wildemount would not let him die. (
mollymocked) wrote in
agentlelog2019-03-07 07:58 pm
Entry tags:
[open] as he climbs he dares to deliver the master stroke
Who: Mollymauk Tealeaf and whoever wants to join his shenanigans
When: Throughout March
Where: Various places
What: Influence threads!
Warnings: Self-harm if any threads get combative. I will warn accordingly.
a. baby light my fire
[So he's the wizard and the cleric now.
Molly doesn't enjoy doing things for free, even if he's one of the most generous persons around. There's a difference between throwing gold and silver at someone and then skipping off, and being asked (and a little bit expected to help with things for free, but he did agree to take up this bloody Jewel, and he supposes he should make good on an unspecified promise.
The heating spells are easy enough, as are the witchlights, which Molly has been inclined to play with to entertain the frightened and cold children. What he didn't expect was that due to a tiefling's natural body temperature, he is also a space heater in himself.
So there you are, minding your own business, checking on all these homes without power to see if anyone needs anything, and you find (1) tiefling in the dim light of the main room of a home with a pile of children using him as a pillow and the most unhappy look on his face. He mouths "help" very plaintively.]
b. shock it to me
[Molly has obtained more jobs in Draega than he has made up lies about his backstory and that's saying something. Admittedly, he took this one out of curiosity (Jon is that you??) and the hope for a possible fight, because between all of these odd jobs and stopping fires, he needs to do something with his restless hunter energy.
He's not a very smart person on a good day so giving someone who only seems to grasp Craft by accident a complicated task is a bad idea, but he is one hundred percent sure he has it down. Or at least assumes the person he's been partnered with does.]
Was it just me or did it seem like that Councilman could have explained this better? [He rubs his fingers together and then, very pointedly, presses his finger to the back of his partner's neck.
bzzt goes the tiny shock, because he just had to.]
c. dark knights
[Now this is about... half Molly's speed. Still a little more than he really wanted to be involved with, but the Council doing nothing rubs him raw and he's willing to help to be contrary at this point. If Fayura wasn't in a complicated position, she'd probably be fine with it.
Molly's set himself up on a corner, keeping an eye on people as they pass, his cards laid out in front of him as he tries to catch the eye of any passers-by, inviting them to have their fortunes told. Of course, it's all a distraction. The second he notices anything suspicious, he'll be on the prowl again, but for now hey evening Tarot readings.]
When: Throughout March
Where: Various places
What: Influence threads!
Warnings: Self-harm if any threads get combative. I will warn accordingly.
a. baby light my fire
[So he's the wizard and the cleric now.
Molly doesn't enjoy doing things for free, even if he's one of the most generous persons around. There's a difference between throwing gold and silver at someone and then skipping off, and being asked (and a little bit expected to help with things for free, but he did agree to take up this bloody Jewel, and he supposes he should make good on an unspecified promise.
The heating spells are easy enough, as are the witchlights, which Molly has been inclined to play with to entertain the frightened and cold children. What he didn't expect was that due to a tiefling's natural body temperature, he is also a space heater in himself.
So there you are, minding your own business, checking on all these homes without power to see if anyone needs anything, and you find (1) tiefling in the dim light of the main room of a home with a pile of children using him as a pillow and the most unhappy look on his face. He mouths "help" very plaintively.]
b. shock it to me
[Molly has obtained more jobs in Draega than he has made up lies about his backstory and that's saying something. Admittedly, he took this one out of curiosity (Jon is that you??) and the hope for a possible fight, because between all of these odd jobs and stopping fires, he needs to do something with his restless hunter energy.
He's not a very smart person on a good day so giving someone who only seems to grasp Craft by accident a complicated task is a bad idea, but he is one hundred percent sure he has it down. Or at least assumes the person he's been partnered with does.]
Was it just me or did it seem like that Councilman could have explained this better? [He rubs his fingers together and then, very pointedly, presses his finger to the back of his partner's neck.
bzzt goes the tiny shock, because he just had to.]
c. dark knights
[Now this is about... half Molly's speed. Still a little more than he really wanted to be involved with, but the Council doing nothing rubs him raw and he's willing to help to be contrary at this point. If Fayura wasn't in a complicated position, she'd probably be fine with it.
Molly's set himself up on a corner, keeping an eye on people as they pass, his cards laid out in front of him as he tries to catch the eye of any passers-by, inviting them to have their fortunes told. Of course, it's all a distraction. The second he notices anything suspicious, he'll be on the prowl again, but for now hey evening Tarot readings.]

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[And keeping that in his back pocket, just in case. For right now, there's work to be done. His darkvision pierces most of the alley as it extends just beyond thirty feet into the next block and comes up short beyond a little bit of movement that's probably a cat of some sort.] This one's clear, unless you think Snowball the Shop Cat is a murderer.
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If it were a shop cat, then it has a job-- keepin' vermin numbers low. [Molly can find whatever meaning he wants out of that.
But he pauses once more, sniffing the air. There's something else in the air... and he steps out into the street proper to seek it out.]
I smell some Blood wand'rin' about. [Spoken softly, just for Molly's ears.]
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Yeah, okay. This is a cat thing isn't it? Caleb's always saying that Frumpkin can smell really well even if he doesn't have darkvision for some stupid reason. Despite his confusion and comical experimentation, he does whisper back, casually:]
Out of curiosity, what exactly do Blood smell like?
[What? Unless they're Blood smelling like blood, it might just be folks out for a walk. Probably not, in this environment, but still not worth running directly towards fullspeed ahead. They need a plan.
And Molly apparently needs clarification on minor details.]
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But in all seriousness, describin' in words that I sense wont be simple.
Or quick, [is added when he looks away and notes some young Blood male walking on the other side of the street with a furtive look about him.]
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That's telling.]
Well, he's either up to something or freaked out by me- tends to go either way. Worth following for, though.
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He couldn't see the expression on the Blood male's face, his terrible sight in the dark is unable to pick out those specific details beyond a certain distance, so he'll take Molly's word for it. And of course, the way the man moves... Definitely telling.]
Oh-- definitely guilty. [Because the Blood male has ducked around a corner, clearly a poor attempt at shaking two men off of his trail.] Unfortunately for him that's never worked.
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The Blood falters and realizes he's now thoroughly trapped, which seems to mean it's time for him to play innocent. "What the hell are you two doing ganging up on a fella?"]
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I dunno-- maybe the dumb look on your face is just callin' for a beatin'. [This is emphasized by the cracking of his knuckles.]
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"Is that you lot do, then? Beat up on weaker Blood than you?" Molly's response is a toothy, sharp-fanged grin.] Where were you going?
[He shoots a glare at Molly. "Nowhere you need to know. Piss off."]
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A soft growl bubbles up from inside Rhus' throat, not loud enough to be a proper rumble, but still enough to be audible. Not unlike the soft growl a child afraid of the dark would stay awake for and attempt to hear, and Rhus promises many, many dire things if he's tested in that one sound.]
You said that once, we haven't pissed off just yet, mate. [Then he leans forward, releasing into the air a slight metallic tinge that smells far too much like blood, real lifeblood, followed by wisps of dark indigo magic.] Tell the man what he were wantin' to know, eh?
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The young man struggles, trying to twist out of Molly's grip. He'd try to Charm him, but Rhus seems to be doing fine all his own. "I was just out for a fucking walk! That's not a crime!"] Out for a walk this late when landens are being killed. Right. So that must be a big coincidence then.
["Must be," the man responds, but he's paled slightly.]
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Out this late an' ain' even drunk or walkin' home after visitin' a special friend. S'what I call a crime, definitely.
Where you goin'?
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[The Blood seems to see this as his way out- fool that he is- and says "Home, then."
Molly bares his teeth in a savage grin. Game. Set. Match.] Oh, excellent. I was hoping I'd get to walk someone home tonight.
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Where are you livin' then, mate? We'll escort you back an' make sure nothin' untoward happens. [But to whom? Rhus leaves out that part on purpose, just to make the Blood male sweat.
Perhaps metaphorically, but he does gain a glance from the man, before he begins to walk.
Or rather, shuffle, not unlike a prisoner being escorted somewhere.]
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Did we mention people were getting murdered out here? We're just looking out for your best interests.
[And like a rat going for bait, the Blood snaps, "That's just landens getting murdered, not Blood."] Oh, did you hear that, Rhus? That information certainly came to him quickly, didn't it?
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[Rhus leans in closer. He may be short, slightly shorter than the average man in this world, but he still knows how to be intimidating, especially when he has a certain man name Fray to draw inspiration and far more than that from.]
How're you so sure it's just landens, then?
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"'Cause I hear people talking."] Well, you know... That's fair, but I feel like when murders happen, people don't automatically assume a certain type of person is gonna be getting murdered, 'cause people who kill indiscriminately are gonna just take what they can get. And the only way a person would know for certain what a killer's aim is... well, if they knew how the murderer thinks.
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'Cause it's suspect, innit? [Rhus' grip tightens, causing the Blood male to wince.] Too specific, not even the regular people know all details an' tend to prefer not to talk 'bout it so easily an' openly.
They care 'bout their fellow men enough not to kill, y'see. Or their reputation enough not to be caught.
[If Rhus' speech is smoothing out to something less like someone with a street upbringing... Well. That's all part of the act too.]
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[The boy's face has turned scarlet in frustration and rage, but he says something.] I think you did. It's a shame we're not landens or that might have actually worked. Is that what you want? An unfair fight?
[There's another tense moment and then the dam bursts and the boy spits, "They're putting the asshole who killed the Councilwoman up like a Warrior Prince. How many other landens d'you think are gonna get similar ideas once they realize they can get away with it?"
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You think you know better'n the Queen, eh? The Queen, her First Circle, her Court, the Council, everyone else?
Wan' us to quote you on that? Spread the word an' say you were the one who started it? [And get the Blood male a new one ripped because he dared to question her like that?
Because that ripping would get bloody-- he'd bet just the Consort would be glad to do it himself, if the Master oF the Guard didn't beat him to it.]
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[That's all Molly's got. Rhus seems to be handling the rest of it, but what he does do once Rhus has had his piece is cuff the kid hard on the back of his head.] You're an idiot. Go the fuck home and if Rhus and I catch you out here, we will give someone with a piss-poor temperament your description and see what they do about it.
[The Blood starts moving and Molly kicks him in the ass to make him stumble. The Blood picks up his pace and Molly calls after him.] Trust us. I'm like a fucking bloodhound. If you try this again, I will find you.
[He's halfway down the street before Molly doubles over laughing. Picking on jerks is fun.]
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This greatsword is not for show.
[And once again his rough street accent has cleared a little more, as if he were noble born. Though it's not the threat of the blade that makes the Blood male scamper, perhaps. It's likely both Miqo'te and tiefling, really.
Should kill him, in any case. Prevention has always been better than reaction, has it not? That's not Rhus, but a thought from Fray sneaking into his mind as Molly starts laughing. And naturally it's a thought he pushes away quickly as he pats Molly on the shoulder again.]
Might like to breathe some time there.
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What a little shit. They're so bloody tough until they meet someone stronger. Oh gods, that was fun. [He claps Rhus on the shoulder.] Nice bit with the accent, by the way. I have a friend who does that. Really sells the intimidation.
[He will not think about Fjord in chains in the back of a cart. He will focus on the good and the good only.]
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'S all 'bout doin' the unexpected. Keeps 'em on their toes, y'know.
Makin' people underestimate you an' then spring it.
[Babbling. He might need to be shut up before he says more shite.]
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Not specifically scaring little shits, but y'know... Making sure things stay honest around here. Keep the chaos to a friendly, life-affirming level.
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