I Prefer to be Called "Evil Genius"

15th of Ashan 724

The shallow bay Egilrun is situated upon is used, these trials, for crafts and crafting. From boatmakers to weaponsmiths, glassblowers to metalworkers, the sound of hammers and saws can be heard almost every break of the trial, with crews working in shifts to produce the beautiful craftsmanship which they might, one trial, become famous for.

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I Prefer to be Called "Evil Genius"

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It was good to be walking in the sun again. Kasoria thought that for the first few trials whenever Cylus ended. Fifty arcs walking the world, and the relief was still palpable.

Especially when it was somewhere new, and bustling.

Not just because it was a fresh feast for the eyes (he'd always had a curious mind for the foreign and exotic, despite his homeland pride). People and races were everywhere now, crowding the streets, an entire season of dark and gloom scraping by and endured rather than enjoyed now gone. They had thirty trials to make up for, and they seemed to flood from their homes to compensate. The port town was alive and roaring with yelling, jabbering, laughing, negotiating, instructing, begging, seducing, inventive voices. Along with all the usual mechanical and animal furor that infested such bastions, as trade in all its forms was done and, in the town of Egilrun, the fruit of forests and dirt was sculpted into glorious gliding constructs.

"My word... that will be something fine, what?"

Fagan Manclin's wonder was infectious, but Kasoria had been inoculated by time. He looked over the skeletal structure a dozen builders were crawling over, beached now but set to be easily slid into the water. Wooden ribs curled up from a central spine, meat and flesh of decks and flanks being nailed into place. A dark-skinned woman jabbered orders in several languages, gesticulating wildly. On the dock, a man somehow holding three sets of papers seemed to be orchestrating the anarchy, frowning or nodding alternately as progress was slowly made.

This was how ships were born. Piece by piece. Plank by plank. Nail by nail.

"Aye. Big'un."

Manclin rolled his eyes and gave an aristocratic tut. Kasoria quirked a black eyebrow as the diplomat shook his head, continuing on down the street, knowing his bodyguard would keep pace.

"Don't tell me a mere season in the dark had numbed you to such industry, Kas? We are a land of craftsman! A city of miners and engineers! Molding such a vessel from the very ground itself would be just the sort of-"

"m'jus' no judge a' ships, is all. I see a big-un, I sez so." He looked the ship over again, pursing his lips as he strove for an additional comment. "Gonna be a hauler, I fink. Low inna water, ken? Built fer deep water. Not some riverboat."

Manclin nodded slowly, surprised and satisfied in equal measure. It was so damnably difficult getting Kasoria invested in anything other than how best filet someone wandering too close to him and his entourage. The rest of The Band were... well, not he same, actually. Miki was quite companiable. Vaul was a surprisingly good game player. Belial was a social creature through and through and Raand? Hmm. Well. Kasoria and he were cut from the same cloth, it seemed. Sometimes he was surprised they weren't related. Seeing them act and speak and almost think on concert could feel a man into thinking otherwise.

"I dare say you're right, Kas... ah, and look who also seems impressed."

Kasoria did just that. So did the hulking one-eye and the shaven-headed black who'd accompanied them to the docks. Kasoria had chosen his men well: nothing too intimidating (leaving Vaul had been a good call), but enough to warn off chancers and cutpurses. The children didn't qualify. He was sure he'd seen at least one of them before. Maybe relaying the invitation to this mysterious "inventor", that the Etzori delegation wished to... socialize with him.

Not negotiate. Not parlay. Not treat with. Keeping it neutral, ain't you? Well... don't assume he'll fall for it.

The short, hairy figure did something. A finger like a Blackguard truncheon tapped Kasoria's shoulder, and he turned to find Mikiros' hands making quick symbols in the air. After a moment he snorted softly and turned back to their new friend.

"Aye. Dat ferret is wavin' at us, Miki."
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Winston
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I Prefer to be Called "Evil Genius"

Were you hoping for a discreet meeting? Sorry
Totrial felt somehow official. He could not really say why. A meeting with a new contact from a far away land? Return to the docks where his ships had been born? Or just perhaps being in Egilrun, alive, after possibly the world's most influential Tea Party ever. Whatever it was, being here always reminded him of his first official job in Idalos outside of Patsie's old farm... Whatever it was, he liked it and embraced the trial with aplomb and a bright smile.

He remembered the smell of the shipwright well. Sea salt, seaweed and wood oils, all accompanied by the backdrop of a hundred tippy-tappy and bang-bang sounds as the ship went together. Looks like they had a season's work ahead of them yet, but he knew this shipwright and they were the best there was, so it would suprise him none to find them working on something else by mid Ashen.

"Who are we meeting?"
Asked
Joe
, conversationally, as the disembodied head of his Songforged Diri floated along beside him, clear as trail to anyone looking on.

"Me don't really know."


"What do they want?"


"Me nat share."


"OK, where are they from? Tell me you know that much?"
Insisted the spirit with some mild exasperation as the
locomotive luggage
on which he travelled trickled along the street like some centripetal suitcase.

Winston wa a lot to take in... He knew this and he was OK with it. When meeting people you knew you were meeting, there were some advantaged to being unforgettable, particularly if you appeared at a glance to be small and vulnerable, which to most, he did.

Totrial, as if the floating head and walking luggage were not enough, he was wearing his new dapper suit, which was today
a bright emerald green colour
.

"What DO you know about them?"
Peristsed his companion.

"Dem fram some place far aware and want some kinda work done... Me tink. Some place called Etzos. Eeeeee... Exciting, noh?"


"Yup. No. Nothing wrong with Sweetwine in my opinion. You should just stay there."


The ferret chuckled as they continued along the street,
seemingly ignored by everyone around them with the exception of the occasional wave and the wide birth Chest inspired in the average townsperson
.

"Oh! There they are! I think that's them!"
He began to wave frantically.
"Oh, Joe! I think one of them speaks sign!"


"Ahoooooy there!"
He yelled as he signed the same in Common Sign, having assumed that was what the gestures were a few moments before.

"You know, it could have been a negotiation advantage for them to not know you knew that..."
Prompted
Felicity
from the back of his mind.
"Dat's yuh jab."
He replied telepathically with a secret internal grin of innocence.

As he got closer, it became clearer that what appeared to be a black hood of some kind was in fact a smoke, or fog that hung around the man's head and he had colour in his veins and...
"Wow. Yuh eyes are tooootally black. Me neva seen dis befar. Hi! Me es Winstan. Dis et Joe and dis es
Chest
."


He waited a moment for his new acquaintances to respond.
"How are yuh doing? Et's jolly nice tuh meetcha! Me 'ave been doin' a littal readin about Etzos, but me didn't find out moch about et, hehe. Perhaps yuh wud like tuh tell me all about what yuh need solvin' ova a cup af someting nice an warm?"
He asked with his most reassuring grin.

With that, the ferret leapt up as the lid to the large chest opened, revealing a semi-bottomless opening, a portal of some kind, that lead to something of a shop-front with all sorts of braca-brack within and the alluring aroma of hot baked goods the likes of which would normally only be encountered at the height of high society culinary establishments. The smells were without any shame whatsoever, all part of the plan to entice them in. There were very few people willing to simply leap into Chest's depths, despite there being no danger at all. It was an understandable position to hold, quite frankly and if they declined, then he would go along with them in whatever arrangement or meeting area they preferred. But if the group consented to follow him in for tea, then tea they would have, in a well equipped, stone-walled tea-room, that seemed to serve as some kind of smithing and alchemy supplies shop, as well as a variety of other things.

If they entered, as the ferret simply dropped into the box and, from the outside, appeared to be walking on the walls as the room inside appeared to go down into the floor, they were welcomed by a very well dressed butler called
Shinwa
.
"You coats, Sirs?"


Whether they preferred to relinquish their coats or not, they would in short order be lead to a Tea room inside which fancy cakes, baked goods and, of course, tea was on offer. The food was genuinely quite delectable and should there be any reason or means by which they would check, the ferret seemed only to wish for them to be at ease.

"Please, take a seat won't yuh? An' tell meh 'ow Winstaaan Milla cun 'elp Etzos."
He began with a warm and trustworthy grin.

Thanks goes to Pyrre Ej'qy for inspiring this template
word count: 922

Appearance

When standing at his full height, Winston towers a full 1 foot and one blueberry tall. A fact he will happily demonstrate before flicking said blue orb into the air with his nose and then eating it with a snappy grin.

His eyes are dark and sharp, ringed by dark brown fur upon the bright white fur that sets off across the rest of his face.

Equipement

Winston usually carries the following on his person:
  • Cassion's Locket hangs snugly around his neck.
  • Winston's Fairy Bell hangs from his tool-belt attached to his hip. It's 'ringer' is often bound by a small piece of cloth to prevent it giving away his position while in the wilderness.
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Re: I Prefer to be Called "Evil Genius"

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There was a lot that could be conveyed without language. Without even sound. Kasoria read somewhere that a great thinker of antiquity once proclaimed that speaking was only a sliver of all the real communication we accomplished. Not could accomplished; actually did. That for all our sound and fury, most of what we got across was in looks and tone and pose.

He had difficulty believing that, until he saw Mikiros clump over to the betooth'd chest... look into an opening far narrower than his shoulders... and raise both eyebrows.

Everyone else around him shrugged or looked away or scratched the back of their necks. Because there were no words nor tongue to speak them, yet they all heard-

"Aye. Prob'lee not goin; down there, wee man."

Mikiros grunted and gave a rueful smile. Raand just chuckled. Manclin, though... he was intrigued. Scalvoris seemed to agree with that wistful boy he'd been long ago, and had told Kasoria about. This jaunt across the world had awakened that part of him, but more than Rharne or Korlasir or even Yaralon, this town or pirates and thinkers and mages and monsters seemed to inspire him most of all. He bent over the opening and couldn't keep the smile from his face, even as he suggested-

"I'd wager there's some enchantment, that allows whoever enters to shrink down accordingly."

"Why'd yeh think that?"

"Well, there's clearly a lot more space down there than one would think. So it stands to reason that the entrance to such a world is also... flexible, when it comes to scale and size."

"Reason? Dis is magic. Reason goes out the fuckin' door wiv' dat shite."

"Ah!" The diplomat actually stuck a finger in the air, like he'd secured some great verbal victory. "But you have said yourself, Kasoria, that your magic obeys rules. Things it can and cannot do. Structure and hierarchy of ability and limitations-"

"A'right, a'right, I get the point..."

Kasoria didn't much want to dive into anywhere he couldn't see the bottom of, but that's where the furry little sod was going. He rapped a couple of quick orders to his comrades - try as he might, bastard as he was, he couldn't think of them as "underlings" - and put a hand on Manclin's shoulder.

"I go first."

"Kas-"

"What's me job, Ambassador?"

Manclin's face soured. Kasoria only ever used that title in those rare moments he used officiousness against him. Namely, the exact nature of his presence within the Etzori delegation. He sighed and rolled his eyes, talking in that bored tone of a boy having to repeat a much-hated rule.

"To protect me, at all costs."

"Aye. So if it's somewhere we dun' know, I go first. I'm expendable. Youse ain't."

Manclin actually looked like he was about to argue that point, but Kasoria didn't give him the chance. He turned away, woke his Sparks, stepped up to the lip of the chest and then stepped-

-into-

Fucking

Hells


-time stayed put but space squeezed and stretched and in the trill or three that took everything ballooned around him. The size of a chest because what would be a large shop in Etzos. His feet touched down on a stone floor, not wood boards. Around him there were tables and desks and experiments and samples and glass and metal and stone and all of it was chugging and bubbling and burning and every wall was scribbled and lined with charts and plans and-

The ferret was talking again.

No, that was wrong. The butler was. There was a butler down here. In the chest.

"Oh... my..."

Manclin was right behind him, and gawping with far less tact than the stoic Kasoria. Although, truth be told, it was harder than it looked. Everything in here would have given the alchemists and engineers of Etzos tentrials of thought and ideas to gossip over. He couldn't begin to name half of the tools he was looking at, even guess at their function. Still, he swept his gaze around, as was his purpose. Looking for extra bodies beyond the butler, weapons, windows, entrances, traps, any hint of magic or even traps... but all he saw was a workshop. And one apparently in eternal demand.

As expected.

Fagan Manclin composed himself by the time he sat down for tea with the little inventor. The word "rodent" had left his mind completely. It was too low and verminous a word for the being that could create all this. The magical skill alone was privy to a bare handful in Etzos. The material, engineering genius, though... the melding of disciplines and spheres of the arcane into alchemy... his head swum. Fates, the possibilities...

Focus, old boy. Remember your duty. Take your wonder and channel it into the task at hand. Makes it all the more authentic when you speak.


"Quite frankly, sir," he said, helping himself to a scone with white cream as the butler adroitly filled his cup. Kasoria decided to not loom and sat at an angle from him. Ferret, diplomat, and killer sat almost in a triangle to each other. "I thought simply to wrangle some of your marvelous devices from you, for use in my homeland. But now I am here, seeing all of this..." he shook his head, and Kasoria suppressed a smile. Fanciful though he was, Manclin was an adept diplomat. "... I feel I need to revise the scope of my requests. Etzos is in need of means to communicate more easily with distant parts of it. Utilize magic for production of gems, and food, and metals. I suppose I would have to know more of what your work entails, first..."

The younger man smiled, and Kasoria added sugar to his tea with a delicacy that many would find surprising.

"Although to be even more frank? The boy in me just wants to know how what all these



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Re: I Prefer to be Called "Evil Genius"

You are looking for the Moon? On a stick... Here you go
Winston listenned as they openly discussed their entry to Chest, including the body language, which he countered with a 'goooo ooooon, yuh know yuh waaaant tuh' kinda shrug. All told, he genuinely didn't mind, but certainly would be pleased if they came to see his home.

~ "Reason goes out the fuckin' door wiv' dat shite." ~

The tiny Cadouri giggled at that remark, unable to counter it in any way.
"Dat's de kinda insight a few talented mages me know cud do with understandin'!"
He called back merrilly, in support of the man's blunt, but accurate wisdom. Winston decided that he liked this one... He reminded him of Vega.

Despite his appearance, Winston liked no-nonsense people.

As they sat and settled, their needs were met with aplomb and experience by Shinwa, which if they had the frame of reference, was obviously trained for high society service in his manor and behaviour, despite his current employ.

"Soh, de only ting yuh shud probably know before we get going es dat no one cun commit violence inside 'ere. Net even myself. Ef yuh want tuh leave, just do so are 'want tuh' an' yuh will leave."
He said with a bright smile and the hope this was reassuring rather than anything.

Unwrapping the many layers of a person was one of Winston's interests and so as it became apparent that being blunt, killing and swearing might only be the outer layers of the man known as Kasoria delighted him.

The diplomat was closer than some to asking the right questions. Winston was able and happy to provide his mundane services... That the ferret considered world wide holographic communication Mundane was topic of hot debate with his apprentice... But he was much more interested in open-ended problems... That was where he shone.

"Well, let meh start wid de communication issues."
He said as he opened a draw and pulled out a pair of devices from his pocket. He handed them to Kas, obviously with the perfectly reasonable intention for him to check them over first should he wish before handing them to the Diplomat.
"
I call dis a Hala-cam
..."


The butler echoed in from where-ever he was at the time...
"Sirs, might know it as 'Holo-com'."
Without stopping what he was doing. Winston had been informed that branding was important and knowing what a thing was called without his accent was not always that simple.

Winston smiled as it was inspected.
"Dis one cun communicate over de range af a city, bot de cun range over de entire af Idalas ef yuh needed et tuh... Well, an' yuh gat de Wells far et."
He gestured for Kas to return one of the two devices to him to demonstrate.
"Simply 'old dis an' press dat, den yuh get me image over dere."
Saying so, unless they objected, the ferret pressed the button on his and a little holographic ferret appeared floating above the other device, with sound.

"Yuh cun respond by doing de same. Simply don't touch dis bit an' yuh will stap sending."
He shrugged.
"Yuh cun jost remove dees doh an' 'hold dem..."
He said, removing a small white well, half a Chii stone if either of them were able to tell, from the device.
"An' den yuh cun talk tuh de persan touchin' de other one in yuh 'ead. Bot dat es nat as moch fun."
The butler coughed, something fairly unusual, but it seemed to trigger something in the ferret.
"Oh yeah! Bot' et cannot talk tuh mutiple peepal widdout de 'ala-cam. Af cars. De 'ala-cam cun connect tuh multiple plaaaaceeees and project
somet'ing yuh point et at
, like yuh cun seeee eeeet. Et's great far meetin's."
The alchemist was not sounding board, per say, but certainly sounded like he thought there were more interesting things to discuss.
"Me 'ave at least one af dese spare right now, ef yuh wished tuh make an agreeable arrangement far dem tuh take away tuhtrial?"


He handed Kas a bundle of bits of paper, which appeared to have had some effort put into making them neat, though lacked some 'finnes' if truth were being told.
"Dis es a littal list af existing tings me can provide, wid the right materials."
The papers were devoid of anything but ink and so if the diplomat flicked through them, he would find a vast catalogue of things.
The catalogue
For brevity, please just assume it contains some reference to all of the inventions here and here.
"Some af dem require very specific things, like magics me don't always 'ave open access tuh an' very rare metals an' me don't make wepans... bot let me know ef anything takes yuh interest."
He glanced at the two men's clothing for a moment.
"Me cud make yuh a pretty durable suite af armored clot'ing douh."
He said,
tapping the sleeve of his arm on the table with a heavy 'TINK' sound as the impact made the material turn to metal for a moment during impact
.

"'ere, try dis."
He said, ahnding Kas something else from the draw. This one was a little cumbersome for the tiny ferret and the moment he started to tug at it, Shinwa appeared to assist.
The man was handed a large, odd-feeling blanket.
"Dese are fairly simpal tuh make. Noh Wells needed..."
He explained the finer details of what it did before continuing.
"An' af carse dere es poshuns."
He concluded finally.

After a short break for questions, he seemed to engage on a new level now, like the 'formalities' had been gotten out of the way.
"Wat me excell at doh, es nat making tings, noh, et's solvin' prablems, soh yes, tell meh wat prablems yuh have dat need solvin' and den me cun really work me magic."


He made a thoughtful sound...
"Hmmmmm.... Me nat made stoff dat makes fud are gems befar... Me 'ave some gud recipies for fud dat will fill yuh op wid very lital ingredients."
He shrugged to acknowledge that he didn't feel like that was a great offering.
"Me might be able tuh find a way tuh 'elp yuh locate metals? Bot 'produce' dem? Me cannot just create et fram notting, see. Me cun make wata far yuh, bot fud an' metal, nat quite soh moch. OH!"
He suddenly remembered something.
"Ef yuh simply lookin' far an aid package, den dat me cun doh. Me mean, me cun feed 'undereds af peepal with littal mar den a bowl af soup, noh prablem, bot dat es a thing meh cun do, nat a thing me cun GIVE yuh to take away."


"De singal most limiting factor af most af dis, es access duh Wells. Me personally only 'ave a very small supply far doin' business wid an' getting wells takes a very lang time. Dere are two odda apshuns doh. Ef yuh cun eeda provide de wells yuhself from yuh City, are yuh cun make an arrangement dat would be beneficial far an arganisashun 'ere en Scalvaris know as Isonomia, den me would be able to trade Wells fram Isonomia's supply en exchange far tings dat benefit de facshun."
He smiled.
"OH! Me also accept donashuns af magic, in exchange far guds. Ef yuh 'ave any magic an' a willingness tuh donate a spell are two."


Becoming a little aware that he was now meandering, he handed the conversation back over to the diplomat.
"Per'aps yuh cun share some af yuh goals and proablems wid ol' Winstaan, see wat me cun doh?"
Thanks goes to Pyrre Ej'qy for inspiring this template
word count: 1298

Appearance

When standing at his full height, Winston towers a full 1 foot and one blueberry tall. A fact he will happily demonstrate before flicking said blue orb into the air with his nose and then eating it with a snappy grin.

His eyes are dark and sharp, ringed by dark brown fur upon the bright white fur that sets off across the rest of his face.

Equipement

Winston usually carries the following on his person:
  • Cassion's Locket hangs snugly around his neck.
  • Winston's Fairy Bell hangs from his tool-belt attached to his hip. It's 'ringer' is often bound by a small piece of cloth to prevent it giving away his position while in the wilderness.
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Kasoria
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Re: I Prefer to be Called "Evil Genius"

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Fagan had a tutor when he was younger; both for his education, and his introduction into diplomatic affairs. Karel Boorland. A fine mind, and a proud Etzori. He'd been old when Lisirra and her monstrosities were unleashed, and alas, all the more vulnerable to the plague that came with them. Manclin had been with him at the end. Mopping his brow that was pale instead of bronzed, scorning his low whispers that foretold his own death. He laughed it off, told him he was being foolish, defeatist, shortsighted.

He'd turned away to wet the cloth. When he turned back, his friend was gone. Spotless white seeing glasses still perched on his nose. Eyes sightless and finally free of pain.

Whenever Boorland was flustered or frustrated by some conundrum, he had a routine. He would take off his glasses, and clean them with a handkerchief. First one glass disc, then the other. Most often in silence, eyes focused on the task at hand while his mind detached and went to he problem. By the time they were back on his nose, he had a solution... or at least a considered opinion.

Fagan Manclin wished for the first time he needed glasses. Maybe it would have helped him parse and untangle all of what he'd just been told.

For his own part, Kasoria just cocked an eyebrow at the "no violence is possible here" line. He knew it was meant to be reassuring, and it partly was... but he couldn't help but think of it as a challenge, in some blacker stretch of his soul.

"That's, ah... quite an expansive question, Mister Winston," Manclin said as he carefully set down the Holo-Cam. "This device would definitely be an aid to us. It would make communication between the far-flung areas of our republic much easier, which is all the more difficult now it is so... depleted."

That, Kasoria knew, was the real problem. Not wealth, nor infrastructure, nor weapons and magic. It was the hands needed to fill out those positions; the humans acting as muscles coating the skeleton of state. There were entire villages and towns, mines and workshops, that grew silent and dusty because there was simply no-one left to work them. The engine of industry in Etzos had simply ground to a halt for lack of blood in its veins. The same went for the army, even though every last able man seemed to have been drafted a some point. The Blackjack were only effective in the main city; all others were under military rule, for expediency's sake. Fishing boats, merchant vessels, wagon trains, farms of all kinds...

It'll take a generation to get us upright again. Another two for us to start moving forwards again.

"This item here, though. The... Portaler?" He tapped the catalogue where the hollow upright disc was quite ably sketched. "And what looks like its big brother, here, for longer ranges? Such items might serve us well for quick travel of trained, rarefied personnel. Officials, engineers, officers, that sort of thing. Some means of increasing efficiency with less manpower..." That made the human squint for a moment. Words he spoke seeming to breed ideas in his head. "In fact... some sort of... automation, might benefit us even more. A means to, say, farm more land with fewer people? Build or rebuild with less hands? Men, Mister Winston, are our key issue." He sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his mouth briefly. "Hence why so much of our business on this grand tour has been concerned with encouraging immigration to our land. We have whole swathes of Etzos uninhabited at the moment. Just waiting new life to settle into it and make it productive again. Mayhap if we could offer... some magical aid, to sweeten the deal for those trying to move..." A fresh look crossed his face. One that came with a smile, as if in pride of inspiration. "Or perhaps an endorsement, from a revered thinker such as yourself, would persuade others to come to our homeland...?"

Kasoria blinked slowly, like a large and mutated cat, and said nothing. This was Manclin's game to play. He watched, he protected, and when necessary, he eradicated. He had an opinion or two rattling around in his head, but kept them there for the moment. Instead his black eyes roved around the room, trying to identify as much as he could, even as he chided himself for guessing. There was only the butler, as far as he could tell, and there was... something off about him. Inhuman? Maybe. Magical? Constructed? Was that even possible?

Look around, old man. This wee stoat deals in impossible like a barkeep does pints.
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Re: I Prefer to be Called "Evil Genius"

Endorsement en-snor-sment
Something was pestering the ferret, from the back of his mind, a burning curiosity that oh so often refused to let his mind rest at east on a task. It was a regular occurence and often manifest as a voice in his mind. A Demon. A devil. A maker of distractedness...

The Devil on My Shoulder
Curiosity: We need to talk.
Winston: Wat es et?
Curiosity: That dude with the weird eyes and all the viens. You know, the subtle one?
Winston: De one wid de big black smokie stoff around 'is 'ead?
Curiosity: Yeeeaaahhhh. That one. When you going to ask him what his game is then?
Winston: Dis es a business meeting, soh et's nat appropriate.
Curiosity: That's nice. Not relevant but very nice.
Winston: Look, me want tuh make a gud impreshun. Dese peepal are frama far away land. Imagine de tings dem might 'ave ova dere we could get.
Curiosity: Yeah-yeah, foright gems and all that jaz... They are from a beaten down old wrack of a city-state that has little more then please for assistance to trade for world changing magical items... Lets talk to the man covered is mystery and have some fun!
Winston: No, mun. 'im es de bady gaurd... Nat tuh menshun, me don't tink 'im es very keen an Chest.
Curiosity: Don't forget which one of us controls your bowl movements. Gte in there, drain him for every spell he's got and use THAT to help their cause, if they need it so much.
Winston: Naw-naw, dere es noh need to be like dis... Me will see ef me cun find a littal out. Oh-key?
Curiosity: It'll do for a start.

The ferret's eyes kept darting from the diplomat to various details of Kas's form, trying to guess at what lay beneath each oddity he possessed... or perhaps was afflicted with.

He then caught the diplomat talking about the portellar, causing the ferret's eyebrows to rise above his brow. The diplomat certainly had an eye for the expensive, because, however much the ferret might feel for the man's situation, this wasn't a charitable affair.
"De partals are amongst de most valuable tings me currently 'ave en me catalogue. He cun say dat de shart range one might be someting me could produce far yuh, bot de lang range one requires somet'ing VERY special, me cannat pramiss dat wud be somet'ing me could produce dis arc. Both wud require quite de intestement."
His words were delivered with genuine apology, though if the man had the coin or (better yet) the materials, the ferret was happy to try.
"Ef yuh gat some Ingats of Euvomine from Saiore's Portal Domain, doh. Well dat wud be a different matta."
He concluded hopefully, as if that might actualyl be something he might say yes to.

When he spoke of needing 'manpower' the ferret's face went vacant for a moment. He began to speak as he simultaneously rummaged for something in his draw.
"Me believe very moch dat women will work jost as well..."
He suggested with a cheeky grin. It was a well meant and playful jab, the likes of which suggested the diplomat's mother might not approve of his disregard for the feminine kind.
"Me know an arganisation dat makes apatunities far dem less privileged den most.
Et's called Isonomia
. Soh et might nat mean moch, but me would be 'appy tuh lend de services af me Ships tuh get people tuh yuh? Dem es very fast..."
He said, pointing at the relevant designs absent mindedly as he suddenly remembered something.
"Me share dere might be many we have freed unda Isonomia dat might wish tuh emigrate unda de appropriate and secure agreements. Far dat matta, dere es a lat af par en Rharne also, dat might enjoy taking an a new life. Findin' farms far dem tuh work an es de bigga prablem far dem, ef yuh willing tuh treat dem fair an' train dem w... AH! Dere yuh es!"
He produced a book
that looked like a old but well maintained diary. If either of them were able to read between the lines, it might be clear that the offer of help with immigration was almost entirely to by time while he sought out whatever this was.

The ferret began flicking through the book, taking a pen and writing in it...

Can Sovereign's animate make tools work by themselves?

"Endorsement? Yeah, share."
He replied, as if it were a simple matter that he might deal with for free, brfore adding.
"Fair an' equitable. Affer dem citizenship an' de right tuh a claim tuh wat dem do. Dat's all me ask."
He dropped in, without a second thought... it was after all, practically Isonomia's tagline and would give some, looking for a new life a very good chance at just that.

The ferret was obviously taking in the conversation, and following the proposals, but equally, he didn't hind his destruction, despite his well mannered demeanor.

He didn't make much effort to hide what he was doing, or the words that appeared on the page after this, though without some great effort, it would be hard to read the odd messages that appeared, though the ferret seemed capable at least to get something from it.

"YYyyeeeessss.... Yes, Oh-key! Yes! Soh."
He said, slapping the book closed and looking at the diplomat again.
"Me will reach out tun me cantacts en Isonomia and Rharne, ef yuh get some papa work to me Administrator en Scalvaris,
Alex
at de Isonomia HQ. 'im es moch better at dat stoff den me, me wud be last widdout him. We might want tuh visit tuh see where we wud be sending peepal. Also, me tink me cun make yuh farm tools ar odda similar simple tings, dat cun work by demselves. Et wont solve all yuh prablems an' wont come en large numbas, bot me cud make a hoe dat could till de field far yuh. Ar a bucket dat could irrigate a field?... An command..."
He smiled, as if the added magical tools were a mere bonus to the larger agreement for mutually beneficial immigration.
"'ow does dis sound? Me tink di immigrashun could be good far us all, bot de tools, we will need tuh talk about renumerashun af cars."


In truth, the tools were a little beyond his current capabilities, however they were both possible using Sovriegn and doing anything easy was no fun. The fun was in the impossible.

He turned to Kas and smiled.
"Sarry... Me GAT tuh ask..."
He said, waiting until the bodyguard gave him his attention, even if only partially.
"Wat's wid all de spookie stoff?"
He asked, plainly and harmlessly, the way a child might hammer a blunt question home for no other reason then because they wanted to know, with the innocence of, well, a child.
Thanks goes to Pyrre Ej'qy for inspiring this template
word count: 1188

Appearance

When standing at his full height, Winston towers a full 1 foot and one blueberry tall. A fact he will happily demonstrate before flicking said blue orb into the air with his nose and then eating it with a snappy grin.

His eyes are dark and sharp, ringed by dark brown fur upon the bright white fur that sets off across the rest of his face.

Equipement

Winston usually carries the following on his person:
  • Cassion's Locket hangs snugly around his neck.
  • Winston's Fairy Bell hangs from his tool-belt attached to his hip. It's 'ringer' is often bound by a small piece of cloth to prevent it giving away his position while in the wilderness.
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Kasoria
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Re: I Prefer to be Called "Evil Genius"

Image
Kasoria didn't so much block out what was being said, as he paid it only half an ear. Much of what they were discussing... well, it wasn't that he couldn't understand it, just that it hardly concerned him. Manclin had his own plans and imperatives, both mandated by the High Council and worked out by himself. He'd pursue them, accomplish them if possible, adapt them if he had to, and Kasoria? Him and his handsome Band would keep the diplomat and his clerks alive until they got back home. At that point...

Something else will come along. Some other business, dirty or otherwise.

He let his eyes roam around the room yet again. So many devices he couldn't name, functions he couldn't guess at. Maxine had asked him, a few tentrials ago, what he'd do when they got home. He'd answered honestly: he'd go back to war. That same ugly, vicious, endless conflict in the shadows. Hunting down and making examples of any Morty-loving cunt who wanted to plant that seed in his homeland. But here they were, sitting across tables from the very same, bartering or begging for their toys. What did that make them, if not close to the same?

You don't become your enemy by using his sword. And they're tools, not toys. As long as we get what we need...

"I'll be sure to pay a visit to this, ah... Insomnia organization," Manclin was saying, scribbling down the name and this person in Scalvoris who could help them. "Of course citizenship would be assured by the High Council, as long as they abided by the laws of Etzos. We have no reason to be needlessly harsh to outsiders... and frankly, we're in no position to be pointlessly stringent. As far as there "portals" go, we are prepared to be very generous for such wonderful devices..."

Kasoria's black eyes slid away from the pair again as the conversation lapsed back into the dull. But he frowned slightly as he mulled over something the ferret had mentioned. No, he had to get out of that ferret... damnit, that habit! It... He was a Cadouri, not a "ferret". That was just the form he'd taken. He was as much a stoat as Kasoria was a monkey. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the chattering in both clipped Etzori and Scalvoris Patois buzzing and buzzing until-

"Sarry... Me GAT tuh ask..."

Something in the tone and volume told him he was being addressed; he'd snapped his head around to Winston before the last word was spoken. The little creature didn't flinch or cower like most did when that happened. All the more surprising, since Kasoria rarely looked more reptilian and predatory than when those black eyes were coldly boring into someone.

"Wat's wid all de spookie stoff?"

Manclin didn't choke on his tea; he was too long in the game for that gaffe. Instead he just stopped mid-slurped and examined his options over the rim of his cup. Nothing he could add to this could make it go smoothly. He just had to trust Kasoria - of all bloody people - to be tactful here. Clearly the Cadouri was far too driven by questioning curiosity to be afraid of the man. He relentlessly pursued knowledge and the answers it promised; a thousand "why"s were in his head at all times, and now a chunk of them were attached to Kasoria.

Much to his relief, Kasoria's first reply was the ghost of a smile.

"Heh. I like dat. Have t'remember it." He gestured to the smoke and the chains and his eyes and... all of it, really. His body was riddled with the cost of his magic by this point. Trying to itemize was a tedious affair. "S'my mutations. Frum the Sparks I got in me. The smoky fing? Abrogation, m'sure. Others're... others." He squinted a little as the Cadouri digested this, seizing his moment to ask his own question. Like for like, after all. "What's an ingot uv Eve... Euvomine ?"
word count: 700
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Winston
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Re: I Prefer to be Called "Evil Genius"

OOOOHHH-oh-oh-oh! Teach-me-teach-me! I'm soooo clever!
"...abided by the laws of Etzos..."

The ferret nodded in absolute consent and agreement. This was of course assumed, but perfectly fine, important even, to be clear on. His singular motivation was to offer people chances they wanted and deserved in life and hoped that anyone taking up this arrangement, should it go ahead, would become proud and dedicated citizens of their newly chosen land.

When the obsidian-eyed man looked directly at him, Winston could not help but smile. His naive nature, Angela, his daughter, had said, would one trial get him killed. "It is a fool hardy man that stares down danger without suitable fear of how easily it could SPLAT you." She warned, hoping only to try and ensure her newly adopted farther survived longer than her last.

Winston had been called brave on many occasions, but the truth was that he really didn't see himself that way at all. It was not brave to stare down something that does not scare you. It's also not brave or clever to not be scared of something deserving of fear. One trial perhaps his blazey attitude towards the world and his confidence in his safety within Chest would take his life... But that trial was probably not today... Probably? The last person to intimidate Winston to get better terms in a negotiation succeeded in terrifying him, completely, which ended said negotiation on the grounds that it was meen. Terrified or not, it was not a way to build a relationship and Winson would not have it, whether his trousers were brown or not...

Totrial, only curiosity (the kind that kills kittens) shone in his eyes.

"OOoooohhh, yeah. Me didn't want tuh assume dat wus de case, af carse. Might 'ave jost been a fashun choice."
He said in jest with a smile.
"As a bady gaurd, et certainly dos give yuh an air af 'dont mess wid me, mun'."
While innocent, he was not stupid or rude and so his tone and words were carefully aimed to be polite abd friendly, thus to avoid suggesting in any way that he was mocking the mage. It was more a compliment then anything. Winston had nothing against mages that chose to take a spark, but the idea of taking one himself had always given him the willies.

When the word "Abrogation" was uttered, the ferret got a little fluffier as his excitement rose and his fur literally stood out.
"OOOoooohhhh! Yuh know Abrogashun? Oh! Oh! Cun yuh teach meh? Pleeeeaaaasssseeeee? Me gat dis book yuh see dat tells me all about et and me keep nearly blowin' meself half tuh hell and stoff, all de time, an' dat would 'elp me nat be dead SOOOO moch, mun."
He looked around the room for a moment, looking for something to offer in exchange...
"Watcha want? Name et... me-don't-make-weapans... bot anyt'ing else. Me make WICKED armour. Cun jost make yuh clothes yuh gat an be like Embersteal plate if yuh like? Will still feel like cottooooon...."
He finished, with what he hoped was a 'tempting' tone as his voice rose an octave. He raised his arm and banged his elbow in a non-threatening fashion on the table, causing it to turn solid and make a *TINK* sound.
"...Ar me cun make yuh clothes work like stealth?"
He said, so grabbing something from a draw, placing it into the suite of his jacket and causing it to take on the properties of Minithelite and blend in with their surrounding... In the right circumstances,
it would offer very effective cover from sight
. He took it out again, apparently done with his demonstrations. He was quite aware these were trinkets compared to the gift of magic, but hopefully the mage saw something he liked.

"Euvomine? Et's a metal imbued wid de powa af an Immartal. Any Immartal really. Yuh neva know watcha gonna get, bot when yuh use et an stoff, like armour or, me suppose weapans, et gives et magical prapaties from de demain af de Immartal dat created et."
The idea that he might want some of his Euvomine was not lost on him... but for now, he didn't jump straight into offering it because, quite frankly, his had been a gift from Saiore and he had plans for it... Though they didn't trump learning Abrogation without blowing himself up in the process.
Thanks goes to Pyrre Ej'qy for inspiring this template
word count: 763

Appearance

When standing at his full height, Winston towers a full 1 foot and one blueberry tall. A fact he will happily demonstrate before flicking said blue orb into the air with his nose and then eating it with a snappy grin.

His eyes are dark and sharp, ringed by dark brown fur upon the bright white fur that sets off across the rest of his face.

Equipement

Winston usually carries the following on his person:
  • Cassion's Locket hangs snugly around his neck.
  • Winston's Fairy Bell hangs from his tool-belt attached to his hip. It's 'ringer' is often bound by a small piece of cloth to prevent it giving away his position while in the wilderness.
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