Scene #932:

Owner	Pose
Faruja	"...And may He bless thee, oh valiant guardians, whom keep our sacred city safe and free of the foul touch of Heresy! In Ajora's name, Amen!" Comes the rather exhausted voice of one Inquisitor Faruja Senra. He stands before a relatively small outpost, blessing a small gathering of the local guards. Not quite Templar, these ones, but what passes for the grunts of Church military. Those farther in to the Holy City's lands proper are more heavily guarded, particularly near the ports, but these are far enough away that they don't warrant such attention. And thus, receive fewer blessings. Now on light duty, thanks to last night's little demon problem, the mage leans heavily on his cane as he dismisses the guards. They go back to the small outpost, and Faruja finds a convenient barrel to sit on. Sigh. A tall, bunny-eared woman walks up behind him, and shoots him a concerned look as she shoulders her shotgun. "You know, Faruja, you should really be back home resting. I know that look. Hurt your leg with those crystal-creatures, didn't you?" Frown! The viera folds her arms. Faruja huff's. "That may be, however, duty remains! And these men need mine blessings. They receive far too little attention for playing such an important role in Mullonde's security."
Ineryon	By chance, a dark elf came within visual range of the outpost near one of the main castles of Mullonde. This is assuredly a sight to see, contributions of the fact that his appearance fit the description of the drow who were all but legend in the lore of Ivalice, who few had heard of, and even fewer seen! Gafgarion, being well traveled, had taken sight of Ineryon in recent times, and recognized his race from rumors of the strange creatures who were said to have existed beyond the 'mystic bubble' which guarded them even from the likes of the most potent of Ivalician sorcerers. This was a double-edged sword, seeing that if even one of the inhabitants of the Lodestone Island departed, they could not return to the shores of their homeland.... no entry... only escape. Could any such magic exist in the Multiverse with sufficient magnitude to enable forced admission /back/ into the realm of the drows? Only time would tell, but needless to say, mythologies surrounding the 'alleged' talismans and magic relics said to be crafted by expert warlocks on the isle of the sylvan folk were occasionally the envy of the political powers of Ivalice, who often tried to curry favor with what few strays ventured into the countryside in order to somehow gain passage into the forbidden realm of the fae! Other people who were less power-hungry would probably treat wood-elves and dark-elves as equally as the most meager pauper, or the greatest war-hero.... for some people were authentic, hardcore altruists. Ineryon's skepticism had caused him to deflect most kindnesses offered by others who the drow suspected of harboring ulterior motives, yet, by this point in time, he'd donned a visored helmet, and a long kilt like that of bangaa-templars, so someone might have just as soon assumed he was an indigo-green bangaa, given that Ineryon appeared to be an armored, seven and a half foot creature with some kind of appendage beneath his 'hakama', which would've been presumed to have been a tail! This would have been a correct inference, if one made it.... because it was, in fact, a tail! In addition to this, Ineryon Valos had with him a spear, which was a traditional armament of the bangaa templar.... at the same time, he was not feigning the guise of a religious type, but merely a warrior belonging to the pedigree of job-class that said race often assumed.
Faruja	The pair of Templar spy the incoming 'bangaa' swiftly, and move to harass almost instantly. Bangaa are known to be agents of Archadia, and so, they're about to give quite the verbal beatdown. Ineryon couldn't have chosen a worse disguise. Faruja waves a hand, and the pair nod. They go back to their posts, unwilling to challenge an Inquisitor. Plastering on the warmest, priestly smile he can manage, the rat-priest turns to approach Ineryon. "Faram's blessings mine Child! What brings ye to Mullonde's doorstep?" Offers the rat in a friendly fashion. He crosses his chest, and lets his Blaze Gun hang on his hip in an obvious position. The two Templar glare after Ineryon. Classic 'good cop, bad cop' routine.
Raine Arland	Raine Arland was..... Entirely absent. No, he wasn't here at all. Probably off on another transport job or somesuch. He did advertise himself as that a while ago. And thus, on this day, Mullonde would find itself visited by a rather strange presence. A woman of average height, pale- almost ghostly white skin with an array of blue tattoos spread across her body, and long white hair to match. She wore a short white dress as the only clothes on her person and she didn't carry any armaments or travel packs. Who was this? It was hard to pin down her race. She had elongated ears like an elf, but she also had a long tail that seemed to have a mind of it's own. Her eyes were blue, but the sclera were pitch black. And to anyone who could sense it, she radiated magical power. Not in a way to show off, but more...that it was just there. She also floated lazily through the air, hunched over and looking rather bored. "......" What was she expecting to find here? She couldn't be sure. It was mostly curiosity that drew her to have a look, and not much else. After all, it was not like 'they' would be here either... "Hrm..." Ignoring the stares of passer bys, the unknown woman continued to float along through the city streets, at least until a bit of conversation drew her attention. She glanced over, noticing a....traveler? Warrior? Well whoever he was, he was being accosted by some guards. ...Typical routine for suspicious folk, no? ...Hardly her concern. And also quite boring. Perhaps she should be on her way...
Ineryon	It was true that bangaa were often Archadian, but Ineryon's kind didn't fit into any real major political power /yet/ known to most circles. On the other hand, while it wasn't self-evident he wasn't bangaa, his voice belied the appearance of a reptilian that he might have tried to keep at bay so that he wouldn't be solicited by panhandlers trying to share in whatever 'secret power' his kin hoarded in his homeland. He didn't trust church types as a universal rule, and what made matters worse was that Faruja radiated a minor sort of 'holy/light' aura, which caught Ineryon Valos' attention right from the get-go, what with his sensitivity to that element! His eyelid flinches beneath his mask, and the Valosian giant speaks in manner that is at least mildly more eloquent than most bangaa were renowned for, "What brings myself to the doorstep of this realm is the hand of fate, which was what brought me into this world to begin with, and that which will escort me out, when my time is all but spent." The dark elf shrugs nonchalantly, inwardly wincing at the photonic essence exuding from Faruja, while trying to maintain a calm disposition for the sake of strategy-- keep one's friends close, and keep one's enemies within far more convenient proximity! "....But if one entertains the notion that the compulsions we feel belong to ourselves, then I would be inclined to insert stock in the idea that I came here seeking.... Information... On magic.... The archaic sort..." His attention is then caught by the appearance of a hovering pointy-eared individual with long white hair, and a /tail/! Well, this was promising.... Ineryon had hired Gafgarion to seek out the other Valii, and yet, here was a woman who matched the description of a drow... except she was pale. The 'She-elf' couldn't've been a wood-elf, but she might've been an albino dark elf, since albinos happened at a ratio of about one in ten thousand in any given race. "Hail." He says to Raine-Arland's ally(?) randomly, while bowing.
Inga Freyjasdottir	Yet another figure appears, walking toward the outpost. Cloaked and hooded, carrying a staff in one hand, she moves slowly and with a noticable limp to her gait. Her face is in shadow, her cloak covering her completely. As she draws closer the details of the cloak at least can be seen. It is made of thick storm-grey wool, an arctic fox fur draped around the shoulders. The staff is smooth oak, carved with many runes. A long, white braid hangs to the front of her body and out of the hood. Finally when in speaking distance, the woman reaches up to draw back the hood of her cloak so that her identity can be seen. She's much younger than most would assume, a woman in her twenties. Dark hazel eyes turn a piercing gaze straight toward Faruja. She places both hands on her staff and waits, saying nothing.
Faruja	Call him paranoid, but the sight of an elf-like person, and a bangaa-like, eloquent, yet oddly earth-elemental being has Faruja's smile slipping just slightly. He remembers a recent report, and he acts. There's a nod to his two knightly subordinates, and they're suddenly blocking the path of both the floating magess, as well as Ineryon. Swords aren't drawn, but hands are too close to be friendly. "Ahh, welcome to Mullonde's very doorstep, my Lady! Do forgive me, however, there hath been unfortunate events as of late. I simply must insist upon thine name, origin, and what thine business is as well as where ye intend to stay during thine time here. Nay disrespect intended, however, one cannot be /too/ careful in times of war, hmm? Lord's blessings upon thee!" Smile! That same look is given to Ineryon as he speaks. "How very studious! Any particular field? 'Archaic'...well, our magical traditions are long and storied indeed! Still. Why Mullonde, and not the Akademy of Gariland? Name? Origin?" Comes the rat expectantly. A tap to his ear, and a moment later? A woman teleports in wearing the robes of a scribe. She looks up at the pair expectantly. Inga's appearance, were it but a few weeks earlier, would have led to a swift round of violent oppression. Now? His tail lashes, and his brow twitches. He goes stock still for a moment, then, relaxes with quite some effort. "...Hail, and Lord's blessings." There's a note less cheer in his voice.
Raine Arland	"....?" Oh great. Was one of them addressing her? She wasn't here to get caught up in the problems of the locals. She was just having a look at the city itself. Oh well. Suppose some minor conversation wouldn't hurt. ...Given that the problem with these soldiers was sorted out. The woman in white straightened up her floating posture, turning to give them her full attention. Having her path blocked and her intentions demanded, she found herself frowning just a bit. ...She shouldn't have even looked. Ineryon was given a mildly irritated glance, and then she looked back to the soldiers. "...If I have a name, I suppose it would be Fragarach. ...Where I come from is hardly important. I was just curious, so I came to have a look at the city, is all." As the woman, Fragarach, spoke, she adopted a 'sitting' position in midair, crossing her arms in an unamused fashion. "If you intend to lump me in with the fellow that you are already accosting, then I will have to correct you by stating that we have nothing to do with one another." And now she got dragged in. Her eyelids lowered a tad. Alas, suppose she would look suspicious on other worlds. Maybe she should have gone with Raine on that job after all.
Ineryon	Ineryon coughs when Faruja's men make the confines a touch more cramped than previously, as the Burmecian commences with his very subtle interrogation, demonstrating a hair of apprehension that were annoying. His excuse is 'times of war', which is something the dark elf has heard of before as a justification for people to get nosy, even so, he flips up his visor to expose the face of a dark-skinned humanoid, with a single horn on his head. "Gariland is farther along the path from whence I came. My vector will eventually lead me to it, as well, but for the time being, Mullonde was less distant, so why not kill two birds with one Throw-Stone?" One end of his mouth curls slightly upwards as he makes a weak jest about the training tactics employed by some of the Ivalician squires. This is more condescending than it possibly sounds, by virtue of the fact that dark elves control minerals, and terra-firma, ergo, having to lob stones manually is passe at best, in his culture; this isn't something anyone present would be privy to, in all likelihood. To the minds of those present, it was a good-natured joke designed to show that he had taken the time to research the natives before waltzing into their territory, which wasn't something everyone had the cultured sensibility to do! Briefly, he glances over at Inga, taking note of the fact that she had barely /any/ metal on her-- disadvantage for him if he tried something. Back to Faruja, "Ineryon Valos.... And I come from an island off the coast of Ivalice. But then, the Great Sea is riddled with so many isles, I trust you'd be bored to hear tell of a place you no doubt have scarcely any interest therein?" Fragarach interjected, offering the claim that she had no association with the dark elf, to which he sighed, "...What a pity." Ineryon points at the floating woman, "I concur with her conclusion. If she had a connection with me, she would say so, or she would be lying. If she were lying, she would still not be one of my ilk.... Even if her features are as fine as any drow!" he bows very lightly to Fragarach.
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga nods her head to Faruja in greeting. "Hail, Sir Faruja and gods blessings upon you. I hope that you are well. And how is Ainsley?" she says in greeting. What right has he to look annoyed at her presence when it was he who practically asked her to come? A quick few words are mumbled over her radio as her eyes look to the others there. She takes in the guards, her expression carefully neutral, then the others. She looks a little surprised at the floating woman. It isn't her first time seeing someone casually defying gravity, but such oddities still have the power to surprise her. Ineryon is given a look over, but if she thinks anything particular about him it cannot be read in her expression. The woman speaks, confirming that her and the other don't know each other. Coincidence--heh, or perhaps not. Inga's eyes do not linger overlong on them, or anyone save Faruja. If she has yet another vision for him...well, might be an inconvenient time, but she thinks they may be safe from that for now.
Faruja	The pair of foreigners definitely have Faruja's suspicions, though one does far less for herself to be beyond some scrutiny. "Well met, Lady Fragarach. Inquisitor Faruja Senra, at thine service. The matter is quite important, on the contrary. Well, I shan't be a rude host; art ye of Ivalice, or of another world? Answer that much, and I shall question ye nay more upon the subject. Occupation, my Lady? Assuming 'tis not of 'mage' at any rate." Peeer! Floating women are usually mages, in his experience. Meanwhile, the scribe is dutifully writing away. Ineryon's joke gets a warm laugh from the rat. The tension breaks just slightly. Those Templar don't move, however. "Fair enough, mine good Ser Valos! Welcome to Mullonde! Mine thanks for being so forthcoming. Right then, well, if either of ye art lying, that nay doubt shall come to Light as the Lord wills it. I shall speak it plain: when ye both arrive at Mullonde proper, thine belongings shall be searched, and when ye leave for any contraband or Heretical books. And questioned about thine stay, of course. Please cause nay trouble, preach nay Heresy, nor disrespect those within her walls, and ye shall be welcomed as fellow Children of God." Faruja might not trust the two, but there's no immediate reason to detain them. Instead, he'll simply have them watched discretely. "Laywoman Inga, I am well as can be expected." His cooly polite tone warms. "She is most well! And our new abode most comfortable!" A meaningful nod, and that old grudging respect surfaces. No, he hasn't forgotten favors owed. The guards show little regard for Inga, upon realizing that the Inquisitor knows her. Fringe benefits of /not/ getting harassed!
Raine Arland	Drow? ...What in the world was a Drow? ...Ah, perhaps it was one of the races of this particular world. In fact she would hazard a guess and assume that he was one himself. Hrm. ...They did share a few characteristics. But in the end, they weren't the same. She shook her head at Ineryon's bow, not impressed at the compliment much at all. "Quite a flatterer." Nothing more was said. She glanced towards Faruja after that. "No, I am not a native of this world, if that is what you wish to know." She didn't go into any more detail than that. Inga was given a moment's studious glance then. Seemed these people knew her. How convenient. That meant she was spared any interrogation. After a moment of silence, Fragarach tilted her head a bit, blackened eyes peering upon the templar. "...May I...go now?" She certainly had no reason to stay around here any longer. Mingling with the locals was the last thing on her list. She was just interested in observation.
Ineryon	When the dark elf overhears the title 'Sir' being attached to Faruja, he makes a silent note to keep wary of the Nezumi; he could tell the rodent had prestige of some type even before, since Faru was giving orders to the lowly grunts, however, he might've been much farther up the food-chain than Ineryon originally suspected, despite being out here at the gatehouse. Then again... even the highest of bishops had to use castle entrances to get in or out of the place, unless they had the power of teleportation, a thing traditionally restricted to chronomancers? After Faru gives a mousey snicker, Ineryon closes his visor, since he'd deliberately opened it to foster goodwill with the Nezumi, since hiding one's face was hardly courteous, especially when the one hurling questions had made it plain as day that they were uncomfortable; this Valos is not as rude as some of their kind, in defiance of the fact that most folks had never had the chance to meet any other in recent times. Craning his neck to the side, the drow indicates Fragarach while making a suggestion to Faruja, "Hmm.. Might you consider 'forgiveness' to be within the arsenal of the 'chosen'? What I mean to say is, your flock has shepherd and lamb alike, ergo, where the sheep strays, the shepherd needn't become too flustered at the unintentional disinclination towards folk who find it hard to cooperate; it could be due to having a hardened heart, stemming from a harsh climate under which they were barely able to thrive?" He's trying to take some of the heat off of Fragarach, if he can, by reminding Faruja to be patient, even with those who rebel a teensy bit. Peering at the woman with the tapered ears like his own, Ineryon commented, "You know, Miss Fragarach... I am going to be exploring the interior of this city for the first time, as well-- perhaps it might be worthwhile for us to team up to find whatever allure this city holds for you. Admittedly, your knack towards giving the gravitational tow of this plane a counter-cultural riposte has me intrigued. I do not know if you overheard me a few moments prior, alas... I am seeking magic, and you seem to be laden with it!"
Inga Freyjasdottir	That's all well and good, for Inga doesn't respond well to being harassed. If her name must be recorded, she gives it to the scribe. "Inga Freyasdottir, of Uppsala," she informs. Faruja's rules are taken in. Inga even manages not to roll her eyes, though her hands tighten upon her staff. What is she doing here? Looking to get burned at the stake or hung? This place is obviously very tightly controlled. Searched!? She hopes Faruja has thought about this, for the sorts of things she carries will likely condemn her. Her lips thin anxiously. Perhaps she should just turn around and walk the other way again, despite how much her muscles are now aching from the walk. A steadying breath, and Inga moves further toward Faruja. "I am quite glad to hear it. You must give her my regards--now, might we move inside? It has been a long walk and I am tired," she says, her limp obvious. Who's going to deny a cripple a chance to sit? She extends her free arm toward Faruja as if expecting it natural that he should take it and escort her.
Faruja	Faruja looks the woman up and down, then finally sighs. "...Fine. Go with the Lord, mine Child. May thine stay in Mullonde be pleasant, and without trouble." That last bit is said pointedly. The two Templar will let her pass. Valos gets a nod. "Of course, of course. But paranoia is a most common coin these days. Ye shall find such all over Ivalice, though mayhaps with less...attention to detail." A shrugs amidst his warning. Faruja hasn't forgotten Inga...nor the cargo he's pretty sure she's carrying. When she leaves the city? The person in charge of checking baggage will be conveniently stepping out to take a smoke, before returning before the next can leave. The rat's thought this through. Faruja smiles at the woman. "Of course. Come, all of ye, given our guest we shall skip the usual...protocol. I hath matters of mine own to attend to for now. Laywoman Inga? Meet me at the agreed upon place in three hours time? Until then, enjoy the city." Then? The rat bows after waving to his minions. He starts walking away to a different building. The others will be escorted to a small building, with a pair of mages within. The two robed personages will ask the three to step between them. A spell, and... It's a mass teleport spell. Rather than the ferry to Mullonde, they'll get the quick-if mildly disorienting- way in. They'll arrive at a similar building and ushered out. Welcome to Mullonde, where even at this small commercial district of the massive city, prayers can be heard as a constant undertone, and one cannot help but stumble upon some small shrine or church every block.
Raine Arland	"........" Ineryon was given a highly unimpressed look for his appeal. If she didn't know better, she would almost make assumption that this fool was attempting to hit on her. But surely that could not be the case. No, of course not. She was the last person that anyone, or anything would ever want to 'hit on', to use the mortal being's vernacular. "....Believe that I will be just fine searching for the allure of this city on my own. Thank you very much." His mention of researching magic and the like was selectively ignored. Faruja is given a bit of a smile for his resigned cooperation. "You have my thanks, Inquisitor." She'd managed to get by without having to give away too much information. A success. ...Not like she planned on causing trouble. She really was just here to look about. Then she'd be on her way again. The teleport spell wasn't necessary, and after it was over, Fragarach had to take a moment to regain her bearings. Floating out of the building and into the city proper. "......" Silently, the woman in white took a cursory glance about. Where shall she go first? What the other two were going to do didn't seem to strike her interest any.
Ineryon	Perhaps trying to earn a few points, or perchance just being earnestly concerned for someone else(so long as it's at no cost to himself), Ineryon squints when Inga finally confesses that she's tired. He wasn't going to make himself liable by insulting the woman initially by offering help when it was not asked of him, although, upon hearing the woman verbally gripe about her anguish, he feels it appropriate to interlope, "Hmmm... Is the bone permanently mangled? I have a talent for rearranging objects comprised of various minerals, which would include calcium-- this is an element found in many humanoid, skeletal frames." Transcending his tendency to be unobtrusive, he manages to bequeath at least that degree of acknowledgement towards Inga, since by this juncture, it wouldn't be construed as insulting, or demeaning of her capability to get about. Another good phrase that sprung to his mind was 'the squeaky wheel gets the grease'! Of course, the truth is that he's trying to appear charitable to stay on Faru's good side, since this drow was not eager to start trouble unless there was necessity for it. Soon, the teleport spell transports he and the other two into a district abundant with commerce, presumably so that they can spend their money to help with Mullonde's flourishing economy. Having been refused the privilege to escort Fragarach, Ineryon decided to give the woman her privacy until they ended up crossing paths in the future, whereupon he'd have the chance to ask about her welfare, and general topics that were safe for conversation, even so, in the meanwhile, he was standing outside the building beside Inga, wondering where to peruse the best arcane ware available on the market.... or maybe even some dusty scolls/maps that could lead to where treasures were presumed to've been lost. "....And the quest is afoot....", the drow says to himself, out loud.
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga nods to Faruja, a half smile appearing. He has something arranged, she is sure. For now that she's acknowledged that they know each other, her being found suspicious would only shine that light on him as well. "I will do so, thank you," she replies to Faruja. They are lead inside and to a building, at which point there is an extremely unnerving and disorienting journey. Inga grunts, grumbling as she regains her sense of equilibrium. She bids Faruja goodbye and moves out of the building to the street. The other woman decides to take off on her own, which leaves her to address Ineryon's offer. Inga cannot help but sigh, shaking her head. Mangled? What a nice word. A lady does so like being described as 'mangled'. "No, no that is not necessary, or possible--or wanted, really. This is the form the gods have seen fit to give me and it has served me well enough," she informs him. Was that a strange way of saying he knew how to set a bone? Tch. "I have healing skills myself," she adds. Laywoman, tch. There's a good part of her that wants to strangle Faruja. She imagines the feeling is mutual though. Inga sighs, looking down the street. The smell of food wafts, and she decides to follow it. "Well, I will seek somewhere to rest and have a meal I think," she says to Ineryon, thinking they will likely part ways here, though she doesn't dismiss him, in case his 'quest' is similar. She has a bit of time to waste before meeting again with Faruja.
Ineryon	Ineryon Valos isn't really bothered by the normally dizzying effects of the teleportation spell, mainly in part because of his aegis against external influences that have a propensity towards impacting one's psyche-- it was simply that his stalwart mind could repel these types of adverse effects almost automatically. This was not to say he was protected against absolutely every single medium of magical mayhem that came his way, but impacting his mental, or psychological state was like trying to drill a hole into the water; then again, it wasn't as though Faruja's intent was to cause him harm. Needless to say, the others might have complaints about the mouse's method of ferrying folks into the township if they ever were to give a review of their experience whilst visiting Mullonde! As for describing Inga as 'mangled', since she doesn't see fit to lecture him on her preferred wording, he has no real opportunity to mend his ways, even if it's entirely just as plausible that he'd be liable to comply or get into an argument about ethnocentrism and the connotations associated with specific words as far as their negative charge in this culture versus that one... it may not have yet become obvious to anyone in current, but the societal norms of the Valii were almost desolate of emotional or sentimental undertones. Ineryon's society was totally unforgiving, and it was no mystery to the omniscient one as to why this dark elf might have been ejected from his homeland, if one took into account that he took the time to at least /try/ to be gentle and sugar-coat things. Apparently, he managed to assuage Faruja when Fragarach was behaving dissenting, but he failed at appeasing Inga; life would always be about trial and error! Simply bowing politely to Inga, trying to be cordial, if not civil at the bare minimum, he remarks, "I appreciate that you did not act forthcoming about proactively discouraging me from accompanying you, while on the contrary, you did make mention of your plans publicly such that I could have requested to accompany, when in fact, you could have just as easily engaged in more aloof mannerism by merely embarking in utter quiescence." Ineryon nods, "A gracious offer it is that you have implied, but I think I must refuse, for Entity Faruja Senra has stated that he houses a distaste towards heresy. With my inability to read the minds of others, and with their rationalization skills unknown to me at present, I can not account for how well I might improvise should I speak words they object to, which could guide me into terrain I'd best avoid, which ignorance cannot be used as a justification to avail me, since I do fear this is quite the.... strictest of regimes, this Mullonde?" The dark elf bows, "Go as you must, and you have my appreciation for your offer, I reiterate!" And that is where the adventure would conclude, for the moment....
Ineryon	.....All in all, Ineryon planned to get his business done, and Get Out Of Dodge. He didn't have time, or desire to lengthen his stay!