Scene #6584: *Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears-2

Owner	Pose
Bloody Revelations	There's something to say along the lines of once being an oddity, two being a coincidence, and three times being a pattern, but at only the second incidence of encountering anything that is allegedly supposed to be an asset of the Lover Clad in the raiment of Tears, it already feels like a pattern that will continue. The Circus Moribund had been weird, off-kilter, small, and seemingly inconsequential, like a pet project more than anything, or an experimental one off. Nothing like the black ships and hidden soulsteel foundry of the Silver Prince, or the undead fortress Juggernaut or the panopticon suppression corps of the Mask of Winters. It was kind of weird and lame even compared to Uncle Eye and Seven Despair's Crazy Touchy Puzzle Basement. Heading into what is supposed to be the heart of the Lover's mortal territory in Creation, and indeed, apparently a country only five miles from the border of the Shadowland where her actual base is supposed to be, that feeling repeats itself anew. An incredulous gut punch of 'wait, that's it?'. It doesn't require just trusting the Abyssal's word on this. Even the most cursory of information gathering in the Northeast reveals that this little feudal kingdom, going by the name Gradafes, barely having a single page in a metaphorical travel handbook (or a literal one, should at some point someone start wanting to trade with the Guild), is indeed widely known to be a possession of an ancient, powerful, mysterious lady ghost who everyone knows is the real puppeteer behind its affairs, but in that way you're not supposed to say openly. It's also easy to find out that the place is tiny, has no standing army whatsoever, and its income is based primarily on goats. Literally goats. Goat farmers providing cashmere and wool. The capital city, Graf-Vindak, likely the one place anything slightly interesting might happen, looks like it might fall short of even ten thousand people, being scarcely better than a very large incarnation of one of those highlands keeps one might find in northern Scotland in a year that only has three digits, with the same kind of rocky, chilly, stubbornly grassy and 'only arable after generations worked at it' sort of look, with a 'castle' in mostly elaborate wooden namesake, rather than the fantastical mid-European ideal. The idea of snooping around it seems ludicrous. Even the handful of Elites could, if they really wanted to, trivially kill everyone here. There are scarcely real city guards, and even then they're largely equivalent of beat cops with spears, never mind an actual military presence. There's nowhere to go in any of the rocky wilderness around it, there is only one road that leads through one gate when one goes past the scrubby farmlands and into the only part of the city worth building a wall around. There are no real signs of wealth beyond the odd bit of jewelry or fancy gold ornament on a storefront. There are really no signs of magic at all. No ghosts either. Farms. Goat herders. Smithies. Loggers. Fletchers. Tanners. Granaries. Kitchens. A big wooden castle with a draped image of a white ram's head. It's b o r i n g.
Lezard Valeth	This is truly the most powerful weapon against Lezard Valeth. He wants to leave this trivial place already. The last boring place he encountered, he arranged for the heirs apparent to attempt to mutually assassinate each other with Ghoul Powder. That was actually kind of fun. But this place doesn't even seem to have that much potential. It's the most irrelevant, boring, useless place he could ever conceieve of. Someplace he wouldn't look twice at were he not being directed. And so it is that Lezard has acquired a mug of whatever passes for ale or mead in these parts and is drinking openly as he watches the situation unfold... or lack of unfold around them. "Is this truly suppsoed to be everything it is reputed to be?" Lezard asks. "I see more ambition in children than in the whole of this city."
Staren	Staren decides to compromise between preparedness and stealth. He's in his robot body, armored up, but with the helmet off, and a mantle and cloak covering his armor -- he's obviously wearing metal armor painted red, people can see his boots and his gauntlets -- but the most high-tech elements of the design are concealed. Well, unless people can somehow identify the micromissile launch ports and beam cannons on the gauntlets... So maybe he can pass as a traveling warrior. A traveling warrior who has come to talk about... economics? Yes, he's walked into a tavern to ask goat herders and farmers questions about how much they make, how much time they have to spend working, and also if they've heard anything about that weird circus going around.
Haguro	The logical side of Haguro is telling her that Gradafes is probably the most normal place she's seen in Creation so far, and there's probably not a lot to worry about. The wrestling-watching side of Haguro begs to differ. There has to be SOMETHING worth digging out of this place, or they wouldn't have come out here! But where to start? "It's... I mean, we wouldn't be here for no reason, right? There has to be something useful about the Lover to find here." That's easier said than done, of course. Peering at Lezard, Haguro furrows her brow as that brain tainted by years of watching overly muscled men grapple each other works its magic. After about a minute of staring, she snaps her fingers, then starts waving Lezard over (and even resorts to trying to drag him by the arm if need be) to whatever passes as a blacksmith out here. Her goal: Finding out whatever passes for entertainment here, notably mentioning interest in contests of strength or combat prowess.
Azure Armature	Azure Armature, noted awful robot person with extreme thoughts about civic duty and governmental control of ecoomics, moves directly down the road through the Most Boring Town In Creation (actually they farm Goats, not dirt, so they're three steps removed from Poverty Theatre and Backstorysville For Every Given Madlib Solar Incarnation From People Too Annoyed Coming Up With Complex Backstories About Their Absurd Superhuman God-Being to Reshape The World) wearing her normal getup of tactical harness, poncho-cloak, and mildly magic combat boots. "You there, guard." Armature announces. "I am an Exalt, a legendary hero who has heard that your cashmere is of acceptable sourcing and quality. I bear both scrip and barter. Show me to your finest stall so that I may commence with capital trading for a new scarf." She tugs her blue scarf off from around her neck, showing frays, battle damage, and stains. "As you can see, I require a new scarf." You may feel free to announce me as the hero known as the 'Blue Death'."
Starbound Flotilla	When it comes to this situation, George decides to pursue the same business away from the Flotilla. He is, after all, the weakest of all of them, and that generally means that when it comes to smaller-time dangers, he earns his keep by handling the whole group's work. "Eeeeexperimentation. Gotta be testing stuff. 'Mad sociology', used to hear it called." He says, wandering in, chatting with Lezard and Haguro. "Dunno the deal. It's always some justification." He taps his chin. He doesn't need fancy scanners or super-skills for this, all he needs is a pair of eyes. And he /mostly/ has those, despite his age. He splits off from most of the group, scanning about specifically for two things: A strong presence of people who seem to be pushing something socially, or a complete lack of them. If there's something going on here, and it needs more social things the way the Circus did, he's gotta look for a cultural pusher, or for... an absence of any cultural pushes, which is itself the calling card of someone who knows that something else will transform the society dangerously on its own, and needs to prevent it.
Lezard Valeth	Lezard looks over at Haguro with a steady, neutral expression. "Perhaps." he replies. "But who knows how we would find it. This land is so... /banal/." He sighs, letting Haguro direct him along as he moves with her to the blacksmith. Something about this place just seems to dull his senses, making him not want to exert himself fully.
Bloody Revelations	The mead is pretty decent. Better than just okay, at least. As tremendously boring as it is to come to this after a whirlwind romp around all sort of lost ruins, Underworld vistas, and civilizations built upon the First Age, this nowhere fiefdom is still fairly better off than most of the thousands of similar ones in this Direction. It's much more closely representative of the 'average life' here than anywhere they've been so far, but it's also clearly a place that doesn't ever get raided by barbarians, attacked by neighbours, blasted with weather disasters, bullied by local gods and/or elementals, harassed by Fair Folk, or any of the other billion problems that constantly oppress small settlements. It probably doesn't pay taxes either, so the general culture is kind of 'rich trading post' wealthy and indolent, with semi-luxurious drinking halls, sweat lodges, jewelers, and fur posts. A lack of ambition is a way to put it. Touring around, the character of the capital is outright lazy. By looks, one could imagine this populated by rugged men in either historically inaccurate kilts or historically inaccurate horned hats, based on the level of snow, caber tossing and/or raising wolves and/or rigging boats in preparation for the next pillage, but there seems to be no such energy here. Pubs are half-full from midday to dusk, guards doze at their posts, able bodied men play cards and board games under awnings by the road, merchants strike up idle conversation with each other while outside their stores. Haguro will be disappointed. Like a lot of people. The blacksmiths she locates do a lot of decent work, but none of it is in swords and armour; it's entirely civil work, without a single thought to defense. Nobody seems to particularly care for sports, and a great many commoners are surprisingly overweight. George skulking amongst their number finds that, even in their daily conversations, none of them have the slightest interesting thing to talk about. It's all about weather, relatives, the last time they got really drunk, boring stories, random rumours (apparently they've only just heard of Lookshy) and other useless drivel. There isn't a single mention of any kind of social movement whatsoever. He doesn't even get the names of any important political figures, since nobody bothers to talk about them (albeit they'd just be in the big stupid castle probably). It's . . . kind of unnatural. Not necessarily supernatural, but it's not the kind of atmosphere that happens on its own, just because people made a fair chunk of money and stopped being threatened. There's an atmosphere of kind of cavalier decadence and laziness better befitting some Arabian palace rather than a goat herding kingdom with not enough money to be actually buying all the spicy desert drugs and arm candy to look the part.
Bloody Revelations	Frankly, dressed as a warrior at all, Staren draws attention, and is semi-frequently asked why he's bothered to be here. There's no wars in Gradafes, after all. Nobody would dare attack them anyways. People drop the name, of all things, Tear Eaters with all the casual care of talking about the DMV when citing why there's no strife to profit off here. Specifically, that they have some kind of deal with said Tear Eaters, who are presumably fairly scary. Only a couple of them recognize the name of the Circus, and express vague interest in wanting to go there, but also mention that, for whatever reason, it's not allowed to actually set up here. The owner doesn't permit the crew to come to Gradafes itself, instead going back to the Shadowland a few miles to the west, apparently called the Vale of Dust and Shadows. When Azure Armature addresses a guard, it seems as if half the words she said went in through one ear and out the other. She will, in fact, have to repeat herself before he gives her more than a sort of sleepily boggled look. "Huh? You're onnea those . . . you from the satraps?" is all he can muster to ask, unsubtly peering for some of the weird elemental caste marks he's probably heard of but never seen, and finding none because Azure Armature doesn't show a lot of . . . well, face, but also much of anything. "Uhm, normally it all just gets exported, I think." He thinks? "You'd probably want the house that makes that stuff for the king, right? You're supposed to basically be kings in the satraps, right?" He points to the castle. "Head on inside. Just tell them that you have a lot of money and want to buy." That's it? That's the level of security around the castle?
Haguro	"It... Is, yes. I don't think I've ever seen a place this boring. It's so strange." Haguro's looking dejected at first when her seemingly smart (to her) idea turns out to not really get them any information at all. Putting two and two together with what George mentions about mad sociology, though, things start to click for her! Maybe. "Mister George. This.. I think this really is a social experiment. Who else would have the sort of power and... /Time/ to even pull off something this odd? No security, no weapons, no... Excitement?" Haguro gestures around at all the locals, even gesturing around her midsection as a point of comparison. "Perhaps... Hm. Could it be a way to make the Circus even more appealing in comparison?"
Staren	It is kind of an attention-getting disguise, but an armored warrior could at least be from this planet and not automatically caught up in exalted shenanigans. Just passing through, he says. Staren was expecting the town to be barely getting by. People to not have enough time for anything but drudgery, and so be eager for the delights of the circus. But that's not the case. They're well-off, considering, and have ample time for recreation... but they don't seem to be /doing/ anything but hanging out in the tavern. Once again, Staren can't exactly put his finger on what's going on, but... the lack of... not just ambition, but /passion/ in this town... Staren can feel, suddenly, some shadow of what it is that horrifies Gilgamesh. He's not sure if /he's/ okay with it, either. But Tear Eaters are mentioned, and somehow a circus controlled by a /Deathlord/ 'isn't allowed' to set up here. Perhaps it doesn't need to be. Could the Tear Eaters have taken tribute from this town in more than just money? So, who are these Tear Eaters, where are they, and what is the nature of the deal? If they're reticent to tell, he offers silver coins to loosen tongues.
Lezard Valeth	Lezard shrugs, continuing to drink his ale. It'll run out eventually, and then he'll just leave the mug someplace it's not supposed to be. Maybe some janitorial staff or something will come by and return it to the bartender. He doesn't care. He visibly ignores the excuses for gossip and rumors. "Do you believe so, Haguro? Perhaps. This place seems almost intentionally too boring to remain at. I have been wanting to leave almost since I've gotten here." He looks to George and his attempts to figure out the local social cues. "What do you believe it would take to fashion a place like this, George?" He doesn't begin practicing forbidden arts just yet. There seems to be some dissension on the matter.
Starbound Flotilla	George's approach to this takes an odd turn. He recognizes this in the worst possible way: This mentality, this entire sociological structure, is middle-management. Somehow, middle-management emotional dullness has infested the mentality of even the people working in the fields with goats. He wonders, then: Has it infected the king as well? So his next approach is to link back up with those heading to the castle. His intention is to meet with the ruler and... well, do what one always does when dealing with middle management. Demand to escalate the issue to a higher authority.
Azure Armature	This dirt (goat, actually) farmer town guard looks at Azure Armature. Azure Armature looks back. She is forced to repeat herself. She does so. It is the exact same lines, right down to the gestures and (utter lack of) inflections. When she gets her answer, she nods. "I am... yes. Whatever you guessed I was. You are correct. Congratulations." After a pause, she continues. "The castle, then. Also, have you recently partaken of any fete of pleasure, drugs, and masked-or-otherwise naked sexual objects be them chattel or people?" She doesn't expect a real response, waving off to go right to the castle. "PEOPLE OF THIS CASTLE, I am from... the satraps. I am known as the 'Blue Death', a powerful exalted warrior of the realm, and I desire a new scarf. I have been told to say that I am fiscally flush and bear both capital and coin of a large amount, so please capitalistically service my petty needs with rapidity."
Lezard Valeth	Lezard watches George come to his conclusions silently and as he goes to the castle, Lezard's gaze follows. "Mmm." He hums to himself, getting George's idea immediately. "I will catch up." As he speaks, he turns and gestures to whoever the nearest local is, beckoming them closer. Before he can be regaled about the weather or anything, however, Lezard simply slugs the man in the gut, then kicks their legs out from under them, planting a boot on their back so they can't stand up. "I have had enough of this pretense. " Lezard says. "If there is to be a response, let them come. Haguro, if anyone tries to stop me, do shoot them?" His hand stretches out, and Lezard begins to rampantly draw in ambient Essence, causing the usual flare of light around him. Why bother being subtle? "Body, mind, soul. All are sheared away...." Casually, Lezard seems to be perfectly intent on performing a forbidden ritual right there in the open, as if daring someone to attempt to intervene.
Haguro	There's some visible discomfort in Haguro's posture at the notion of casually tearing out someone's soul, but she fights it down enough to manage a slow nod to Lezard. "R... Right. I'll watch your back." It's for the greater good. It'll help these people in the long run, even if some of them might get irreparably jacked up now. It'll be fine. ^She just has to keep telling herself that while she's checking her turrets, her revolver, and standing by in case she needs to clothesline someone particularly brave.
Bloody Revelations	It kind of seems like they'd probably just tell Staren anyways, until he mentions silver, and then they immediately make it very obvious that they'll totally only say anything if he offers the silver. Yep. That's how this town works as of the second he mentions coins. Always did. Retroactively. Yeah, they're those kinds of people. According to what the cityfolk know from inside their middlingly cushy walls, the Tear Eaters are a tribe of feared barbarians that roam the North, partly as a living offshoot of the Icewalkers, but mostly the tribe is a gigantic Mongol-esque horde of ghosts that co-occupy the same territory in the Underworld, that come out at night and ransack anything they come across. They all apparently worship some kind of tribal shaman overlords called 'The Great Dead'. Some kind of diplomatic treaty was brokered by a Knight of the Lover some time in the past, wherein Grafedes pays a tribute, and the Tear Eaters can be called on to defend the nation against invasion, though no king has ever needed to do so. It's all kings, too. The last 17 of them. Around the same time, there were some reforms that only men could step up to the throne or any political position of importance, for whatever reason. Nobody seems to think of it as important. They don't seem to believe the Tear Eaters will ever need to be actively called upon, just due to being such a passively intimidating presence, and the fact that the current king is some kind of close ally of (and unsubtly implied lover to) the super powerful lady ghost that the Tear Eaters bow to. Their tone speaking of the king is slightly condescending and disrespectful of only the middlesome, 'goofy an excessively mediocre nobody governor' variety. They don't think much of it, or that there's much need of concern for things like leadership and security. They insist that it all just regulates itself, and they're fine like this, so what's the problem? Nobody really knows why the Circus doesn't come here. They seem to be aware, at least, that the Circus Moribund is something almost entirely patronized by the Lover, though not that her Deathknight runs (well, ran) it, nor why she'd prohibit it going here. The Alchemical's questions about bizarro circus drug orgy bullshit falls on mostly just confused ears. The indolently self-satisfied mediocrity and soullessness of this place seems to have been kept sharply separate of all the high-flying degeneracy the Circus had peddled in the Lover's name. Like, well, a separate experiment, really. Azure Armature can basically thank that everyone in the castle is adding 'sheltered' to the 'bumpkin' class template when she barges in with those words, mostly just causing them to all look very befuddled at the apparently rich foreigner. What a strange way of speaking. Clearly they're an exotic and eccentric individual. Besides, if they were allowed in the castle, they must be okay, right? That's the general undercurrent, murmured by people who clearly haven't ever met their guards.
Bloody Revelations	It takes an amount of time that'd be genuinely unprofessional elsewhere for the Help to come scurrying out, and then addressing her about as one would usually expect from decently trained servants to a modestly wealthy royal household, not unprofessional in their actual duties as they offer to take her things and sweep her through the halls, unescorted by anyone with weapons or real muscles, to a wing of the keep apparently dedicated to a sort of 'women's wing' affair, where all of the female help, residents, and royal relatives, apparently hang around doing cooking and tailoring and herbalism and those sorts of things (oddly, accounting is apparently included). They seem moderately more ill at ease by her presence, but still seem like the kind of animal that has had all of its fear of anything bred out of it, and is just waiting to be trustingly hit by a car. Indeed, they do actually have piles of cashmere wool, and a few seem to be, rather than careerists who do it to make a living, pampered hobbyists who do clothes for the ruling family and wealthy merchants, who gladly gouge the living fuck out of her for their services, chattering all the while. George frankly barely needs to try any harder to get in. He can just sort of George at it. The DC is so low and his check is so high that anything but a natural 1 would put him through. He gets the name 'Aolan Graf-Chani' quickly enough, as the current king, treated with all the reverence of a lower middle manager talking about his upper middle manager, and enough hassling and pestering at people eventually sees him make reluctant progress, especially for being so ~foreign~. A private page is finally sent to run off to speak to the king (apparently in the middle of a meal (at 3pm), but the only real difficulty with a random stranger getting into a room with the king is the number of stupid checkpoints he has to go through and how many times he has to answer the same stupid questions. He does, eventually, end up in a riced up throne room on the upper levels of the castle, with real windows, a nice view, a throne gilded in silver and goat horn, sat near an empty, identical one, lavish rugs and banners, and a heavily overweight man at least as old as George, begrudgingly squeezed into his seat, without an ounce of actual regality, who looks very much as if he'd like this to be over with so he can go back to drinking.
Bloody Revelations	Lezard has to call an infuriating number of times, like beckoning a retarded dog that never learned commands well. When he actually gets a fat farm manager to break away from his tile game and waddle over though, the complete stranger is woefully unprepared for being attacked on the spot, and goes down as if he's beating up an overweight toddler. This, at least, causes some manner of commotion, though everyone mostly just stands around staring and gasping and not really knowing what to do beyond that. It's when the light flares up that some people finally think to run off, and a few of the guards show up, looking rattled, but basically willing to point weapons at him. There's a round of disorganized, top-of-lungs yelling at him, like police officers without orders to fire all trying to scream PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD over each other all at once for five minutes solid of a liveleaks video, before they realize it isn't really working, and one of them stupidly (rather than bravely) lowers his spear and charges at Lezard, howling a battlecry all the way.
Staren	Staren watches. He... doesn't think this is the best way to do this, but it's progress, there's something really off about this town, and people's reactions will be useful data as well. Eventually town guards show up. Staren slowly stands from his seat at the bar. When he sees one finally lower a spear into attack position he's on him like a shot, moving with robotic speed to yank him back by the collar. (Maybe Haguro beats him to it, but he'll deliver the same lecture afterwards either way) "You wanna die for no reason, guy? Come on. Everyone knows that when a wizard is doing magic and shows no concern for whether he'll be interrupted, it's because he /can't/ be interrupted. If you're lucky he has a shield up, and if you're unlucky, he could turn you inside out or melt your bones or something with the flick of a finger. Stand down, all of you, and I'll try to convince him to put your friend's soul back into his body when he's done. Assuming there's even anything left there and he wouldn't be better off going to Lethe."
Haguro	That settles that, then. Haguro's been standing near Lezard vaguely menacingly without aiming at anyone in particular while he works his magic. When that guard charges forward, she utters a quick apology before moving to intercept the spearman. WITH HER FISTS. More specifically, a fist to the gut that, assuming all goes well, transitions into her hoisting him overhead to try and look like she's lifting him effortlessly. Easier said than done, of course, but she needs to show off at least a little bit to get some more street cred! "He's doing it to help you all, as... Questionable as it might look." Haguro pointedly does /not/ look back at Lezard as she tosses the guard back towards his allies, nodding towards Staren a moment later. "If you stop him, then he may... Erm. Do all of those things, yes."
Lezard Valeth	Lezard makes sure to put another kick into the farm manager's side for making him wait before he begins. The Necromancer's concentration is far too strong to be stopped by a bunch of weaklings yelling HALT CRIMINAL SCUM and other classic phrases that he also igores completely. His hands claw in the air as he continues to do his dark work, ignoring the man charging at him as he trusts Haguro and Staren have this handled. Some of the few people he trusts to do /anything/ useful. "If to serve this purpose I shall be despised, my body scorched and blackened, so be it." His power extends into the man, beginning to dig around in search of the man's soul so he can begin extracting it. Simple. Efficient. /Absolutely Haram/. "If to serve this purpose I must command forbidden magicks, so be it! Though my body may be tainted, though my soul may be tainted, I imbue thee with thought..." Unless something surprising happens, the man's body will promptly go dormant as his soul begins to be extracted from his flesh, the bonds severed between them as if with a magical scalpel as he begins to drag it into the air over him. Meanwhile, Haguro and Staren begin convincing people that Lezard ripping out someone's soul is good for them. He'd laugh if he wasn't busy incanting.
Azure Armature	There's a long moment of analysis. A good walk through things. The womens' wing. Hobbyists. Being gouged for luxury goods. Useful work happening. Docility. Armature allows herself to be gouged like hell for a probably-not-even-Perfect-or-Exceptional new scarf. With some finality, she draws out something that looks like a breadboard and taps a few things into the piece of technical equipment. "If a large robot - a construct in the shape of a person - or an army of people that vaguely look like me sweep in, hand them this. It will save you from annihilation." Taking her scarf in a flourish, she disappears in a bright flash of math, reappearing as Lezard Valeth, SORCERER OF MIDGARD tears a dude's soul out to inspect it. "This place appeals to my sensibilities of the Lever-Puller class of society and is completely docile. Since this is Creation, it is clearly a trap and a constructed situation, as not a single operative or moron with a sword has jumped out at me. It is, apparently, as it plainly appears. What have you found, Lezard?"
Starbound Flotilla	George wanders right in to see the king. He's clocked these bastards and he figures their shenanigans. "Alright. Yeah, this isn't up to code. You are /not/ gonna make it, what, maybe eight more seasons like this?" He opens on the king, not even waiting for him. He's already got a... clipboard out. Do they have clipboards in Creation? Honestly, clipboards are a universal concept. "I'm gonna need to talk to your superiors. Can you put me through to the brass? This is a mess. We just got done with an actual circus full of real clowns for your top guys, this is kinda like that." He's not speaking the actual issue, not yet at least. He'd much rather immediately bluster his way past the issue. He makes /impatient clipboard motions/, writing something on it, clicking a pen rapidly, the works. "Where do you do your reports again? I'll go on the next one." He says, looking to snag a point of contact to pursue.
Bloody Revelations	Haguro picking up and flexing on the bravest (also possibly dumbest) guard is obviously met with even more of an uproar, sending most of the actual citizenry fleeing now, and a couple of guards turning tail and going with them. When she flings him back and Staren grabs hold of him, he looks too dazed and scared to really make much of a fuss about being lectured for trying to stop a citizen's soul from getting ripped out, and when both of them corroborate that Lezard would probably just melt his bones or something equally grisly, he scrambles out of Staren's grip and joins the rest in running towards the palace. 'Alert the king!' and all that. 'Sorcerers! He'll know what to do!' and such. Meanwhile, the king couldn't possibly look any more bored and disgruntled at having to sit in his king chair and pretend to do king things. The bearded man appears to be every bit as utterly fatuous as there even being a throne room here, with his equally riced up horn crown and crook-shaped sceptre, blinged out from its simple shepherding symbolic origins with trade income. He basically doesn't pay any attention at all to George for most of his ramble about reports, staring at his clipboard tapping mostly out of the source of motion being something to follow with his eyes rather than actually look at George and figure out what he's saying, occasionally punctuating the babble with a royal 'harrumph' or a 'proceed'-style nod of the head, blatantly tuning him out. He then starts talking over George in a way that makes it even clearer that he skimmed the highlighted words in the briefing, sighing "As I've said before, the Circus Moribund is no official associate of Graf-Vindak, nor bases its business here, nor do we reap any profits owed or imagined from its operation. As for code, the annual tribute is to be paid next month, and will proceed as scheduled. There is no cause for-" His supremely bored droning is interrupted right about then with the dramatic 'page bursts into the throne room to yell something about a soul-stealing sorcerer in town', down to the echoing door bang and several seconds of breathless panting (really, he had to run up like, what, five flights of stairs? everyone here is really out of shape). Rather than immediately derailing the meeting however, it makes the king suddenly . . . not quite perk up, but his countenance subtly shifts from bored and blithering useless bullshit, to suddenly recognizing something of significance happening in front of him, and carefully, cannily, testing the waters. "Would that sorcerer be yours?" he points at George, sorta kinda making it accusatory, but sorta kinda leaving it an open question. "Yes, the . . . superiors." He takes on his most authoritative, still sounding kida sketchy, air with the page. "Tell the commoners to return to their homes. We will sort this out. I will personally venture to the Palace of the Black Ram, and discuss this matter with my grandfather." Finally getting out of his seat (with some comical squeezing and wiggling), Graf-Chani claps George on the shoulder with a big meaty palm, and says "Of course, I'll need you to come and file the report." he says, briefly looking side to side. "It is the appointed time, after all. Yes. It looks just like the Appointed Time. Bring your friends. Or rather, bring all of your friends who know about." He looks side to side again. "The other place."
Starbound Flotilla	"Yeah, we've come with a full group. Sorcerer, technician, bodyguard, transport." George says, not looking up from his clipboard. He is drawing a doodle of a stick figure of Lezard, with big angry eyebrows and a wide grin full of teeth, strangling a ghost out of a man. "They know, don't worry." He finishes up his doodle, where Lezard is saying "RAAAARRRR" in big text. He underlines it several times, and then clicks his pen and sets it away. "Glad to get this fixed up fast. We'll meet you soon." He walks on out, ready to inform the group of the results of his bullshitting meeting, and to thank Lezard for his help in the matter.
Lezard Valeth	A basic show of force from Haguro is more than enough to scare off the green guards-in-name-only, followed by some logic and facts from Staren. Excellent. At this point, Lezard is completing his work. This is not a Combat Time scale ritual, and it shows with how long it takes and how easy it would have been for them to interfere had they had any spine and suicidal tendencies. Still, that didn't happen, and as such Lezard reaches the end of his rite. "I swear as the gods swear, and breathe life into the void!" There is a flash of light, and the soul of the man is completely removed, floating there like a ghost. Technically he WOULD be a ghost now if Lezard just let him go, but that's not why he went through all this trouble. With a flick of his hand and an application of additional power, the ghost is surrounded in blue light and condensed into a fist-sized blue crystal. He holds it up to the light, as if inspecting a jewel, and gives the contents a cursory inspection. "Mmmm..." He hums, and then turns and casually tosses it to Staren with a negligent underhand, again demonstrating how little he values the captive soul. "What do you make of it, Staren?" He asks. He doesn't expect Staren would know how to answer. The crystal, at least, is simply solidified energy, used as a matrix to store the soul. It's rather fragile. What, you expected him to use some of his REAL crystal containers on this? That would be such a waste of prime Lordran goods.
Staren	Staren really does assume Lezard, as an Experienced Evil Wizard, has ways to stop interlopers, and intervened for the guard's safety, not Lezard's. Funny, that. So, soul magic! That's something you don't get to see too often working with heroes. Staren watches curiously, recording everything. He waits for Lezard to make his diagnosis... and then, nothing?! Staren catches the crystal automatically, stares at it, then back at Lezard. "I don't know! I haven't really studied the, anatomy and physiology of souls! I just have tools that can move them around, and can tell them apart with said tools, and maybe can sometimes detect damage with said tools in a format I'm used to dealing with." Staren carefully holds the crystal out between thumb and forefinger. "I've never worked with /crystallized/ souls. What do /you/ make of it, did you see anything unusual about it?"
Lezard Valeth	"Then use this to expand your horizons." Lezard replies with a smile. "Use it well. The process of learning how to observe the crystal should not take long for you." He turns away. "As for what I have learned, well... I will tell you later. Come along." He says, walking towards the palace. The guards won't want to be in his way.