**Wine and Necromancy (pt 1)

Post your RP logs here if you want RPP from the RP Admins and so the pbase can read them.
Post Reply
ikenbon
Posts: 854
Joined: 23 Jan 2009, 00:21

**Wine and Necromancy (pt 1)

Post by ikenbon » 22 May 2021, 00:41

Characters: Zofu
Type: Drama / Setup
Synopsis: Zofu visits a tailor in the Rose City bazaar, reflects on his relationships with his travelling companions, and eventually decides to use the only skills at his disposal to aid Indon, and perhaps earn the respect of his peers.

------------------------------------------

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- 'The night bazaars of Rose City were lit by strings of paper lanterns, and beautiful walls of foxfire azalea bushes, carefully cultivated by the royal gardeners for the mysterious amber glow they gave off in the twilight hours. The polished quartz roads, steps, bridges, and prominades captured the light of the stars in their stone and made it appear as if one were walking across cut pieces of night sky as you passed through the myriad of strange, and exotic stalls. For the nobles of Rose City, the bazaars were a place to walk, and enjoy a bottle of wine on the outdoor patios, or among the small islands of flowers, and greenery that were used to break up an otherwise flat, and unpleasing area of trade.'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- 'There were goods to be found here from every corner of the galaxy, although those same nobles knew better than to trust the works of tramping foreigners, and carpet-stall artists, but the bazaar was popular with other travelers, and to those of less refined appetites for beauty. Whiel Zofu would never consider himself the ladder, he was a tourist, and he had only a few credits to his name.'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- 'Standing behind a silk screen in little more than his small clothes, the Tiefling held his arms out to either side as a wizened, and wrinkled Ghetti wearing a tuban circled him with a tape measure. "Are these to be vestments of labor, or pleasure?" The old Ghetti murmured as the tape was brought around Zofu's ribs, and slid up beneath the long, white mane of hair that flowed down his back. "They must be practical. That is certain. They cannot restrain the movement, but their texture should be light, and soft." Zofu said with some consideration. The tailor nodded, and unclasped the measuring tape before pulling a small notepad out of his pocket, and producing a thick, carpenter's pencil from where it was perched at the crux between his slanted ears, and his weathered skull to make notes. "I see some scars, here." The Ghetti's brows furrowed as he set the notepad down and tapped one on Zofu's side. "Are you 'zantetsu?'"'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- '"I'm not familiar with the word." The Ghetti nodded, picked up his measurement and measured from Zofu's neck, to his shoulder, then from his shoulder to the Majin's wrist. "A warrior." He explained. Zofu gave an 'Ah' of recongition of what he meant and, with a heavy eye-roll, nodded. "I travel with them, and I suppose that means I am caught up in their brutal trade." The Ghetti laughed as he took more notes. "I meet quite a few. The zantetsu is always tearing his clothes. I've kept some materials on hand that might help these last a little longer, but not by much."'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- '"The color?" The wizened Ghetti had begun to measure Zofu's waist, and from his thigh to his knee. His fingers were delicate, and precise, and his demeanor did not waver in unprofessional way as he took these, despite where his hand tread. "White. Black. Gold." The tailor stood, and having finished his measurements, gestured for Zofu to redress and to take a seat on a small chair nearby. "There is a bottle in the cabinet next to you, and a glass. Enjoy yourself as you wait." The Tiefling smiled, and took that which was offered. As he withdrew the bottle, and glass his eyes peered over a number of old tableus, framed holophotos, and books whose jackets were very old, but which had gathered no dust. The Ghetti shuffled over to a standing wall of linen racks and made his selections, bringing different roles to rest next to a sewing table.'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- 'Curious, Zofu picked up one of the books and placed it in his lap as he uncorked the bottle and poured. When his fingers slipped around the ring of the goblet to bring it to his face the old Ghetti cleared his throat and murmured, "Let it breath a moment, boy." Then adjusted a pair of glasses on his face and set to work with his scissors.'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu set the glass aside with a huff, and then opened the book in his lap, and was surprised to find the paper had been hand pressed, and that the parchment, despite its age, held freshly scribed ink instead of printed letters. "You wrote this." Zofu said, almost with amusement, to which the tailor simply nodded without looking up. "They're memoirs. I doubt you'd find them very interesting. Just accounts of my travels, and meetings." Zofu turned the book over in his hand and found the tailor's name written on the jacket. "Zalarand Mustar." The Tailor, Zalarand let his scissors slice through several materials like the fin of a shark gliding across the top of a wavering sea until he was satisfied with the various leafs of thread, silk, and cotton and set them aside.

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- 'When the wine had aired, and Zofu tasted of it, he found it quite tart, and strong, and it brought both a rose tint to his cheeks and a numbness of his tongue. Zofu watched the tailor work while idly flipping through the journal, reading intermediate snippets of Zalarand's life. Amongst the tumbling paragraphs of prose were small poems, and even a handful of scratched drawings. "A poet, a paper maker, a book binder, an artist, a tailor, and probably many other things. You have developed quite a few skills over your life." Zofu found himself in a pleasant mood, and as the sewing maching needle began to pitch and dive like a machine gun, wiping out the noise of the bazaar around them, their shared space felt quite cozy.'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- '"I have always had a great need to work with my hands, and I have always been very curious of things. I enjoy trades such as these, although they've rarely been profittable. I received the best pension with silverworking, and lapidary, but it was tedious, and keeping up with the fashion of it all was time consuming." Zofu nodded and took another sip from his glass. "But tailoring is less tedious, and less fashionable?" The Ghetti stopped the sewing machine and looked over to Zofu with the plainest expression of honesty that it made Zofu grin from ear to ear as he simply said, "I never meant to imply that I had learned my lesson."'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- 'The trousers were black, somewhat loose and similarly contained two layers also insolated with the same hardened, and flame retardant material. With a pair of high-top fighting boots added to the ensemble, it looked very 'galactic', uniform, and functional, but Zalarand had done his best to add flares near the neck over the overjacket, and had sewn the pattern of a unicorn head in gold thread upon the back to give it a stylstic flare. With the color opened to reveal the flash of the linen underneath, and perhaps with a scarf the outfit could be further enhanced, but for now it was only important that Zofu was properly garbed. He had spent so many weeks both in the mountains of Odayakana, and aboard Nova's freighter in little more than a ragged pair of robes, and those disgusting, multi-colored gi's that the temple had provided that he felt he had lost some sense of self.'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- 'Satsified, Zofu paid Zalarand, and the tailor was kind enough to point the Tiefling in the direction of a few reputable cafes, and other shops to spend his evening, and his credits. Zofu thanked the Ghetti and stepped back out from behind the silk screen back onto the street, feeling light, and refreshed by his new raiments. He found, having had a taste for the wine, that his thirst hadn't been quenched as of yet, and so followed the directions he had been given to the lantern-lit porch of a small outdoor cafe simply called, "Memoria" that was brimming with Hydian, and alien patrons. They were not the affluent crowd of the cafes, and restaurants which Zofu had passed on his way here. Their attires were more haphazard, their haircuts more loose, and even their body language was louder and less dignified. They cursed. They smoked deathsticks. They drank directly from the bottles. There was a thrum of bohemian energy about them.'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu took a seat at one of the table, and was greeted several minutes later by a long-legged Hydian male with a dragoon's mustache, thin lips, and bushy eyebrows that looked like wooly caterpillars crawling over the ridges of his brow. "Good evening, monsieur. What will the gentleman be having this evening?" A placard of the drink menu was handed to Zofu, but the Majin quickly realized it was writ in the Hydian tongue, or perhaps he simply could not parse the words he saw. "...a sauvignon blanc?" The Hydian replied in his native tongue, and then, when Zofu met his words with confusion, extended his hand and drew an indication of 'size'. "Bottle." The Hydian with the dragoon mustache nodded and left, returning both with the wine, and a basket of bread and oil not very long after.

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- 'It was a warm evening, and the sky was filled with lunar moths that fluttered between the various gardens as the denizens of the city went about their shopping, or like Zofu, perched on the edges of the stalls, and drank. Zofu drank directly from the bottle he had been given, occasionally taking large gulps from a glass of water that had been placed alongside his tray, while sparsingly picking apart the bread loafs with his sharpened, demon talons to dunk in oil and chew as he gazed about. His mind wandered as he idled towards the events at present: (Only someone like Nova can travel across an entire galaxy and find a fight waiting for her minutes after she arrives.)'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- '(And Lenne... *sigh* I hope this 'trip' is good for... whatever is going on with her. The two of them... I don't know if they could enjoy something like this. They seem so predisposed to this... *ugh* what even are they doing?) Zofu broke off another hunk of bread and dipped it in the oil, let it drain, then chewed, a small knot forming between his perched eyebrows before he took another drought of the blanc. He wasn't sure why he felt such a frustration towards them, but he remembered the conversation with the tailor, and conversations with his own father: (...I don't understand what they strive for. It's exhausting just to watch them 'train' and exercise. Even on that cramped freighter they'd shove the crates out of the way just to do some pushups, and katas.)'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- '(They could both be enjoying this evening, but instead they're probably off doing... whatever 'zantetsu' do.) Zofu frowned. He felt a bubbling resentment towards the pair of Saiyans. Not because he was 'left out' of their 'warrior's journey',but because, like the tailor, they seemed to know what they were reaching for, knew how to work hard to achieve it, and grow more skilled in doing so. (I don't know what I thought this 'doctor' Indon would be like, but he seems to be of the same temperament as well.) Zofu sighed, and took another drought, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he set the glass back down. (...Maybe I should have stayed in the Houses of Kharj. At least Phaetasma could have kept helping me with my sorcery... and I would be getting stronger alongside them.)'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- 'Placing some zeni bills down on the table to pay for the food, and drinks, Zofu picked up the wine bottle, and carried it with him as he began to walk down the street, his eyes now listlessly looking through the sights surrounding him, as he navigated the quartz paths. He could not shake the gnawing feeling of slowly, day by day, becoming inferior to his companions. However slow, and gradual it was, Lenne was becoming more and more Nova's equal, and she herself was now so strong, and confident in her strength that if Zofu did not also produce some successful result of skill he was likely to be... left behind. What reason, afterall, would Nova have to travel with someone like the Tiefling if he could not, in his own way, match her nature. Zofu had felt very lonely since his banishment from EON, and his devil's work did not help him make friends easily. The 'verse was large, and Zofu did not enjoy the thought of roaming it forever on his own. '

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- '(I miss my brothers.) He thought as he unscrewed the blanc top and took another drink. (I wonder where Zadyr is... and Hirobi.) The Tiefling's head looked briefly up to the stars, searching for some red light amongst the black infinity that he might call home, but he wasn't even in the right quadrant to see its ruby flare from afar. The demon wandered off the track of the bazaar into the commonfield of quartz-cobbled streets, and crystal windowed cottages with solemn steps. (Maybe if I could help this 'Indon' person, it would please Nova... but whatever magic they're doing in that facility... I know nothing of.) And then Zofu stopped in his tracks.'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- '(Well... maybe 'I' can't help... but there must be... of course. That's it.) And suddenly Zofu increased his gait with a sudden burst of energy, and with a slanted smile on his face as he searched Rose City in hopes of finding a graveyard.'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- 'It took several hours for Zofu to find what he sought. He was given directions to several resting places nearby, but what Zofu sought was something more specific. A graveyard of reputable note. A place where bright, inventive minds might be buried. Where he ended up, in fact, was a museum of history. A museum that was, at present, closed. An Icerian guard was posted at its entrance, baring a tall staff with a lazer-tipped blade of sparks protruding from its top. His armor was formal, almost ceremonial with its etched breastplate and flowing blue cape, but the body beneath was strong, and dismissing of threats. Only a few lights were lit in the windows, and Zofu could make out other silhouettes passing by in the faint electric rays. Zofu stopped in the shadow of a adjacent building and waited until several passerbys drifted away before taking a final gulp of wine, setting the bottle down, and raising his hand to touch the opal horn that protruded from his head.'

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- '"Glamour..."'

[CHAT:OOC] (95%) Zofu has decreased their RP Energy by 5.

[CHAT] (100%) Zofu: -- 'A sheen of beautiful, prismatic sparks burned off Zofu's fingers as he drew his fingers to the tip of his horn, and concentrated his sorcery on the fixed image of the guard in his mind. As the sparks fell, his overcoat and vestments shimmered and hummed with light until crystallizing into a suit of Icerian armor similar to what he had spied across the street. It was not a perfect recreation, and would not hold up to close scrutiny, but mortals were often so laxidasic in their couplings that Zofu felt it should go unnoticed. Not only were his clothes changed, but his person. His soft, sky-blue skin was changed to match the rippled muscles, and natural chitin of the changelings -- even a long, slashing tail swayed behind him, and his single horn had become two jet black ornaments sticking out to either side of his skull.'

[CHAT] (95%) Zofu: -- 'With his diguise settled, and a plan forming in his mind, the Tiefling summoned his courage, and then strode towards the doors of the Hydian museum, with the keen awareness that he was now making the same folly of finding trouble wherever he went, as Nova.'

Post Reply