Adventure: Love Bites

[KenHood]

"You misunderstand, my good sir! We--meaning my companions and myself--are newly 'blooded' suppliers of dragon-parts for reasonable prices."

 

[H.M.Gimlord]

"...Good for you, fresh air; that's what I always say...."

Mikara rolls her eyes.

 

[Dunamin]

A jolt runs through Woe’s off-hand when Skivean’s workshop comes into view, and by the time they knock on the door his fingers have been acting up with more than a few violent contractions. When the alchemist opens up, however, they instantly die out.

Tristan likewise wrinkles his nose. "I don't know, but judging by how well he's destroyed the earth and plants as well he must have some grudge against nature." His fingers trace the hilt of his blade for a second, then he turns to Hacker and Woe. "You two know this crazy?"

Woe’s usual smile comes off more than a little forced when he answers the avenger.

“Yes, unfortunately. Well enough to know his craft first-hand, so to speak.”

There is a clatter of glass, followed by a muffled curse, a crash of breaking glass, and a much louder curse. The door opens, and a weedy-looking half-elf steps out and closes the door behind him. Wisps of acrid red smoke billow out around the edges of the door for a moment, then start to pour out of the chimney, drifting away on the wind.

“Shaky! How’s tricks? Better than the "work" you did on my palm, I hope!” Woe thumps the half-elf on the shoulder hard enough to inadvertently knock his glasses off - a friendly gesture gone awry, at best.

The warrior steps inside, glances over the shattered remains of Skivean’s latest failed experiment, and takes a deep breath of the acrid air.

“I see conditions have improved here over the last two years! Finally found a fire-proof maid, have you?”

 

[covaithe]

"Really? Oh, my! How d-d-delightful! May I see what you have? What kind of dragon was it? Where did you find it? Oh, t-tell me everything! Real dragon-slayers; it's so exciting!" Skivean claps his hands together and does a little dance right there on the doorstep. Something white and flaky falls away from the hem of his robe.

 

[Dunamin]

[sblock=Bump]Had been waiting for a reaction from Skivean to Woe, but I just realized that absence of a reaction may be credited to his senility.

Was that the case?[/sblock]

 

[covaithe]

ooc: No, that would by my encroaching senility; I totally failed to notice that post. You must have ninja'd me....

“Shaky! How’s tricks? Better than the "work" you did on my palm, I hope!” Woe thumps the half-elf on the shoulder hard enough to inadvertently knock his glasses off - a friendly gesture gone awry, at best.

The warrior steps inside, glances over the shattered remains of Skivean’s latest failed experiment, and takes a deep breath of the acrid air.

“I see conditions have improved here over the last two years! Finally found a fire-proof maid, have you?”

"Woe Chinua? Bless my beakers, is that you? You look well, boy! No, I haven't found a fire-proof maid, haha. I don't see quite as well these days, though, and if I leave things scattered about like I used to, I trip over them and drop things that I really shouldn't drop." He laughs ruefully. "Happen to you too, one of these days. Ah, but you didn't come here to listen to an old man's complaints. What brings you here? Got another hole you need patching up?"

 

[KenHood]

"Yeah. Uh-huh. That's Woe for you! But LOOK!" says Hacker pulling a wrinkly mass from his pack, "Dragon brains! Fresh!"

 

[Dunamin]

"Woe Chinua? Bless my beakers, is that you? You look well, boy! No, I haven't found a fire-proof maid, haha. I don't see quite as well these days, though, and if I leave things scattered about like I used to, I trip over them and drop things that I really shouldn't drop." He laughs ruefully. "Happen to you too, one of these days."

“Well, I did have a temporary cruise through the thrills of impaired vision once, after a burning splinter of rum-coated wood momentarily got lodged into my eye. Thank Vena’s liberally oscillating bosom for magic healing!”

With a bittersweet smile, Woe pokes a finger through a tear in his glove, directly through Skivean’s ring-like implant in his palm, and straight out the back of his off-hand.

“If only it could fix it all, eh?”

"Ah, but you didn't come here to listen to an old man's complaints. What brings you here?"

“Indeed, as this fine gentlegnome here points out, we have exquisite dragon guts for sale! Special prize for you, Shaky! Freshly slain and butchered, a fine specimen from a rare gray subtype of dragon! ... Even more rare now, I suppose.”

Woe wanders back in the house, stopping to prod a big glass jar with something organic, obscure, and animate floating around inside.

“We might even throw in even more of a discount for old times’ sake, if you could help us out with information on one of your old colleagues. Father Serevas ring a bell?”

 

[covaithe]

"Ooh, those are lovely brains. So fresh and springy! And the acid glands are still intact, too! A fine job, whoever prepared this. Was it one of your friends, Woe? Well done, well done," he beams delightedly over his cracked spectacles. "I'd love to buy them all, but, well, I'm afraid, times being what they are, that, uh.... Well, the thing is... I am slightly short on hard cash at the moment. Too many breakages," he admits with what he probably expects to be rueful candor.

"Serevas, you say? He was that tutor working for the Donnervales or the Glasstons. Or... well, one of those families. Wasn't much of an alchemist, if you want the truth. Bit of a dabbler. He quit, after that ruckus over in Bacarte. I don't remember what it was, but it was supposedly a bit of a scandal. Enough that the family pensioned him off quietly. There were some thinking he might come set up shop out here, be a real alchemist, but he stopped practicing the Art. Went back to his original calling. He was a priest, you know. Anyway, last I heard he was working on rebuilding an old, ruined church of Mireva in Overgrowth. You know, preaching to the poor urchins and all that. Don't quite see the appeal, myself, but it takes all kinds, especially when it comes to the gods, eh?"

His eyes drift hopefully back toward the dragon brains.

 

[nerdytenor]

"A priest? He gave up alchemy to become a preist?" Kathalia rolls her eyes.

"Priests are so boooo-ring. Can't we find another dragon to fight? That was fun. Plus those religious types give me the heebie-jeebies. Say, what are you going to do with those dragon parts? Mom always told me to avoid the religious types. I hear if you infuse certain parts of the brain together with a touch of the spleen and half of a scale you get the most amazing... Hey what's that potion you have over there? Am I babbling again? I always found mother nature to be superior to all the gods, anyway. I think I must have munched on one too many menticulosus damnosus specimens I found. Crazy religious silly-people. Such a cute little mushroom. Want some want some?!?!? Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear."

"I'll shut up now. Shut up. Yes. Quiet. It's so nice to be quiet. Ah. But I hear something. What's that? Oh is it me? Wait it is me. Yes. That's my voice. Not yours. Oh dear. Right. OK then. Give me a minute here."

Without warning, Kathalia curls up into a ball on the floor and shuts her eyes.