(not so) Veiled Venom

Log Info

• Title: (not so) Veiled Venom
• Emitter: Jinks
• Characters: Nemori, Venom
• Place: Colosseum District
• Time: July 4nd, 2022
• Summary: Nemori comes upon a familiar troublemaker handing out presents to neighborhood urchins. She means to deliver fair warning but gets a earful of sass for her efforts. Venom observes from a safe distance. A wargolem in an awful state joins Tamzin and the pair retreats.

The night sky is a jigsaw of velvet black and deep, dark blue pinpricked with impossibly-bright stars. Alexandria below is sultry and the streets are slick with dew. Even at this later our the western corners of the city are busy-- busier than usual. The refugees have increased the local population significantly and the workday for many trades has stretched by necessity.

Irshya and her crew have their hands full if the sounds spilling out of the Tarrace are any indication and von Ironbrew's is even rowdier. There's a roar from the towering Colosseum alight with tall-burning braziers as the crowd revels in the wake of some put-on combat or feat.

Closer and smaller (much, much smaller-- an ant to an ancient wyrm) a handful of children cheer, clap, struggle, reach, and champ with a chorus of 'ooh's and 'me, me, me's! Their focus is a unremarkable and rail-thin human woman with a roughshod and uneven haircut handing out waxpaper-wrapped bundles and rope-wrapped clay bottles.

"Bird lime now for yer ter inland flow 'ome, ickle things." She shoo's, less her last gifting and standing straight. Her button nose, boyish build, and freckles are in direct conflict with her rakish swagger as she dashes a hand through the air. "Remember ter say 'thank yer' ter Mama." She shouts as they scurry off in every direction clutching their prizes.

"I wonder what manner of mischief you are getting yourself and them into tonight," Nemori wonders aloud, approaching the grown street rat after witnessing the small exchange between her and the children. It's just circumstance that has her here, at this time. Certainly she hasn't been following Tamzin. No doubt the young woman could easily lose a foreigner like Nemori had she a mind to.

It comes to pass that a somewhat lengthy absence has abated.

A shrouded figure emerges from one of the side alleys to the thoroughfare proper. It's a curious change in the local environs for the expanded populace, and the being scans the environs to get a revised feel for the place.

Dispersing children chased with a commandment couched in a thick dialect (probably) draw it's eyes (wherever they are), though it seems another soul is taking a more direct scrutiny while Venom, in turn, hangs back to make like a hole in the gloom between mana lamps.

"'s just cinnamon-bread and berry juice," Tamzin challenges Nemori with a familiar look of ignorance and innocence. "Are yer allus so suspicious, then, mate? Maybe it's because yor up ter sumfink..." she comments, narrowing her eyes. Then-- quite suddenly-- something is flying in a lazy arc through the arc to the mul'niessa. Lazy enough that it gives the elf enough time to sort out that the young woman had pulled one last of the small jugs from under her jacket and tossed it over.

"Wot were that Coo-birdy said? Yor sus." She grins and shakes her head.

"'ave a cuff link from Mama; fanks fer yer work." Tamzin adds with a nod, tugging on the sides of her jacket and turning a hip. She clearly wants Nemori to notice it: a new jacket. Leather like the old one but in much better shape and better-fitting. It's not missing buttons, either, and the lining isn't tattered or patched.

Venom goes unnoticed (or unacknowledged) for now.

Nemori doesn't have street hardened reflexes, nor the experience of a hundred adventures. But she is an elf, and that innate grace serves her today as she manages to catch the small jug, rather than step out of the way, before it hits her. It did not look effortless. Her eyes narrow briefly, her lips tighen.. but then the expression wipes free and is replaced by a smile as she tip the jug towards the young woman, then folds her arms. "Your gratitude means so much to me," she tells the young woman. "I found myself wondering after that search for evidence turned into a fight with the undead.. what would our friend Executor have said about the money you took from the shop?" The talk thickens.

The exchange is allowed to proceed with little interaction for their part. The veiled figure turns her attention toward the Mul'niessa in time for the impromptu game of catch, and her head lists a little bit at the retort.

Then, she starts scanning the crowds and high places.

"Weren't me," Tamzin shrugs at Nemori, disappointed that her jacket didn't earn comment. She shoves her hands away into its pockets and waves her hands out, exposing the inside of the accessory in the process. "I 'eard the bleedin' ruckus from below... and the lizard 'ave a looked sick." She makes a face.

"Yer came out right, right, ffough." Her head tilts and she scans Nemori up and down and wonders of her: "... woss an xecutor?'"

"Any road... Mama got 'er evvy-dence and ev'ry geezer is 'appy. 'cept that ole magicky-man. 'e's in a bucket and pail for a long, long time."

"Really." Nemori says flatly, unconvinced. "So the missing till was not in that sack you were so desperately hoping no one would pay attention to." Arms still folded, she starts tapping the held jug against her side. "That is too bad. I imagine there was more than enough money in there to buy oneself a new jacket, perhaps a little bit extra..." she trails off, shrugging. "But of course. It was not you."

Her scowl returns when she is reminded of Eztli's poor state after the fight. "She will be fine. They will all be fine. I do not appreciate being used or played for a fool. Do not do it again. Else I might tell the the law abiding members of the group to search you next time."

Venom doesn't see anything untoward in the greater environs, and thus their attention is turned back toward the curious pair discussing some sort of tilted business.

It half sounds like Guild business, really, and some sort of foolery ran afoot. The scrawny one bears note, just in case, and she'll have to speak to someone about this Mul'niessa. A lot of those showing up of late, there could be more to it.

"Mama takes care." The young woman tosses back at Nemori, rolling her eyes. "Yer would nick food from wee-ickle kids ter make yorself jellied eel-- ter 'feel' better? Yor not in yor dandy castle anymore, yor majesty."

"It weren't yor brass; put the mockers on bein' so serious. Cuff link yor juice.

"Let's inland flow, 'eady," Tamzin hollers, summoning the saddest excuse for a construct anyone has every scene. The creature shambles away from the shadowed alley of the Tarrace, half-dragging one sabaton foot at an angle. It's all patina, brass, and battered tin. Most notably, it lacks a complete head or helm; a gorget/neck curves up into the lower/back-half of a skull and an eerie blue-white orb swims in the cup of it. It looks to collapse in on itself and clatter to the ground at any moment on the way to meeting with Tamzin.

The human woman pats it on the back, a familiar gesture of affection that seems odd in this context. Then she stops and half-turns.

"Git's smilin' now. Do yer want ter lock 'im up again?" Her lopsided smirk is a challenge for Nemori as she turns and starts making her way south.

"You presume I care one whit at all for your whelps or your goblin friend, or who the owner of that money was?" Nemori asks as the construct shambles out and over to Tamzin, sounding.. insulted. And perhaps stun. "Do not do it again." She remains where she is, watching the human scoundrel walk away with her mechanical companion in tow, turning away only after the pair have disappeared.