Iniga isn't thrilled that more people apparently know her as 'strawberry' and resolves to return to bar at some point within the next twelve months and tell the bartender. For now though, she acts flustered as if the pet name was kind and flattering.
"To good fortune" Iniga responded simply, preferring to drink to good luck rather than celebrations. She sips her drink, taking careful note of her interactions. While it would have been enormously satisfying to drink Rentwyrth under the table it was more important to pad the mans ego - if he believed he could hold his drink better than Iniga he was more likely to let his guard down in the future.
So Iniga proceeds to act in a very un-Iniga like way, playing into whatever preconceptions that Rentwyrth might have about her. She giggles, she gives the impression that she is becoming a little unsteady and uncoordinated and she keeps the topic of conversation on what she predicts is Rentwyrth's favourite topic - Rentwyrth himself. She lets the man shift the conversation into the direction he pleases, hanging on his every word, but ever watchful for the opportunity to ask more about Cwmwl (by pretending to be utterly ignorant about it).
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I promise Iniga being called by pet names won't become a "thing", except Rentwyrth who is a bit of a jerk
"So, lead on, elder brother. Breakfast awaits.", Wamblee says, with the slightest of smiles.
Samen, Wamblee:
After a breakfast of banana pancakes and ginger ale at a local diner down the road, Samoon is closer to feeling elen.
"So run this through for me one more time? Let's be wildly optimistic and assume we get through to Helen. And I say, 'Hey there friend, my two large oread brothers and I wanted to shoulder our way in here and ask you for a pinch of cwmwl because...." He rolls his hand forward, asking one of you to continue the sentence for him.
Iniga:
You play Rentwyrth like a lute; he never tires of talking about himself, his accomplishments, and his money. When he brings up cwmwl, he claims to be the one who made the breakthrough. "I could show you a bit of it sometime, if you're curious. It's worth more than mithril, doll. It'll make me another fortune to pile on top o' the first." His details are all vague, and he says you would be unlikely to understand the technical aspects.
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Samen shrugs. "I see no reason to be deceptive. We would like a sample because everyone else is busy researching scaling production and discovering new applications for it, and we have a prophetic elemental warning us of widespread destruction. We would simply like to investigate potential risks or side effects."
He takes a swig of his ale. "And in the likely event she kicks us out, I say we let the town fall and focus on our own priorities. No one spared Rokerenge."
Iniga learns forward slightly in her chair when Rentwyrth boasts of his apparent achievement. Really? They say that this material means that the war with the dark will be over now. That would make you the el that made the historic discovery that ended centuries of conflict. No wonder you are celebrating. Would you be able to show me sometime? I would be so impressed” she replies, placing slight emphasis on the word
Marianne nods at Samen's final words. "That's the Samen I know and love."
Iniga:
Rentwyrth basks in your praise, but he waves his hand at your request. "Another time, love." He sways slightly in his seat, but his words are still clear. "Whatsay I blow off my friends and we have one more drink at my place? A quick nightcap?"
Samoon nods. "Yeah, you're right, Samen. Helen appreciates honesty, so that's what I'll give her."
Wamblee, Samen, etc:
As you walk down the steps outside Samoon's cheap flat, you notice it is snowing. Awnings and foodcarts already have over an inch of snow upon them, but the streets do not seem to accumulate anything.
Most of the elens in the crowd around you are wearing either Alchemist red-and-silver or Mage green-and-orange, all eating, walking, and talking about the caith match this evening.
Samoon stops at an intersection now and then, mumbling to himself, looking at brick buildings named after long-dead elens. He seems mostly sure of where he is going. At one point, a shower of brilliant blue sparks descends from wires above, and there is a sound suspiciously like an explosion. Your brother, as well as all the other townies, ignore this phenomenon, simply continuing along the street.
You come to a weather-beaten block of stones with the words "Chymical Supplyes" written in huge yellowed ivory letters. A very still vulture sits perched on a nearby pole. Samoon clears his throat. "Ah, Samen, don't suppose you have any conjurations these days to clean an el up, or make him a bit more presentable? Or are you still in the burning and melting trade?"
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"Sadly, more of the latter. I experimented some with trans-elenism in Branch, but lately, it just makes more sense to be prepared to bring down the hammer than anything else."
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"Lots of fire. But that was rather helpful in cleaning up Erret."
Iniga:
Rentwyrth basks in your praise, but he waves his hand at your request. "Another time, love." He sways slightly in his seat, but his words are still clear. "Whatsay I blow off my friends and we have one more drink at my place? A quick nightcap?"
"That sounds like an amazing idea. Where exactly is your place? Is it far?" she asks, pretending like she couldn't wait. She goes to stand before swaying slightly and wearing a guilty look on her face "Hmm, I might need to use you for a bit of support in order to get there" she observes with a giggle.
Samoon shrugs. "Ah well, it was worth asking." He flips a silver to a street vendor on the corner. The young el tips his worker's cap to Samoon, then turns on his machine, bursting with tubes and wires. A brief buzz of crimson celerity, and a small magical breeze blows out, removing dirt, shining shoes, and even tidying Samoon's hair. Your brother mutters a distracted thanks and takes the wide stone steps up to the supply building.
Inside, a large foyer, polished floors, halls in three directions. Ignoring these, Samoon takes a sharp left, leading you to a narrow, winding set of stairs.
Hands in his pockets, whistling tunelessly, Samoon says, "Now, at the bottom of these stairs, we will find..."
A large silver golem, taller than the seven-foot models you have seen around town, stands at the bottom, completely blocking the door beyond.
"State Business Or Go Elsewhere."
Samoon jumps. "Ahh, volc! Okay, a big scary golem, cac, uh, how do you talk to these things..." He rubs his temples, muttering, thinking aloud, "Ah, ahem. Heed, Golem! Message For Helen Instra. Reads, 'Samoon To See You'. Proceed, Golem."
A beat of metallic silence. Once again the echoing, empty voice intones, "Proceeding. Do Not Enter Without Permission, Or You Will Die."
The construct opens the door, and contracts in some machine-like way, perfectly fitting through the door way. Another of the towering golems waits beyond. Wordlessly, the second golem makes room for the first, then closes the door again.
Samoon looks paler than sleep deprivation or a hangover can account for. He looks frightened.
Wamblee turns to Samoon and whispers with concern in his voice:
"What is the problem, Samoon? Are you okay?"
"Just don't make any wrong moves, okay? Those...those are the nasty ones."
Wamblee, Samen:
You hear the golem's returning footsteps. Pointing a huge finger at Samoon, "Come With This One To Helen Instra."
Samoon complies immediately, following two steps behind. You are taken down a stone block hallway, cold and damp. Doors on either side, labeled with esoteric names, groups of chemicals. At the end, on the left, a newer-looking door, with gold lettering that says 'Helen Instra, Head Supplier'.
The golem stands next to the door. It says nothing, just looks at you with empty eyes. Its smooth, shining face, with only the barest hints of nose and cheekbones, betrays nothing.
Samoon knocks. From the next room, "Come."
With one last nervous glance at the golem, Samoon walks in, beckoning the rest of you to follow. "Helen, it's been a whil-"
A commanding, weathered voice comes from the middle-aged ele. "No. No pleasantries." Her gray hair is cut very short. She has the eyes of a vulture - patient, scanning for weaknesses. Her eyes land on Samen. "You. Tell me why you are here. Samoon has no doubt some pretty speech prepared, and I have no interest in it. I would rather hear awkward truths than polished feces."
Iniga:
A stumbling Rentwyrth waves down a pogona-drawn carriage. He steps in first. Paying the driver a few coins, he slurs an address and sits back in the seat, looking half-asleep.
Mumbling about what a great time he is having, Rentwyrth's eyes close a few times during the ride. A quarter candle later, you arrive at a nice-looking flat. You see a balcony above, housing a small garden of flowers.
However, this is not what you were expecting. According to Samoon, Rentwyrth should have a mansion on the north side of town, and you are still on the southside.
Iniga leans against Rentwyrth on the ride back, resting her head on his shoulder. She keeps track of the various turns and is surprised to find herself in a different area of town.
Iniga's pulse spiked before she took a breath and tried to relax. As far as Rentwyrth thought, she was a happy, drunk, naive young ele who could barely stand unaided. Which meant that he still didn't view her as someone with worrying about. Besides, someone half-asleep didn't usually seem like someone with a master evil plan - usually the excitement and planning makes them less likely to sleep.
So she relaxes and struggles to make her way outside the carriage. "What a wonderfully pretty place you have Rentwyrth, its certainly more modest than I would have expected from an el with you level of accomplishments" she remarks curiously.
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She wants awkward, eh? She picked the right brother.
"Very well. *ahem* Our biggest risk right now is you laughing us out onto the street for not believing our tales. We come here with no motive beyond wanting to help.
Has news of what happened in Rokerenge made it here? An ancient buried beast, some called it a dragon, co-opted the power of brass to sap the will the entire village. We killed the beast, but could do nothing for the people.
We've seen root cleared out by darkspawn.
We've seen the fey use gem magic to attempt to incite a war between the Oreads and Hearth at the Winter-meet.
We've seen oversized and mutated animals in the river. Actually, I have the scars to prove that one. Volc'ing thing nearly bit me in half.
Anyway, we've seen enough recent disasters throughout the land. We have inherited a captive spirit of a prophetic mud elemental. It requires the patience of the gods to listen to it, but my brother is patient. It warned us of the last disaster, the one at the Meet. It has warned us of one here. 'A silver rain will fall'.
Vague, I know. But what's new in Light? What alchemical substance has a relationship to both silver and clouds? What thing isn't fully understood but has a lot of els tinkering with it?
At the very least, we wished to pass along the warning. Preferably, though, we would like to assist in ferreting out potential unexpected side effects of this new wonder substance."
He stops briefly, before adding one last thought.
Personally, we have nothing to gain and nothing to lose. Listen to us or not, it's on you now."
"My younger brother has spoken truly. We had a warning to pass on and we would assist if we can."
Iniga:
Rentwyrth seems, if anything, embarrassed, though he tries to hide it. "Oh, ah...well love, my big fancy place is being cleaned right now, you know, get it in tip-top before my next big party."
Inside, an open floor plan, with kitchen, couch, a liquor cabinet. Rentwyrth fiddles with a machine next to the cabinet, and ghostly string music plays from the wide bellmouth.
"So love, make yourself comfortable and we'll have that nightcap."
Wamblee, Samen:
Hands steepled, eyes intent, Instra is expressionless through Samen's explanation. "And I suppose your assistance would involve getting some cwmwl for yourselves?" She says it airily, as if a trifling matter.
Iniga:
Rentwyrth seems, if anything, embarrassed, though he tries to hide it. "Oh, ah...well love, my big fancy place is being cleaned right now, you know, get it in tip-top before my next big party."
Inside, an open floor plan, with kitchen, couch, a liquor cabinet. Rentwyrth fiddles with a machine next to the cabinet, and ghostly string music plays from the wide bellmouth.
"So love, make yourself comfortable and we'll have that nightcap."
Iniga hovers close to Rentwyrth, so that she could reach him in one movement, she wanted to be close to him in case something nasty developed. The lie was weak - almost pathetically so, but Iniga was quietly pleased by this - it meant that the man considered her too drunk, stupid or naive for anything cleverer.
Then the man puts some music on and she seizes the opportunity to stand close - as people tend to do when music is playing. ”I’m plenty comfortable, so what now?” she breathes into his ear
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Samen shrugs guiltily. "I mean... yes? We're not looking to profit off this, and we'd share whatever we happen to learn. I understand it's an unreasonable request, but failing to offer our assistance would likewise be unreasonable."
Wamblee, Samen
You sense through the stone floors and walls the presence of another elen (invisible) in the room. They are leaning casually against the wall behind Instra.
Instra looks away from a moment, then back at you. "If you truly wish to offer your services out of the kindness of your heart, I would allow you the use of our facilities to perform your research. No cwmwl would leave the building. Your actions would be monitored, and your findings would belong to us."
"Am I allowed to speak now? That deal stinks. Maybe we'll find some on the street instead, and if we find something amazing we'll make sure to sell it to your competitors first."
Iniga:
"Drink yer drink, and gi'us a kiss, love." His accent stronger now, his gestures expansive.
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Iniga smiles slightly at the mans gestures while cradling her drink "Why don't you give me a quick tour of the place - impress an ele"
Iniga figures that Rentwyrth would most likely agree with this request - most likely choosing to end his tour in a bedroom the way the el's mind was going.
Iniga's real reason behind the request, was to tour through the house. She was currently in two minds, Rentwyrth either pulled a double bluff and stored his valuables in this house or (more likely) there was nothing much of interest here at all. Iniga wanted to give the place a once over before she decided whether she was staying the night.
Iniga spends most of the tour trying to drive Rentwyrth crazy with desire, and when the tour ends she chews her lip for a moment before stepping away. "I'm sorry sir, I had a wonderful time but I should really go. I'd stay longer but..." Iniga shrugs her shoulders helplessly "...but we both know you were not being truthful earlier about your house being cleaned. Its fine, I'm not offended, I know that some els get self conscious about how they live and that some els like to over exaggerate. I wouldn't have judged you sir, for where or how you lived, but you didn't appear to have that self confidence...and confidence is the most attractive thing in an el."
Iniga takes another sad step backwards, looking disappointed. "I mean, for all I know this is your real house. I don't know much about you apart from what you told me, and I truly hope I'm wrong, and that you really are that famous, rich, confident, successful young el but since arriving here I...I don't see evidence of that. I'm sorry sir."
Iniga turns to leave, hoping she had needled the man well enough. She had tried to keep her tone subservient and respectful enough to avoid a physical response though. Rentwyrth would find it difficult to claim that he wasn't self conscious about where he lived without giving the real reason why his house was out of action. On the other hand, Iniga knew that it would eat away at him that an attractive ele would walk away from him with the wrong idea, thinking he was a charlatan or lacking confidence. In addition, Iniga knew that Rentwryth would hate, hate the fact that he was being turned down. He was Mr Rentwyrth, people looked up at him, people wanted to be him, but he had failed to impress Iniga.
Iniga figured that there were a number of ways this could go and was prepared for most of them. Rentwyrth could attack in a drunken lusty rage, in which case Iniga was prepared to stop him in his tracks. Alternatively, Iniga wondered if the els ego would be so bruised at the rejection based off Iniga's incorrect assumption about him, that he might invite her to his actual place - purely to rub her nose into his superiority. She stayed on alert, and waited to see whether Rentwyrth did something expected or unexpected.
"Sell it-" Samen glowers at Samoon incredulously. "What good is selling- No! It's a perfectly reasonable offer!"
He stops for a moment. His shoulders slump as he transitions from agitated to confused. "Oh wait, is this a negotiation thing? Why are we negotiating?"
Wamblee, Samen:
Helen Instra does not spare a glance toward Samoon, replying instead to Samen. Her voice is dry, with a hint of irony. "No, it is not a negotiation thing. I'm glad you think the offer acceptable, Mister...?"
She politely waits for your name,
"...yes. I can get you started tomorrow morning, if it pleases you. I always welcome a fresh perspective."
"Excellent. Will that be all, gentle-els?"
Iniga:
Rentwyrth swallows, clearly not ready for the night to end on this note. His face is serious a moment, coming to some decision. "You want to see the real place, eh doll? Fine, come this way with old Renty and he'll show you."
Back down the stairs with the careful handrail grip of a drunk, hailing another pogona-drawn cab. He bows blearily. "Not everyone gets to see the view from the inside, love. You comin'?"
Iniga looks surprised at his offer, before she lightly kisses his cheek "Oh how could I refuse such a generous offer. Of course I'll join you, I would love to appreciate the view." she remarks, leaning lightly against him and taking his hand is hers.
"Why were you so anxious to show me see your home sir? You can tell me, I won't judge!" she asks quietly, but curiously as they head towards a cab.
"Ah, uh, thank you, Ms. Instra. My name is Samen Firenze, and this is my brother Wamblee. You know Samoon already. We'll be here in the morning."
Samen is ready to leave, unless his brothers have anything else to add.
"Great. Let's not get our heads crushed by golems on our way out."
Samoon breathes in through his nose, then lets it out, steaming in the cold. "Okay. Helen is apparently a bigger player than I thought. To have those killers at her command..." He shakes his head. "I don't know what's going on."
Iniga:
"Never you mind, love. It won't be an issue."
A longer cab ride this time. North through manicured lanes of mirror birches, red and blue celerity dancing on wires above. You catch a glimpse of the strange, spherical buildings of the Mithril Makers.
Wealthier neighborhoods now - this is what you expected. Larger houses, fenced and gated from the common streets. The cab stops at the new address. Rentwyrth tips him well, accidentally dropping some coins on the ground.
The mansion is gorgeous. White marble and light woods, accented with splashes of color - inlaid gems here, vibrant flowers there.
"Was this, ah, more your style, love?"
Iniga's eyes widen slightly. The mansion was amazing, utterly beautiful. She turns to Rentwyrth to tell him so but hesitates slightly, seeing his mood. The el was still a colossal jerk, but she didn't see any malicious intent and something was causing him to experience such distress. The confident Rentwyrth in the bar was gone and now he looked like a wreck. This was nothing like Samoon had described, something was up. She frowns, putting on a more firm tone.
"Rentwyrth darling you are so anxious you are starting to sweat. Its not the most attractive quality I have ever seen in a romantic partner, and its distracting you. Take a deep breath and tell me whats going on or I won't take a step further. There is no way either of us are having any more fun tonight if you are this on edge."
Iniga leans against him from behind, wrapping her arms around him. "Breathe Rentwyrth" she mummers into his ear in a soothing voice, waiting for him to start doing so. "Now tell me why are you in a near panic and don't lie to me. Seeing it from my perspective, how likely is it that either of us will have a good time if you are in danger of having a heart attack at any moment hmm?"
Wamblee nods to Helen as Samen introduces them.
*********
Outside...
"That she does, Samoon. There was an invisible el leaning casually against the wall in the room. I imagine that is not usual."
"Too many of these damn mages and alchemists use invisibility! We need to look into how to see them, or counter them, or something. Give old Helen a surprise the next time she's hiding something from us."
Samoon straightens his scruffy lapels. "I take exception to that remark, even if I am an alchemist who uses invisibility on occasion."
Iniga:
A second Rentwyrth walks out of his house, looking at you and the first Rentwyrth. Now here is the imperious el you saw before, the bearing of amused indifference. "Yes, tell the lass. Remove this malaise of confusion, if ye'd be so kind." The first Rentwyrth, hands spread in protest, negation, apology, stumbles and falls to his knees.
The second Rentwyrth says, "Benny, I let you go out and spy me a little time, and you come back here with a girl rather than doing the business at the fun place?" tsking and clicking with his tongue, "Nae, it won't do Benny."
The first Rentwyth--but not him at all, this is Benny--blurs for a moment and now you see an older sylph in his place. His nose holds a patrician quality similar to Rentwyrth's, a cousin perhaps. Blubbering, "Mister Rentw-"
In a quiet tone nonetheless cutting through the babble, "You have one thin chance of living, my lad. Stop talking. Get yourself inside."
Beady little eyes, intelligent like a crow's, assess you. "And who might you be? Nae lies now."