Script

A Man Called Gar "Really, when isn't it dangerous?" Gar amusingly said. "But if she gets aggressive it rather tidies up her intentions, no?" Gar smirked, waved and headed out.

Xenia and a Called Gar "Him, careful? Ha." Xenia snorted. "Hm?" It might make it tricky if things went the way he wanted it to, even if there was no risk. "Well, I do have prep to do along the way, and that would mean we could leave right now and work on the way instead of waiting, minimize downtime." Raquel wasn't a threat to any of his contingency plans and wasn't one to blab... But maybe this one was... "Sure," he replied. "You can come." A good test.

A Man Called Gar "That's... why I'm waiting for Raquel to get the general area...?" Gar was rather confused at the line. "The woman's gonna be at the center of a storm, just the outskirts and I could pinpoint her room in a blink." Gar looked over at the other speaker. "If Palace security lets her in that quick I'd have no trouble getting in."

A Man Called Gar "I don't see anyone else volunteering," he chuckled. "But all I'm going to do is talk. Well, unless she starts something, but that's what contingencies are for."

A Man Called Gar "I thought it rather obvious," Gar shrugged, "but I'm gonna go pay miss empress-face a visit."

Xenia With the possible threat this imposter posed 'twasn't likely the prince's bodyguard was gonna go gallivanting around some forest on hearsay. Still the best shot at this point though. A Man Called Gar "If we're done, I'll be heading out once I get that location," said Gar.

A Man Called Gar "I don't need specifics on the personages," said Gar. "That's your own prerogative. Just the numbers would due."

Gar and Xenia Xenia frowned. "Well, it was worth a shot..." Gar asked, "So, does that mean you can check how many emblem wielders there are in total?"

Xenia "Don't suppose there's any chance of finding Boscovitch too?" Xenia asked.

A Man Called Gar He had the gist of it. "That's assuming she'd keep the face after the deed is done." He scoffed. "Even if she got caught, they'd just plan around it." And the worst enemy of all plans was sheer unpredictability. "Raquel, if you can still track her, where is she?"

Xenia Everything sort of fell into place for Xenia, all at once. The puzzle was solved. She announced, "They're gonna use the fake Yelena to assassinate the prince and give Fox his shot at the throne." Gar snorted.

One Word: Gar Gar decided to waive his newest brilliant plan until after the latest attempt to convince people of the truth failed so he could overwhelm everyone with his brilliance once more. Confident in the complete lack of forthcoming support from the highest echelons, he'd decided to stick near Raquel (and her father) while she trained. It was far from the most exciting period in his life. Raquel didn't need distractions (not that he was much of one when he kept silent), and her pops was by her side, so Gar set himself up in an effective location in the bar to keep tabs on things. Said tab keeping would soon spot Raquel's father making a good attempt at a tab himself, before getting flagged down by some woman. A normal person might take it for a bit of harmless talk or flirting. A paranoid person would it was some sort of scheme. Gar, knowing full and utterly well something like common reasoning had waved goodbye to the world a lifetime ago (it'd only been weeks, right?), knew this was something. Since he fully trusted each of the goon squads trying to kill Raquel, this might be a distraction. Even if his contract was broken, she was still a lighthouse of trouble guiding in shipholds of calamity and the same people Gar wanted flayed. Gar left proper coinage on the table, signaled a barmaid and silently drifted towards Raquel's direction upstairs. He didn't expect anyone to be keeping eyes on him, but if they somehow escaped his notice he wasn't gonna lead them directly over to her. Xenia Didn't matter where it was. Didn't matter who it was. Men in power always had that same deep scowl of 'screw everyone else'. Xenia knew plenty of people who'd say the council would be getting their proper reward for letting the fallen threat dive them down. But Xenia was more concerned with all the completely unrelated folks who'd go down with'em. She sighed. She'd no idea where to get one of those guardian guys and the looks given around meant it was a shared feelin'.

All in.

A Return After so many little walks away from everything he was an expert at walking right back where he needed to be. Back in their delightful new home base it wasn't hard to know that everyone would be congregating in the dining hall, as usual. "What's new?" he put out. Xenia Great. Raj was back. Xenia rolled her eyes at her girlish hope he wouldn't be around to muck things up.

Hrm. Well, for what it's worth, I've finally managed to get my schedule cleared up enough for my activity to resume soon.

Xenia She expected misinterpretation, but whatever. XANTHIPPE wasn't much to go trottin' around in some forest. "Think I'm gonna be sittin' this one out," said Xenia. "I don't know if I can even get out of this arrangement, and XANTHIPPE, dear girl, isn't nimble enough to be walkin' around woods anymore." She'd seriously have to start thinking of getting a new mount soon. "I'll try and come up with something else, to earn my keep here at least." Not that she could. Talk is Cheap There were other locations he needed to check. Investigate. Appropriate. But there was only one other piece of outstanding business. Last Rights. All-day, all-night bar sitting at that perfect balance of affordable and clean. One night a raunchy noble might drop by, or the next some common who'd gotten a bit of extra pay from shoveling shit. At the moment, it was well-packed but even quick glance could spy open seats. It wasn't late enough for the floodgates of melancholic commoners to come flooding in trying to drown their sorrows. Just the ones without work. He took up one of the three remaining seats at the bar, and a look at the bartender brought her over. Bushy red hair, deep blue eyes, loads of make-up and a dress that accented her figure. Vesta. "What'll you have?" she asked, a wink with it. Keep up the facade, always. "Finger of vodka." "Comin' right up." She poured him into a dirty glass and he paid for the swill. "Don't get many Rexians up here. What's your business, hun? If you don't mind me askin'?" "I'm here to hunt." "Certainly better pickin's than that desert." Lousy desert. "Something like that." "Oh? My, my, maybe this is a hunt of a different kind? I know a girl or two with a thing for your types, if your types happen to have a lot of gold on hand." "Stop teasin' the boy, Vanessa," some half-drunk slop broke in. "Now, now, Dima, you know I only have an eye for the bar." "To the wails of every man here!" "Cheer!" "And some of the women too!" some woman added in. "Cheer!" "You lot sure do make a girl feel loved." She was probably blushing beneath the make-up. "Drinks are half-off for the next five minutes!" "ya-ha!" Vesta got to pouring out drinks for the whole rest of the bar while Gar subtly poured away his drink. "Had a hunter blow through, not long before you," she said after finishing her task. "Strong, silent type. Really loved his guns." What was Boss doing here? "And?" "Maybe I know where he went if you wanna go huntin' together." Something big was going on? "I'm here to hunt ravens, I doubt he is." "Ravens?" The implication caught her off-guard. "They're not... easy, around here..." "Got a trusted source on this." "I see... well, good hunting." "Thanks for the drink." He left. The Guild would know.

Warning The only sounds were the food being prepared. Both of them. No trust. Not even here. She asked. They all asked. They knew why. They all learned. A meal ate in silence. Always so chatty elsewhere. Guilt? No, never. There was nothing more to be said. One did not need to describe "green" grass. No, there was one thing. He set aside his rice. "The fallen may be attacking soon." "What." "Make sure things are ready in case you need to leave immediately." They should always be ready. "If you don't see me again soon, leave. Head south." "No, seriously, even for one of your 'jokes' this is lousy." "Stay if you want, that's your choice. Just pass it along to Klara and Elena." Maya slammed her bowl down. "Dammit, you always do this! Can't you have a meal that doesn't involve blood and death for once?" "Never." Maya grunted at the typical reply. "Typical. Absolutely typical." She pushed her face into her hands in frustration. "Fine. We'll throw away our livelihood on a whim." She peeked out between her fingers. "Wouldn't be the first time." "Your lives are your own." She sighed. "No, no they're not." He finished his rice and left.

Xenia "If I may offer another option on this persuadin' plan," Xenia interjected. "Don't bring the demon to them, bring them to the demons. Gotta be someone in their camps so trusted if they say 'demons are coming' it'll convince their master demons are coming."

Xenia to Dining Hall After mulling over her shitty options for a while, Xenia headed to the dining hall. Maybe some food would get her nice 'n settled. The conversation, less so.

Vanishing Act Gar vanished the moment the conversation died. Only to eventually reappear when the transport to Rusayez Manor occurred. Not that he stayed long there anyway. The moment he was boots-on-the-ground he left once more. He covered his tracks and made damn sure no one was following him. A song of blood and death on his mind the whole way through. No more quarter-ass Gar. After another few loops to make double-damn sure nothing could possibly be following him. He inspected the outer grounds. The stone and metal fencing was still in good order. Clean and tidy. Still his height and a half. Nothing was out of shape. Good. He approached the gate and inserted a key into the lock. It opened up unto his property and he quietly shut it behind him. Nothing was out of place here either. The lawn was in good care, the walkway to the house was still in shape. The porch hadn't been ransacked or bore burn marks. He inspected the house proper. There hadn't been any sort of obnoxious scarring on the first floor's stonework. The windows were still in good condition and a good tug told him the double-bolts were still working strong. Both doors however, had suffered some damage. Words would be had on that. But the frames were still in tact, so whomever had tried to force entry hadn't succeeded. So it was recent enough that they hadn't gotten round to replacing them. All the windows were still intact with his markings. Not that he could check the second story. The awnings were only useful to break downward momentum, they'd crumple if anyone stood on them. No trying to sneak in through the second floor. He entered in through the back. Though he'd been sharp to make sure no one spotted his checks on the house from outside, no one was inside anyway. He checked all the rooms, double-checked them, checked the secret rooms, and the secret rooms they didn't think he knew about and the attic. Empty entirely. He'd run of the place. Good. He needed the time. First, he set his glory belt in the room with three full others. He wanted a new one for the fun to come. Second, he stored his extraneous items. His travel clothes. His hair clippings. His random bits of odd n' ends. The flute. Third, he replenished his supplies. He drew water from the barrels, boiled it, and stored it in his flasks. He retrieved food and apples. Sword polish, threads, money. Little else. He'd no longer need to sequester his pouches at the beginning of combat. Fourth, he had to settle his equipment options. He exchanged his clothing for a new set. Double-layered. He could turn his new long-sleeved shirt and pants inside out for a new combination of colors. This was useful for losing trails or hiding bloodstains. The double-thickness made it hard to seep through. He chose a new set of boots on the same principal. A lighter shade of brown, with some bottles of darker polish to alter it should the need be. Fifth: Then came the altering of his armor. It had proven well to help thus far but he needed new flexibility. Not just in combat. He carefully segmented the pieces and began to rearrange them to the patterns and situated he needed. It would offer less protection overall, but increase the speed of his draw and overall infiltration abilities. By carefully integrating the stilettos into concealed locations on the armor, and bounding things together with leather, he could pass muster on curiosity searches. A through search could find it, but a through search was irrelevant. Sixth: Modifying his new clothes to accommodate his offensive changes. Opening up the cuffs to allow swift access to the dozen knives strapped to his forearms. Loosening up the collar for a quick removal if need be. Shortening the side just a tad to allow swift access to those knives. Seventh: Maintenance on the knives he did have. The stilettos were still in excellent condition, as to be expected of Weyland craftsmanship. Old Stabby however, needed to be put down. It was a liability at this point. Sentimentality or no. The front gate creaked. He knew how to open it without the noise signaling everyone. They didn't, and their attempts to oil it away always failed. He hid himself near the front stairs as the front door was opened. She didn't bother checking the perimeter, didn't bother checking the rooms for entry. She went straight to the kitchen with her hands full with grocery baskets. "You're dead," he grunted in a voice entirely unlike his own. "Ah!" she yelped, spun around and leveled a pistol at him. "Tor!" "Shoot first: confirm later." "Your hair..." "Where's Klara?" "At her job. She's working as a bouncer at a pub." 'Skotians never stopped drinking. "How's Elena's schooling coming along?" "She hates it. She screams and pouts and doesn't want to learn." She shook her head. "But she'll have a better future than any of us." "You?" Maya lowered her pistol. "I've gotten a new job as a noblewoman's servant." She shook her head. "We can't rely on your money forever..." Good. "Don't forget what I taught you." "Are you gonna stay for breakfast?" "Yes." "Oh." She was taken aback. "I... it's been years..." Her gaze drifted to Old Stabby. "Still carrying that around...?" "'Til the day there's nothing left to stab."

Worried Woman Xenia chewed on her nails as she paced some corridor in the Rusayex Manor. A childish habit, she knew, she hadn't done it since Dirk was on the frontlines. But Raj's stupid display had her worried. The whole bundle of issues with Raquel had set him off like she'd never seen before, but he hadn't gone and given her the go-ahead to leave. It was impossible to heal the Raquel he contracted her to heal. She should be free. He was an ass, but he was a consistent ass. He didn't much go back on his word. She might need to hire some goons.

Called "Good," he flourished. Not that he believed in him but that frustration was evident enough.

Called "A lot of things that shouldn't be happening are happening." He tightened his fists. "Fine, your establishment is beyond suspicion. If it's still there, my house burned down, maybe your's did. I don't know, but there's been enough bad coincidences and turns of luck to leave things up to one plan. That's why we're all here chattin' about it."

Called Feh, always had to leave this in the wrong hands. "We'll need multiple secure locations to warp to in reasonable distance from each other. Too suspicious otherwise. And this could help bring in the assistance I mentioned quicker." The more people seeking that gate the less time he had to waste on it when he could be on the hunt.

Called "A little show would be perfect for what I have in mind." Fire, fire, burn. "If there's nothing tying Bosconovitch by the time we get there.