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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Aug 5, 2023 0:05:34 GMT -5
"Ay!" Izzy barks a little laugh at the absolute audacity of Morrigan stealing a drag off her cigar, infinitely amused. She takes the cigar back, waggling it at Morrigan in mock threat for their cheek (of course, Izzy only ever awarded people for their cheekiness, as she always found it to be in fine humour). When she takes another drag, she finds glitter sticking to her teeth-- again-- but that appeared to be par for the course.
She watches as Morrigan leads the man over to Bubbles, the Goodest Bean, and most Worthy of Treaties, who would carry the precious, precious Iskemleji cargo straight to "safety". As she eyes the situation, she starts to follow Morrigan's train of logic, and meets their look with one of their own. It was truly remarkable to experience someone as on-the-level as she was herself; Morrigan was an artist in so many senses of the word, and they moved from thought to thought with a liquidity Izzy could only admire. They shared a mutual slyness, a conniving and diabolical delight that passed between them like the smoke of Izzy's cigar and Morrigan's copious glitter.
This man had no idea what he was in for.
"You won't be coming?" The Iskemleji confirmed, looking between the two fellbloods with a little unease. He knew, on some level of his mind that told him to be wary of grinning demons, that they were not to be trusted, but that was a distant ping in the back of his head, a self-preservation instinct long suppressed and further smothered by Morrigan's handiwork. "Won't I need a guard for the journey?"
Izzy shakes her head. "That would give you away, my good man! What sort of normal, poor soul has body guards accompanying him to the other side of the continent?"
The Iskemleji gives her a blank stare that seems to indicate he had assumed that was, in fact, the case, and Izzy remembers that nepotism is a thing and that this man was born with a copious amount of silver in his mouth.
"--They do nooot." Izzy says slowly, as if talking to a child and answering her own question. "The people at the pass here knew where you'd be going and who you went with-- including us." she gestures at herself and Morrigan. "If we go with you, we at best we look like kidnappers, and the first thing they'll do is go looking for you. The Zeinav Corps pouring over the land? You'd be found in a month. At worst, you're followed and targeted by anyone else on the lookout for you and--" Izzy ends her sentence with a couple of clicks, drawing her thumb across the front of her throat meaningfully.
"Sorry, mac, you want a new life and to die a hero, you need us to sing your praises and complete the legend." Izzy raises her palms upwards, as if it was out of her hands. Which it very much was not, but that was neither here nor there. "New house, new life... oooh you should come up with a new name, too. That would be extra good protection, mmhm."
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Aug 10, 2023 11:14:00 GMT -5
Admittedly, asking the Iskmleji to go on his own was no small task. It would mean sending him to his destination unarmed and without protection. But just when he seemed like he was about to back out, Mistress Issala Izzy ‘the Maestro’ Arodre jumped in with a smooth explanation as to why this had to be the case, effectively sealing the deal between them. It was admittedly a good explanation as to why they couldn’t go with him, of course. The poor fool had no idea that they were actually sending him up shit creek without a paddle.
But the man seemed to trust them completely at this point, which was a colossally, monumentally bad idea. He had no idea what he was in for.
“A new name, you say?” Morrigan jumped in, turning to the Iskmleji with a grin on their face. They tapped their fingers together. “How about… Fred?”
The Iskmleji wrinkled his nose. “Fred?” He repeated in the same way one might utter, a hot stinking harpy shit?
But Morrigan was already bound and determined to follow this course of action, to humiliate him as much as this man would allow them to. To be honest, he hadn’t even done anything truly horrible, but he’d lied to them and put them in a situation where they could’ve been killed because of his own cowardice, so… you know, c’est la vie. “It’s the perfect name!” They insisted. “The name of the game is to be as nondescript as possible. No one will look at a name as plain as Fred. It will fool everyone.”
“Alright…” He sounded uncertain, but by now Morrigan was certain he was so far gone that he’d allow them to piggyback off his shoulders if they said it was for the sake of his own protection. Turning to Bubbles, he steeled himself for the journey ahead, relieved that he’d finally reached the light at the end of the tunnel. That finally, finally… he could put all of this political drama and mess behind him, and he could be safe. He turned back to Morrigan and Izzy, eyes misty with tears. “I can’t thank you enough. I’ve been given a new lease on life, one I won’t waste. And I have you two to thank for this. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”
He grasped Morrigan’s hand with one of his own, and Izzy’s in the other.
“So truly, the Iskmleji thanks you. You've truly earned Zeinav's favor."
Oh, they were about to earn Zeinav's favor, alright.
“Please, it was nothing for the great Wizard and the great Detective!” They boasted in that way people did when they really wanted you to complement them. Truthfully - this juggling act was no easy task! Thankfully for everyone involved, Morrigan was used to acting as a one-fellblood circus. “Anything to help Zeinav’s people as loyal citizens. May your journey be smooth, Master Iskmleji, and may you swallow as few bugs as possible.”
After exchanging their goodbyes, the Iskmleji finally clambered onto Bubbles’s back, the dragon jumping excitedly in anticipation of the journey, before taking to the air and bringing their mark with him. Morrigan held a hand over their eyes to block out from the sun, watching the sky until Bubbles was nothing more than a speck. They’d accomplished their mission - the Iskmleji was well and truly safe from threats.
They let out a wistful sigh before turning to Izzy and clapping their hands together.
“Whelp! Time to end this man’s entire career.”
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Sept 4, 2023 20:59:20 GMT -5
Izzy clamps her lips together to try and prevent the laugh from squeezing out, and snorts instead. Fred.
The Iskemlji seems to take exception to that, but he relents, eventually. Izzy takes on her best attempt at a solemn expression, nodding sagely as Morrigan explains as if this is perfectly logical and factual and bore no further internal soul-searching to see if he was really being put on by a pair of rascals he'd hired. He was woefully, blessedly, putty in their hands. It was almost pathetic, almost enough to make even Izzy feel bad.
Almost.
Certainly not enough to change her mind or develop any sort of conscience that might hinder the good time they were having.
"Bon voyage! Have fun in your new digs!" Izzy waves a handkerchief in the air after them. "Byyye, goodbye now, bye bye, byyyee!" She waves and waves until the "Fred" and Bubbles are out of view, gone over the horizon.
Izzy drops her hand and throws her head back with a sigh. "FINALLY! He's gone," turning her head towards Morrigan holding out her hand to slap her palm against theirs. "Masterfully done, O great Wizard, how do you do it?" Cackling softly to herself and rubbing her palms together, she starts to wa;l back towards the wagon. "That sets us up nicely for phase two, me thinks~. Think we can swing an audiencce with the Sultan or someone who knows him to drop the bombshell?"
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Sept 8, 2023 7:42:56 GMT -5
One might look at Morrigan and wonder how it was possible for someone who was so insufferably smug (mountains of ego that hid deep trenches of insecurity) to look even more overconfident, but Izzy’s praise only sent them soaring to new heights as they spun around in circles at a job well done. A shower of glitter got everywhere, sparkling rather nicely in the sand. “Oh, it was hardly anything. Truly, his fate was sealed the moment that his men turned on him. In a vast island formed of solitude and betrayal, one will take any chance they can to climb off on the first bridge of perceived loyalty.”
Their tone, however, told a rather different story than the humbleness they were adopting. A story that said, Oh, yeah, I did do that, I’m the best!
Then, they paused. As an afterthought, added, “Nor would it have been possible without you sealing the deal. Adding credibility to my claims. You’re quite the maestro of madness, you know?” It was difficult to tell, but Morrigan almost sounded impressed by her talent. The charlatan was quite accustomed to seeing things in terms of what they could use to further their goals. Appraising skill any loyalty and stitching together the pieces to form a quilt, a network of people in their corner. Even more difficult to tell from Morrigan’s expression alone was that thoughts about use and loyalty hadn’t been the first thought that crossed their mind at all.
No; it had been, We work well together.
They clicked their tongue when Izzy started describing the next phase of this impromptu plan to screw this poor embezzler out of his fame and fortune. “Oh, oh, oh, Dearest Issala Arodre… there is perhaps something that you didn’t know about me.”
She probably did. Morrigan was insufferable when they started getting on about themselves, and had probably shared this particular story ad nauseam. But now, it would come in handy.
“The Sultan owes me a life debt.” A long time ago, an innocent, adorable, charming fellblood named Morrigan Moonweaver tried to scam the piss out of one of the most powerful witches of their age. It was unknowing, at first - an unlucky coincidence involving a tarot deck. Unfortunately for them, when they learned her identity, they… doubled down and tried to hustle her even harder. The witch found this so amusing that she ended up inviting them out for a meeting instead, with an unusual request - seven nights, seven stories. Along the way these meetings spiraled into an accidental political conspiracy involving a not-so-baby trap, a mad mage, botched assassinations, and a lot of glitter.
The entire meeting had resulted in both Lady Kamille and Morrigan being personally thanked by the Sultan for their efforts in saving his life. For a criminal and a thief and a liar, the favor of the Sultan was like receiving a single get-out-of-jail pass to redeem whenever they so desired. It meant protection, the safety of knowing that so long as they never spent it, they’d be able to weasel their way out of whatever might happen to them.
But using it now to screw someone else over was far more fun.
It was all too easy for Morrigan to speak to an attendant, drop their name and the reasoning they were here - important news regarding the Sultan’s innermost cabinet and a staggering betrayal of the highest caliber! - and the two fellbloods were brought promptly into an empty throne room. Not ten minutes later did a door by the side of the room open, and a stuffy announcer call out his presence.
“NOW ENTERING, VENERABLE SULTAN ADATIAN JADDA ZIEV, THE SILENT NAGA OF THE SANDS, WARRIOR KISSED BY THE SUN, FRIEND OF THE CROWN AND COMMANDER OF ZEINAV’S JADE LEGIONS.”
Morrigan had to roll their eyes at the insane plethora of titles. Mine are so much better than that, they thought. Nevertheless, they held themselves straight while the man of the hour arrived, slinking to his throne in surprisingly modest clothes for someone of his stature - rather than ceremonial clothes, he was adorned in warrior’s garb, with sashes in all shades of green and red tied around his head and waist. A curved blade hung from his belt. A man who’d chosen, in a political setting, to present himself with the prowess of a warrior. Interesting.
He stood in front of his throne rather than sitting in it; a cool, critical eye appraised the two in front of him before dawning in recognition.
“If it isn’t Morrigan Moonweaver. And… someone new.” He noted, tilting his head at Izzy. “Pray tell, for what reason do you come banging on my door this morning, Master Alchemist and Miss…”
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Sept 29, 2023 8:38:48 GMT -5
Izzy applauds lightly and sagely as Morrigan does their spin, exuduing such an aura of false humility along with the glitter that it would make anyone with a lesser constitution choke.
One Izzy was altogether too happy to match.
"Who, meeee?" she flaps her hand at the praise, clearly preening and enjoying such compliments. She enjoyed playing the part of the hype-man, as it were, the "yes, and" to any ongoing back and forth that she could add layers to for an extra sense of authority and credibility. Maestro of Madness... "I ought to add that to my many wonderful titles, I think I rather like that." snickering gleefully, she rubs her hands together.
Izzy raises her brows as Morrigan flaunts their little gambit, a fun tidbit involving the Sultan, and cannot help but grin. It would be most fun to see how this played out. "Then back to fair Zeinav we go~."
Now, Izzy was not skeptical of Morrigan's story involving the Sultan, in a precise sense. They simply knew that they were prone to embellishment, which was hardly a character flaw in Izzy's eyes, and she could not help but wonder how much of 'life-debt' had been extrapolated from some other thing. Either way, the truth was bound to be fascinating.
So it was much to her surprise that, upon their return to Zeinav, Morrigan and Izzy were granted an immediate and private audience with the Sultan himself.
The Zeinavian in her was, internally (for Izzy would never allow such things to bubble to an external surface for others to mind), on edge about approaching the highest authority in the land, one who was quite miliartistic-- perhaps as a result of a life-time of being a menace in various forms-- but Morrigan seemed to ooze confidence and assurity, and they were a menace in and of themselves. So this should be fine! What sort of chances would they have for anything like this again?
Best to make the most of it.
As the herald comes out to announce Sultan Ziev and all his many titles, Izzy bows the appropriate amount until she is addressed-- though she does give a sideways glance with brows lifted to Morrigan. The Sultan knew them by name. That was quite a feat.
When introductions came to her, she straightened, putting on her most humble facade. "A pleasure to be in your presence, Your Grace. I am Issala Arodre, Private Investigator Extraordinaire. My companion and I come to you with grave news, I am afraid, for we would not disturb you for a trifling matter... there is a traitor in your midst."
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Oct 2, 2023 12:14:50 GMT -5
Yes, Morrigan was an incorrigible liar at the best of times - and at the worst, a pathological one. There was no way of knowing how embellished or even outright false their tales were at any given time, but given their track record and utter lack of greatness in real life, it was clear that many of their tales have been greatly exaggerated. But somehow, this particular story - beyond anyone’s wildest beliefs - turned out to be the truth.
Morrigan truly had saved the Sultan’s life from a trap and conspiracy once upon a time - though the Sultan himself seemed regretful to allow this little sparkly purple jester traipse across his carpet, he was at least willing to give Morrigan a brief five minutes to hear them out.
(In all honesty, their goodwill was likely extended because of Kamille’s reputation as one of the most powerful witches in the land, but that was neither here nor there.)
Izzy, thankfully, took the introduction in stride, introducing herself with a weight and gravitas that both downplayed her more shady nature and established herself as a reputable citizen of the country all at once - and masterfully led into the real reason they were here. A dastardly conspiracy, another plot against the man’s life. There was seemingly no shortage of those in the desert.
Morrigan took that cue to straighten to their full height - admittedly unimpressive, but they had spent their entire life trying to create an air of authority that made themselves appear taller than they were. The king of liars pressed a hand to their chest, ready to indulge in their favorite game once more. Oh, they were about to sell this.
“Your Excellence… my associate and I have come here today with a simple, but incredibly urgent matter. You see, we take our jobs protecting this fine city quite seriously. And while we were working what was supposed to be a simple protection job, we were ambushed by a band of deadly brigands in a bypass between here and King’s Valley. We, of course, managed to ward them off and protect our charge, one of the members of your very own inner circle. And in the midst of doing so, we discovered his plot to embezzle funds from your very own coffers!”
The room fell silent while Morrigan let the accusation hang in the air. The sultan propped his hand in his chin, considerate.
“A grave accusation indeed, Master Moonweaver. I don’t suppose you have the proof to back it up? You may have assisted in unveiling a political plot once before, and your friend may have accolades, but I cannot just accept such a claim on good faith alone.”
Morrigan faltered. Uh. They honestly hadn’t expected him to demand proof so suddenly. Time to bullshit the hell out of this.
“Why, we do have proof - the proof of confession. We heard word of treason from your associate’s own mouth before he solicited us to keep his secret and smuggle him out of the country. As loyal citizens, we knew that we could not abet a criminal, but we had no choice but to play along with The Iskmleji’s ploy and get him some place safe so we could make you aware of what had transpired. If you collect him, you can learn for yourself how deep his appropriation of your funds runs.”
The Sultan did not look particularly impressed.
“So you’re telling me… you caught wind of this treason and instead of carting him straight back to me, you sent him to an undisclosed location from which he could flee at any time.”
“Why, to give him a false sense of security, of course!” Morrigan assured him. “If he had any suspicion that we didn’t have his best interests at heart, then he would have attempted to run from us. So we decided to give him what he wanted. He is safe and protected in a home in the Crescent Isles, the address of which is only known to me - and soon, you, when I give it to you. He is protected by my very own dragon, who will not let him escape under any means necessary. Your own cabinet member, delivered nice and pretty in a neat bow, just for you.”
They fluttered their eyelashes, clasping their hands together as if waiting for praise.
“… I see.”
The sultan nodded, looking towards Izzy.
“I’m assuming you can validate their tale. I do not take kindly to disloyalty in my court, and this jester has done me a great service before in the past. So I will trust your words as loyal citizens of this country and investigate this matter, so long as you give me the address to this home. Your service to this country is much appreciated.”
The tone of his voice said he’d had more than enough of this tomfoolery for the day.
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Nov 13, 2023 18:48:47 GMT -5
Izzy watches as Morrigan works their magic, doing her best not to let the bright grin show on her features at all. A somber countenance for this situation was most ideal. It was a deep and terrible tragedy after all. ...One that she and Morrigan had facilitated, but who was counting?
The Sultan, apparently, was.
He was sharp, Izzy would have to give him credit there. She was far more used to nobility that was easily swayed and lied to with some careful flattery. She had known the Sultan was no such man, and avoided him and the Corps at all costs, but to see his scrutiny first hand makes Izzy stand a little more at attention. While Morrigan's flittering about with their words was doing an excellent job at obfuscation and keeping the facts of the matter at bay, she could see that the Sultan was the sort of man who could see such things for what they were. Curse the fact that they were in the presence of one of the few competent nobles of Charon...
As he turns to Izzy, a smile starts to flash into place reflexively before she catches it, tempering the easy grin into something more wry. Though hearing Morrigan be called a jester nearly makes her snort. She steps forward to Morrigan's side and pats their shoulder in a concilatory way. "I can vouch, Your Excellency, as I was there and present. The Iskemelji's men hired us to take him across the desert. They were in on the brigand's attack, where both myself and Master Moonweaver here were injured. You will find the remains of the carriage and the brigands in the pass to the south and west of here that begins the trek down towards King's Valley. If not for The Wizard's careful handling of the situation to grant our charge safe harbour, I am certain he would have used the opporunity presented by our injuries as one where he would have escaped us and into the desert, to ends unknown."
"And in so providing this ruse to him, Your Grace, we have what we would not, if we had tried such other avenues in the predicament we were in. We now know where he is, that he is unharmed, that he cannot leave... and that he thinks he has beaten you." She looks to Morrigan and nods a little. If there was any time for the location of where the "safe-house" was, it might be that.
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Nov 15, 2023 21:08:46 GMT -5
Unfortunately whatever self-preservation instincts Miss Issala Arodre might have possessed when in the presence of one of the few nobles with a nose sharp enough to sniff out bullshit from a mile away was lost on the charlatan, who’d already been in the Sultan’s good graces once before. Besides, their story was not entirely untrue. The Iskmleji had been betraying his country, embezzling funds, and ready to fake his death to escape retribution. The only omission was that they’d been the ones to push him off the ledge to get to that point. In legal language that course of action was known as “leading the witness” or “backing him into a corner”. Apparently, some people thought that gently nudging someone into committing a crime they’d already been planning on was immoral.
Ah, po-tay-to, po-tah-to. What the sultan didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. Besides, Izzy was there to vouch for them, and her word seemed to be the very reassurance the sultan needed. Morrigan’s actions may have proven beneficial in the past but their claims were still dubious at best. Issala, whose reputation was still unknown to the Sultan, was much more reliable than someone whose reputation was less than… well, reputable.
But by Ginma she sang like a canary when it came to the con. They did have to suppress their amused snicker at the assertion that their lives were practically at stake if they hadn’t helped the politician escape, because to be honest they still weren’t certain the man hadn’t soiled his robes at the first sign of danger. But it seemed to work, and the Sultan considered her words with far more weight he had Morrigan’s.
“Not all battles are fought with scimitars and valor, your excellency.” Morrigan began their lengthy preamble, picking up the threads she’d placed down. They pressed a hand to their chest, crocodile tears shimmering in their eyes; because yes, they could cry on command. “Ours was one of wits. A delicate balancing game in which we had to gain his sympathy. You learn to catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and if he was absolutely certain that he could trust us, then he would fly himself right into our web.”
The Sultan rubbed at his chin, his resolve wearing.
Morrigan tended to have that effect on people, mostly because they were so annoying it tended to grate on the edges.
“... Very well. Your story is not without merit. And with you corroborating these assertions,” He nodded towards Issala, “There is no reason why I should turn a blind eye to the possibility of treason within my court. Now then, Master Moonweaver. The address to this… safe house.”
And with a wicked smirk, Morrigan prattled off the address. Within days came message from the search party sent by the sultan that they’d found the Iskmleji hiding in the exact place Morrigan Moonweaver had claimed. And all at once, the political conspiracy unraveled like a spool of thread. The Iskmleji was dragged to what served as the Zeinavian Embassy down south kicking and screaming and wildly asserting, “The fellbloods planned all this!”
Supposedly, he lost all fighting spirit when he realized that his claims held no water, thanks to Izzy’s story and her quick thinking. Soon he’d be brought back to the country to face trial, and soon, Morrigan and Izzy would be compensated for their service to the country (in addition to the hefty fees Morrigan had levied for the man’s ‘protection’.) Regardless, they were about to come out of this rich, heroes of the country, and all because the embezzling chucklefuck had made the mistake of crossing two of the most capricious and petty criminals in Zeinav.
Another successful scheme masterfully pulled off the terrible two!
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