Fix Ox
Tenebrae - Tuesday, September 06, 2016, 4:23 PM
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A15: Mithralla Merchandise *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Here, a large wooden structure has been built. Its somewhat eccentric yet elegant design suggests its owner may be of the arcane persuasion. To the side of the main structure is a small corral to for horses or wagons. Before the central building, a massive sword emerges from the earth. A sign upon it reads: "MITHRALA MERCHANDISE."
Inside is a small seating area with several comfortable chairs. To the back, an unobtrusive but businesslike sales counter, and two large signs. One asks patrons to please wait here and not disrupt those inside the lab. The other offers a lab rental at a very reasonable rate.
To the left and right are a large set of doors. The doors on the right lead to a large room which takes up most of the building. Several long tables are scattered about, many with small tool racks. A small forge sits off to the side. Unlike the average workshop, maps of celestial bodies and guides to the elemental planes line the walls. Large frameworks of brass, silver, and crystal occupy space between the tables. A large shelf dominates the far wall, the containers upon it sporting such labels as "wyvern bile," "sulfur," "tiger's tears," and other exotic items. A glass-covered hole in the roof, set with mirrors, offers direct sunlight, or moonlight, to shine upon various projects.
The doors to the left lead towards the direction of the mountains and what is reported to be a sildanyari-style ball room. Wizards.
During regular store hours, a young Llyranesi man, Belhan Mikilos, keeps an eye on the shop and the lab. When not cleaning or helping a customer, he can usually be found reading some book from the library.
Mikilos is set up outside the shop, taking advantage of the light of the yard. The elf has an easel set up, and a few canvas nearby, in various states of paint. The elf himself is currently paint free.
Ga'Elian comes to a landing somewhere between the large elemental and the Llyranesi's easel. Beast and rider had been riding the air currents over the Mountain Road. Ga'Elian looks around a moment, then dismounts. He approaches Mikilos. "Beautiful sunset."
Mikilos glances up at the arrival, and raises a brush in greeting. "Was orginally a sunrise, but I kept getting distracted. I suppose it all works out in the end. How are you?"
Ga'Elian chuckles. "Well, either way. Life does have a tendency to do that, doesn't it?"
Despite the sunshine streaming down between the fluffy clouds in sunset bursts and fades as the wind sweeps high over the mountain and freshens the previously leaden air, the day is cold. Or one might assume that Myrana has deemed it so as she comes riding slowly up the mountain road. Sitting side-saddle with the fall of her bustled skirts draping the flank of her horse, she's bundled up in a cloak that's much much too big for her and has swallowed just about everything but her cold white hands where they hold the reins. A scarf is wrapped about her neck and hangs over the folds of the bristly wool cloak in a splash of colour, but her dark hair is messily braided down her back and she never bothered to put on a hat.
A crunching of hooves on the skittery gravel of the road announces her as she comes at a lazy walk up to the yard of Mithralla Merchandise and leans back in the saddle to halt the big warhorse, normally seen nowadays pulling the cart for the Ox, making deliveries out in the countryside.
"Mister Mithralla?" she calls, looking up at the windows and not budging from the saddle just yet, stiff and with dark smudges under her eyes. "Are you at home?"
Mikilos nods, and shrugs, adding a hint more of color along the clouds in his effort. The magus is no master, but does have some bit of skill in his art. Or at least a lot of practice. Blinking a the second arrival, he smiles, an raises a hand in greeting. "Lady Jn'rajh! Over here! What has you out and about this evening?"
Mikilos glances to Ga'Elian to include him in the question.
Ga'Elian makes a small bow to the lady, respectful yet casual. He pats the griffon on the shoulder and looks back to say, "We've been aloft for a couple hours, looking around the mountains. It's now time to give Erithamiel's wings a rest, have some dinner, see if there is ought newsworthy from the City."
Myrana looks over, and seeing the two men smiles a little wearily, looking utterly drained but upright in the saddle. Either that or she's unable to move under that monster cloak. Nudging the horse over that way, she sets the reins on her uppermost knee and folds her hands on top of them. "There was a bit of an incident in the Ox yesterday. I might have burned through the rafters, so I've been too nervous to go upstairs to my apartment." She pauses and the horse shifts under her, nosing at the roadside stones for something. "And there's a wall missing."
Mikilos blinks, and moves closer to offer a hand to assist the lady down. "Geeze, I'd heard something had happened, but thought it was just the regular sort of brawl. Exaggerated tales and all that. Come inside, we can have some tea. If you'd like, you're perfectly welcome to make use of a guest room and freshen up. We can head back in a little while and I'll figure something out to secure the upper floor safely. Perhaps a bit of stone rafters." He manages to keep most of the 'I told you so' out of his tone. Glancing to Ga'Elian, he nods. "The stables should have plenty of room, and there's bread and cheese with the tea. Can't say I've heard anything of real note from the city today, just the regular sort of gossip."
Ga'Elian looks a bir surprised as he replies, "Thanks. That sort of news is certainly beyond the ordinary. May I see your steed into the stable, milady?" The ranger takes a minute to pet the horse's neck and let the animal sniff him.
GAME: Ga'Elian rolls WildEmpathy/animal: aliased to Ranger+Charisma: (10)+7+1: 18
Accepting the hand down, Myrana unhooks her knee from the saddle post and slips down with a crunch of gravel underfoot and a veritable landslide of wool cloak. Why she didn't just go to her wife's abode is a mystery; possibly they're having a fight of some kind, or she just doesn't want to have Sandy turn into a ball of fire too close to her face when she hears about what happened from literally any one of her drinking buddies. "Thank you, mister Faravanilas, that's very kind of you. Erikken, <go with him>." She gives the old warhorse a command in a very unpleasant sounding language.
"Thank you, Mikilos." says Myrana with a decided 'yeah I remember' sort of sigh. Contrite. Not that she'd ever in a million years admit it. But she takes his offer, and once they're inside dissapears into one of the guest rooms, muttering about architecture.
When she reappears its in a clean day dress of rose linen with black trim, her hair freshly washed and dried and coiffed more appropriately. Hanging alongside her copper chatelaine amid the fall of her skirts is a small purse of green and brass.
"I'm going to suspect you of holding secret occult meetings," she tells Mikilos. "The exciting kind, with stabbing and wailing. So many rooms!" She went snooping.
Bors has arrived.
Mikilos chuckles, serving up tea and refreshments in a small sitting room not too far from the public part of the library. Easy enough to find should anyone have need of him. "No no, those meeting are all held at the Society. Neutral ground and all that. No, I do keep a number of rooms prepared in case kinsmen drop in. Or if there's a swell of refugees in need of a place to rest. Sadly, that's the more likely situation. The temples do well enough, but sometimes they havn't the warning to get things ready. But, ever since the time cousin Julian arrived with a scouting patrol, I've tried to keep a number of guest rooms on hand." He sets down the tea, and looks to Myrana seriously. "But you really shouldn't wander. I keep most of the halls closed, but wouldn't be hard to get lost. I don't have things set up for proper safety yet."
"I would be remiss if I didn't snoop a little for when you are a great deal older and start terrorizing people in your fusty old wizard-dom," Myrana intones, taking a seat and accepting some tea very gladly. Taking a sip, she looks at him over the cup's rim more seriously before putting it down. "I didn't go into any rooms that looked too private, I promise. May I eat the vast majority of that jam?" Point.
Ga'Elian enters the well-appointed facility, and gazes around, taking in the structure and decor. He makes his way to the sitting room and says, "All stabled. Lord Mikilostravia, you have well captured the richness of the Llyranesi in the furnishings of this edifice. Why, I could easily believe we were in Llyranost."
Bors comes in carrying a crate. Mikilos might have been expecting a delivery of fishy spell components or magic item ingredients or something, but this is a new deliveryman. He looks around, grunts dismissively at Myrana and Ga'Elian, and then up at Mikilos. "You're the tall one; this is your place?" he asks from where he stands, by the door. "Got a delivery here for you." He names one of the usual suppliers in fishy parts. His accent and appearance are Xian, but here he is.
Mikilos serves an elven blend, more akin to warm berry juice than a typical tea, but still with the soild herb tones that make for a good brew. "You're welcome to the jam, I've already eaten." This week. The mage seldom dines, subsiting upon raw magical power. Smileing, he nods to Ga'Elian, accepting the compliment. "I think tradition works in woods, not stone, but I try to keep to a familiar tone. Please, sit." Blinking, he turns attention to the delivery, and nods. "Yes, I am Magus Mithralla. Thank you. Do you need a signature?"
Myrana leans forward and with barely polite appetite starts slathering jam on her toast. A lot of jam. Likely because of burning her bar down, however that came about; a lot of sorcerers have metabolisms like mana-cannons, and consume a great deal when they've expended their magical energies.
Ga'Elian does sit down, and says, "Of course, I shouldn't be surprised. You have always exhibited superb craftsmanship on the item I've commissioned from you. It only stands to reason that you'd be just as careful with your home." To Bors merely nods, then says to Myrana, "What wrought the damage in your tavern? Was it a demon attack?"
Bors grunts to Mikilos, nods about a signature. "Sure, that's fine. Where do you want your fish guts?" he asks. The crate, sealed, is still a little drippy, and Bors is clearly a workman from one of the boats or the docks. He smells strongly of fish. OK, he reeks.
Myrana acknowledges the old man with silent politeness before eating some toast piled high with clotted cream and raspberry jam. Its basically her favourite thing. Chewing, she considers the question, not seeming to give a flip about the fishgut smell; she runs the Ox, which is on the docks. But she doesn't answer right away, sipping tea and taking slightly smaller bites, obviously trying to think how to answer and keep her stomach from eating itself audibly at the table.
Mikilos gives his signature, and lays a hand upon the stone wall, the material peeling back to a small cupboard inside, just large enough for the crate. Either prepared for this moment, or just created from the stone, it neatly seals away the fishy package. Ready to be returns when the wizard is ready for whatever he does with fish parts. Or maybe it's meant to remain in the wall? Beware monsters, don't damage the Manor, lest ye find pockets of very rotten fish? "Thank you. Would you care fro some tea. There's plenty to go around."
Ga'Elian takes a bite of his toast. He says, "I will likely have another commission soon, if you're available. Although at present, I haven't yet decided exactly what yet."
Bors puts the crate inside. He looks pretty impressed at the magic - apparently they don't get much of the flashy stuff at the docks. He takes the signed document and stuffs it away in his vest, which can't be good, and scratches himself absently. "Tea? Yeah, sure," he says with a smille that shows years of indifferent dental care. "Hey," he says to Myrana and Ga'Elian tersely.
Mikilos nods to Ga'Elian. "Just let me know. Most comissions only take a couple days, so shouldn't be too difficult to work you in." Nodding to Bors, the mage pours a fourth cup, and takes a seat himself. "I don't believe we've met. New to the city?" he inquires politely.
Ga'Elian nods, and simply turns to Bors. He smirks as he says, "My steed would go crazy smelling you, sir. He is always eating fish, but usually from the river. Once in a while, he gives me thorough soaking in the process. I mean, he dives just low enough to put his beak under the surface, and I get water sprayed all over me. In the summer, I didn't usually mind, but lately, you just don't dry off so very fast."
Bors nods to Mikilos. "Yeah," he replies, his accented Tradespeak passable for the simple phrases he's using. He peers sidelong at Ga'Elian, puzzled until the beak is mentioned. "Hah," he says as he realizes it's not a horse Ga'Elian rides that eats fish. He shrugs about drying off. Working on a boat kind of gets you used to wet.
Mikilos nods, and sighs. "Won't be that much longer before the river freezes over. Seems was just a few days ago it finally thawed out. The summer sort of flew past. Ah well, am sure the winter will past with its own sort of speed."
Ga'Elian shakes his head affirmatively. "Yeah. Out of the frying pan and into the ice box. Anyway, this artificer has been trying to get me to let him do some improvements to my bow and other gear. Frankly, I have no reason to doubt his quality, but the thought of putting magitech into my armor and weapons just wierds me out a bit. I'm much more comfortable with pure magic, at any rate magic is one of the energies found in the wild."
Bors shrugs about the speed of seasons. Must be an elf thing. Sipping his drink, he settles into a seat. It'll need cleaning when he's gone, most likely. He peers at Ga'Elian, and nods slowly in agreement. "Yeah."
Mikilos nods, and frowns mildly. "I've never been comfortable with artifice. I admit, it's done many great things, but I think all of those could have been acomplished with dedicated application of traditional arcane power."
Ga'Elian finishes his toast, and says, "Well, on that note. I'll look you up again when I've figured out my priorities. Thank you for the snack." Then to Bors, "Nice to make your acquaintance. I'm Ga'Elian, by the way." Finally he stands, bows again to Myrana, and strides off towards the outdoors.
Bors nods to Ga'Elian, and says something muffled, the louder, "Bors." That's a pretty common name in Alexandria, but in Xian, where his appearance and accent give as his birthplace, it's likely he'd have been the only Bors in the nation. So, an alias, then? He shrugs to Mikilos, but says, "If the Kultians had been wizards, we'd be saying the same thing about you." His accent is a bit hard to understand when he puts a lot of words together. He's clearly not a magic type, in any event, so his tone is dismissive of the issue in general. He finishes the drink he'd been offered, and rises from the chair. "Thanks," he says, gesturing with the glass, which he sets down on the chair, and makes his way out.
Mikilos nods, and rises to show the guests out... one wrong turn could lead to miles of unmarked tunnels. Of course, is just the one turn, but it's an important one. Turning back to Myrana, he smiles. "Feeling better?"
Bors has left.
Myrana nods to Bors and Gal'Elian as they make their way out from the sitting room and about their business, having been silent for a while over her tea and toast. Somewhere at her feet, her familiar Rum is sleeping on his back, having exhausted himself batting at the edge of silk trimming her bustle. When Mikilos returns, she's much less ravenous, and is wiping her lips genteely with a napkin. All the jam is gone, and most all of the toast. If Madam Gelfure could've seen the sorceress tuck that shit away like that, Myra's already shaky reputation as a member of polite society might be seriously questioned.
"I am, thank you." She smiles. "I'm sorry for eating you out of house and home without answering your questions first."
Ga'Elian has left.
Mikilos laughs, and waves vaugely. "Don't worry about it. The larder is well stocked and I'm happy to share. Now, I've heard a little in passing, but what was it that happened?" He takes a seat again, and takes up his tea, which still manages to be piping hot despite having sat for a while. Magic.
Myrana picks her teacup and saucer up again and poises one above the other with a faint click of porcelain. "Last night I came downstairs after some fighting woke me up, and the sound of glass breaking; there shouldn't have been any of the latter with those damn bars that we have-- had. When I opened the stairwell door into the common room, I saw a number of people fighting these... creatures." Her gaze darkens a little, and she lowers the cup onto the saucer and holds them a little above her lap in both hands, shoulders straight and lips faintly pursed. "I don't know if I can describe them very well. They were very strange. Sort of... elongated. No faces." Pausing, she takes a breath and shakes her head. "One of them was gripping a lady in my bar while the others fought it and others of the creatures, and its arms were pulsing. Then it looked at -me-, and it called another one. A -big- one, that crashed in through the front wall, taking the door and the other window out with it."
Myrana says, "I can't describe how queer I felt when the huge one grabbed me. It hurt, but mostly I felt very faint, and I was so frightened I tried to burn it off me. I don't know if it even noticed."
Mikilos nods seriously. "Creatures of other planes often have traits hard to describe. It's okay. They don't sound like anything I recognize, but I get the general idea."
"So you believe they were extra-planar?" Myrana seems a little surprised. "I don't really know that much about the planes, outside of..." She pauses, and reconsiders. "Well, outside of the hells."
Mikilos shrugs. "Daemons, void touched, mutated via artifice gone wrong... all have aspects of realities beyond what is considered 'normal'."
Brushing the bangs from her face, Myrana nods. "When they were finally dead, myself and the other mages there were drained and weak. The bodiess of the creatures melted into my floorboards without any residue that I could see." Taking a breath, she pours herself more tea. "In any case, I'd like to ask you for help remodeling the Ox. I need new cieling beams, and a new wall, and all manner of things. I've got Mister Fazahd offering to help as well, so you wouldn't be the only one responsible for the entire business, and I'll have a cleanup crew there tomorrow."
Mikilos nods. "I'd be happy to assist. I've met Fazahd, he was a little annoyed when the stove he put in needed repair. Apparently he had yet to truely grasp the nature of the Oxley."
Myrana flushes, rolling her eyes. "He's been... well, he's young," she says, trying not to sound exasperated. "He wants me to open up a /bath/."
Myrana says, "For the neighborhood."
Mikilos considers a few moments, and shrugs. "He'll learn, I suppose. I'll have to talk with him about some of my own efforts. The steam showers went all sorts of wrong. And that was at an organized war camp, not a town."
"I think that would be of more use than my voicing my concerns that the Oxleys would try to peep at bathers or cause some horrible scene." Myrana shudders. "I have a hard enough time with my own doors. But speaking of which..." She sets her cup and saucer down and stands, smiling and brushing off her skirts. "Thank you for the tea, Mikilos. I should get back and figure out how to remove my things from the apartment before it all falls on someone. I hope no-one is drinking downstairs."
Mikilos laughs. "I'm almost sure there's some regular drunk who's found his way inside. But you're quite welcome. I'm going to gather up some supplies, and I'll be down myself in a little while. Likely won't be able to do much by way of repairs, but I should be able to secure things enough to start working safely."
Myrana smiles, and thanking Mikilos leaves the purse that was hanging from her chatelaine on the table before leaving to collect her horse from the stable and ride back down the mountain road.
Myrana has left.