Scene #420: The problems with Immortality lite.

Owner	Pose
Marrik	The Goblin Market: Think of every Baazar, Street fair, and Carnival. Now turn it into a city the size of a small country that got dumped at the edge of the practically bottomless pit that was The Maw. Those that call this place ho!e vary between trolls, goblins, drow, and all manner of creature that defy description. The unification of this place seemed to only impacted by the fact it had more varied wares to deal in.
Marrik	In this market was one 'spirit medium' Marrik Broom. In his store were a pair of heavily robed men that, if you got a look at their faces, were clearly dead. Both of these dead men stood in front of a thin figure in black robes making arcane gestures weaving mana around and through both undead. Black candles were lit, a circle of salt had been lain out on the floor encircling the three, but even with that barrier holding the spiritual energies in place it would be clear from the outside, especially those sensetive to dark magics or simply how the spirits were all avoiding this building.
Marrik	Faruja's booted foot broke Marrik's door open just as he was writing a gliff in blood n the second Zombie's head. At Faruja's drawn gun Marrik pushed between the two fairly large zombies, pulling an old zobiet era pistol from his robes to aim at the imquisitor. "WHAT RIGHT HAVE YOU HERE?!" He bellowed as the two zombies tensed, reaching to their hips for weapons that weren't there. Without weapons they snarled at the inquisitor and made ready to rush forward to rip the threat to pieces.
Marrik	"Now wait just one damned minute!" One of the zombies growled as it took a single careful step towards Faruja. "We've been around decades before this pup here," It poined to Marrik," ever thought about pickin up a spell book, so stop talking like we're bloody furniture." Marrik dry swallowed as the other zombie took a similar step forward. "Now fix the door mouse 'affore we go fixin your face. Jumping in brainless is going to get you killed one of these days." Marrik grumbled something to the effect of 'Not Helpimg At All Guys.' Shouldnt he, you know, be orderimg these dead meatsacks around?
Faruja	The zombies speak. /That's/ new. Faruja's gun wavers just a moment. He looks from zombies, to Marrik, to zombies. "....Why in the abyss art the zombies speaking?" Glaaaaare! Faruja peers at Marrik. "CEASE THINE PRATTLING, FALLEN SOULS! I SHALL ATTEND TO THEE SOON ENOUGH! AND I ONLY FIX THE DOORS OF NON-HERETICS, KNAVES!" "Explain thyself, witch!" Orders the rat as he refuses to back down. He /does/ make a punt to the door to try to prop it back up.
Marrik	"You bust in my door possibly interrupt a ritule to stabilize these two so they don't try eating people," Marrik's voice rose even as his gun hand trembled, "And aim a gun at me and demand what /I/ am doing?" He was tryin his best to not be angry. This paladin hadn't shot at him yet, which was better than every other encounter he's had. Silently he ordered the zombies back behind him. "I say again. What right have you?" His voice wavered.
Faruja	Wait... Faruja takes another look around. The Burmecian pauses. "....Mean ye to say ye art some kind of Exorcist?" Slowly, the gun lowers. He warily peers at the trio, the Burmecian utterly ignoring the question. Hmph! Mutter mutter heathens. "Prove to me ye art being truthful, and I shall fix thine door." Finally ends the rat. The smell of dark magic permeates the room...but could it be from the zombies tainting the air? His righteous indignation slowly trots back to its cage.
Marrik	"How?" Marrik slowly lowered his pistol when your gun lowered. "What proof can I give that you would accept? Exorcism and spiritual awareness has a heavy overlap."
Faruja	Faruja smiles, and raises his hands. "Finish the ritual. If 'tis to mine satisfaction? We shall hath nay quarrel. Best to show intention through action." He waves towards the pair of zombies. "Agreed?" Comes the rat, licking his muzzle and watching intently. Somehow, he can't help but be reminded of Harry Dresden. Perhaps, just perhaps, the man is telling the truth.
Marrik	"Works for me." Marrik gestured over to the stool beside the counter, "Over there please Sir Knight." Deep breath. The zombies walked back to the middle of the circle as Marrik was silently thanking the powers that be that Faruja hadn't broken it and that the ritule itself was forgiving enough to allow for interruptions.. Usually they were from the posessed, but whatever, it was still workable. As he renewed the ritual Faruja could feel whispers of power pressin against the circle, or possibly smell the corruption coming from what was being done? The zombies eyes flicked this way then that, their eyes surprisingly clear for being corpses. More blood glyphs were drawm, taken from a pinprick at Marrik's left thumb. Then both zombies relaxed when Marrik rubbed out part of the circle and waved as each walked towards the door in an almost normal gait. One looked back at Faruja and shook it's head sadly before walking out, then reaching back to prop Marrik's door upright.
Faruja	Faruja sits in a convenient chair, the rat watching closely. Power. Corruption. And then their eyes shine. By the time it's all done? The zombies seem /SANE/. Anywhere else, and Faruja would be trying to get this man hired. But blood runes and blood magic have him trembling. Fury, zealous anger...only the fact that there's so much darkness in this deep place, full of far worse than Marrik, that gives him any doubt. "...I know not whether 'tis the power of this place..." He motions towards the maw itself. "Or thine own magicks. I smell necromancy." Faruja's voice all but spits out venomously. "Still. I cannot deny thine work's effectiveness." A deep sigh. "Fine. I owe ye a door. However, I shall watch ye, 'Exorcist'." A glare, and the rat's already working on the door. He's a man of his word.
Marrik	"Try the fritters. Two rows ahead and to the left, Iksar named Jak runs the place." Marrik's voice was still shakey as he went to get a broom. Faruja smelled his own magic, and if he pointed that out Faruja would go murder him without hesitation. "And if those two dust dealers are at the corner, lst them know I /will/ make sure everyone they ever hurt will be seeing them. Nightly."
Faruja	"I /do/ like the cuisine of this place." States the rat, as he uses a bit of gravity magic to screw back in the hinges of the door. A few knocks with his cane? And the door's mostly okay. He steps back. Frown. A smirk. "Ahh. Illegal substances. Happily!" Faruja pauses. "Ahh. Where art mine manners. Inquisitor Faruja Senra of the Holy Church of Saint Ajora Glabados. And ye art?"
Marrik	"Technically not illegal since the local lord doesn't really care." Marrik offered Faruja a hand, forgetting himself in the moment, Faruja /had/ to be able to sense marrik's own magic at physical contact. "Marrik broom. Medium, shop owner, and occasional kicker over of ant hills that need kicking." Firm caloused hands and sun tanned skin. Apparently a man used to working.
Faruja	Faruja seems almost friendly, his previous mood vanishing before he takes the man's hand in a firm shake. At least the rodent's learned that much of human customs by now! The electric crackle of dark magic flows throught he rat, the slightest shiver running through him. His fur stands on end. That single red eye of the rat's narrows slightly. The nezumi considers his options. He could kill the man, and leave him to rot. But, that would no doubt upset the local rulers. No, for something like this, he needs backup. And evidence. The Burmecian's calmer mind takes over. Remembering Ainsley's own words, he lets go. "A pleasure Ser Broom. I shouldst like to meet ye again. Mayhaps in Mullonde. I shall show ye the city! 'Tis lovely this time of the year!" Smile! The lion offering the lamb into the den.
Marrik	If that last meant anything Marrik didn't know. Instead he gestured around, "Might not be much, but I like my store. Feel free to look about." Then he chuckled soft, "Union inspector's due in the next few days for removal of a few things that I'd kept in holdimg til I could find somewhere to dump," He seemed amused at the rat, having taken the suspicious look for genersl sourness at trying to be polite. "Don't feel bad. I get.... problems whenever zombies are about. Too many people confuse communing with spirits and raising the dead. I know the theory, but it's.... not somethijg I'd do lightly, or if at all if I could help."
Faruja	Faruja doesn't yet look around; no, he's too interested in the proprietor. Besides, he has a problem. Both hands go up apologetically. "...Unfortunately, 'twas meant to only be a short excursion into this city." Nope, the rat's pretty broke right now. "Ward thine home better. Magick that smells of fouler arts makes certain persons...'trigger happy' as ye humans say." Pause. "Ye art with the Union?" Questions the rat in surprise.
Marrik	"Actually yes," Marrik knew it was a risk in admitting such, but it was likely you werem't a confederate. "They get a discount and everything." He took a breath and exhaled slow, "Best wards I could make that aren't going to hurt people come knocking. Gof a lot to learn, but I'll keep that in mind."
Faruja	/Sigh/. Oh, why did he have to ask? "I am the Church's diplomat towards the Union. If ye needst mine services, merely ask." /That/ might explain his relative restraint. Diplomats don't get hired much if they kill everyone. The Burmecian nods. "Visit Njorun, there art plenty of tomes upon the subject. Also, speak with Ser Harry Dresden. He is a skilled mage." The man would kill him for calling him a mage. Hopefully he'll not pay for it later.
Marrik	"A pleasure Sir Knight," Marrik smiled warmly, "Though if you have time I would like to talk a few thimgs over," Beat, "Without clutterimg the radio up. Gods know the row that'd start. Officers know, but i just.. you know it's what magic I have, use it how I can." He sounded awquard. This wasn't usualy how this went. "I'l answer what questions I can, so ask."
Faruja	Faruja sits, pondering. "Well. I suppose this shall make things easier. Fine." "Let us start simply enough. Art ye a necromancer?" Asks the rat rather bluntly. He gives Marrik a moment, then continues. "And how didst ye come upon thine powers? Ye art nay hedge mage. And for the Union to allow a necromancer into its ranks...highly, highly unusual." He might be scowling, but at least he's not shooting Marrik yet.
Marrik	Marrik held up a hand before moving to flip an out to lunch sign and locking the door. "I have told this to the recruiter after they found me in the middle of a now dead coven they had been sent to investigate the disappearing of." As he walked he slid the black robes off to show a more mundane red cotten tunic. "Hate this fresking thing." Wave of his fingers and whispers of power caused the black candles to go out. "But yess, I am a necromancer, trained by a cult that hoped to murder the world to bring back my grandfather and use my body as the vessel so he coukd try doing the usual creepy things such groups want, Now that he was talking he dare not stop, not if he dare finish. "They suckered me in when I moved from the farm, started training me, then I made friends there. Nice folk with some fringe notions that had them marginalized. Then... Then I talked to a ghost I was supposed to banish. He reminded me why I wanted magic, and killing wasn't it. So I came clean to a few people and helped destroy the cult, or at least the portion near me."
Faruja	Faruja listens quietly, the rodent slowly dawning horror upon his muzzle. It takes him a good five minutes before he can speak. "...Then, ye were to be a sacrifice. Faram preserve the innocent!" He's not exactly blessing the necromancer. But at least he's not shooting. The inner conflict of morals, circumstance, and zealotry plays out on his face. The Burmecian sucks in several breaths. He lets them out, body looking exhausted. "...I...cannot cast judgement upon ye. NOt...not now." He mutters. Clearly, the rat's troubled.
Marrik	"My hands are not clean," Marrik said. "I am no saint by any stretch Sir Knight, but I am doing what I can to make up for things." He gave a sympathetic smile and went to the back room for a brief moment before coming back with tea. "Tea?" It smelled fresh even if the pitcher and cups didnt mstch snd looked like dented metal. "Any other questions?"
Faruja	An ear twitches. Faruja suddenly sneezes. Weird. "Well. If ye art in the Union, that...complicates matters." he can't, technically, shoot the man. His teeth grit briefly. Being deprived of his authority is never something he likes. Still, he can at least see why the man was allowed to enter. "Please." Tea always helps. By Faram, he needs it. "I cannot condone what ye do, of course, no matter thine intentions. /However/. Given the circumstances, I /do/ feel a certain amount of sympathy for a man trying to make things right. Fine. I shan't interfere with ye. Nay more questions. Only a warning. Slip up? And I shall toss ye into yonder pit without hesitation. Power, of any sort, may corrupt. The greater the power, the greater the intoxication that doth come with its imbibing." He may be saying that last bit to the room at large. It's a good reminder for himself as well.
Marrik	"I fall, and it is a power that by my training if not it's nature corrupts, I will want you to be there." Somethijg Marrik had made peace with since he realized he was going to have a life expectancy. He poured tea and offered cheese and flatbread. "That said, no sense crying and whining doom. We get sun and joy and it'd be poor to not enjoy these things."
Faruja	"And so I shall be." Promises the rat, touching his cross and bowing. Heretic or not, he /likes/ the man. "Quite so." He takes all three, sipping and muching politely. After he's finished? He rises. "If ye will excuse me, Ser Broom. I fear I cannot tarry any longer, duty calls. Let us meet again." A bow, and distinct lack of blessing, and the rat heads off. /After/ checking the door.