ Alix snorts. ] Took a year to figure out why.
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[Mapping out internal systems, studying behavioral patterns of the beasts he hunts, necropsies on unusual specimens. Could he crack a riddle like this? Sure, but it might take him more time than an expert in enchanted jewelry.]
How so? You mentioned something vague like he'd cheated death or something?
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Something tells me he wouldn't be receptive to that idea.
[ Considering how the order master reacted to getting something as benign as mail, an approach that bold is guaranteed to backfire in a spectacular fashion. Something along the lines of 'apoplectic' sounds appropriate.
Damn her if she isn't tempted anyway. ]
Substituted someone else, snared them in a bauble, and wore them like a suit until the ledgers were balanced... or whatever they do. [ Honestly, it would be an impressive undertaking if it wasn't also causing mass inconvenience with the underworld's accounting department. Serious stuff. ] Whoever made his shroud knew what they were doing.
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Bad news. Shit like that? Banned by the mage's governing bodies. Now you're looking at black market stuff and if you think a mage of the Brotherhood is hard to get ahold of? Those who got kicked out for things like this? Even harder to find. You're probably looking for a necromancer and they don't deal out on the open.
{{It's all good, I keep dropping my phone and typo-ing myself}}
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Oh, but fixing a mistake that serious has stipulations attached! [ Not surprising since it's mucking around with the natural order of How Things Work™. ] The bearer needs to die under specific conditions - a trade of circumstance, in the stead of the person they replaced. Since I didn't have the expertise to do your job...
[ She trails off, shrugs, and lets the insinuation percolate on its own.
The trespassing, the letter, the basilisk, this entire fuss from square one, because of one person. Needless to say, any more of these shrouds being made means a lot more work for her, and almost certainly more contracts heading to the Witchers in general.
Meaning if he thought this catch-and-release was bad, it might actually get worse. ]
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[ Shrug. ]
It's unlikely the mark would've run into it otherwise and letting things continue as they were was deemed unacceptable. So here we are.
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[He scratches the scar twisted deep into his cheek.]
Well, it's sorted now. Well, that guy anyway. Next you'll have to figure out where that came from.
[He gestures to the strange little brooch.]
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[ Frankly the less she has to think about future frustrations the better. It's moments like this Alix misses the sensation of being incredibly, embarrassingly, irredeemably drunk. All the better to ignore pressing business for much later - and the inevitable headache that comes with it.
Alas, 'tis but a dream. In the meantime the slumbering gem gets spirited away into her breast pocket before the gleam of it draws unwanted attention. ]
In any case... it's a problem better left for the morrow.
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[He agrees, speaking into the echoing shell of his mug before he drains it and waves for another.]
A tale? No. But everyone knows that Destiny will not be denied. It always finds you in the end, for better or worse. Darlin', will you bring me a whisky with that beer?
[He tacks on something stronger from the barmaid who won't look him in the face, though a shiny coin tip seems to ease her discomfort a little bit.]
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Yes, a bath and some late night mending with needle and thread is certainly in order. ]
Wisest words I've heard all week.
[ Alix sips from the pale beer more daintily now that the initial thirst has worn off (or... whatever approximation of it she has), meeting his request for the harder spirit with a raised eyebrow as the barmaid hurries away.
It makes perfect sense the regular swill wouldn't do much for a witcher, but she finds herself surprised anyway. ]
More worse than better if the fables are anything to go by.
Cruel fates aside... what's next for you? Straight back to the den, clearing out the countryside, something else?
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