Big Trouble in Little Emberstrand
It's morning, the sun just risen an hour past, not that one could tell for the low gray clouds that threaten rain. The streets are damp, puddles littered about, evidence of a dose of rainfall over the past night. People are slow to start moving about this morning due to the chill and the seemingly oppressive gloom of the weather...
Ka'Len steps from the orphanage and then peers up at the sky before making a face and sighing. "Rain or no I better get to the school.. Doubtless other nobles will be keeping their children home." He wrinkles his nose up and then looks behind him while pulling a cloak on.
Mordecai steps out behind the lad... The older man having donned his own cloak in preparation of the foul weather that has been plagueing the city for a while. Shifting pale gaze over to the younger man, he rumbles in that gruff baritone of his, "I'll walk you to school, then, lad. I have some errands to run anyway."
Ka'Len tilts his head a little before he smiles some, "an escort to the school? I'm not used to that sort of thing. Thanks." He grins at Mordecai for a moment and then steps away from the school, starting to make his way through the quiet slums while avoiding the puddles. "As long as we're going the same direction then."
Mordecai straightens his cloak and slips the hood over his head, before he proceeds to follow the lad, easily keeping up with his long striders- and seemingly not caring much about the various puddles, having enough confidence in his sturdy leather boots. He shrugs broad shoulders as he moves in step alongside Ka'Len, "Atleast I'm not offering you my arm. I think the other students wouldn't let you hear the end of it." He grins at him, before adding, "I could use the walk, either way."
After a while, the pair passes the narrow mouth of a slum alley, and a faint noise reaches them. It's a particular kind of noise, one an experienced fighter or soldier might recognize: The sound of a large group of voices raised in a chorus of anger and violence and occasionally pain. In short, a fight, and a rather large one by the sound.
"No they wouldn't... and I can just imagine some of the comments and jibes I'd get over... that." Len slows his steps and tilts his head towards the sound of the fight. A hesitant look coming to his face as he looks around then back towards Mordecai. "Maybe... maybe we should call the guard? Sounds like someone's in trouble." Definately not the type to rush in blindly.
Mordecai is both an experienced fighter AND soldier. Or atleast he was for most of his adult life before some... incidents which culminated in him ending up in Emberstrand, running an orphanage. As such, he's automaticly drawn towards these sounds of violence, pausing at the mouth of the alley and peering in... Listening to Ka'Len's comments before he answers, "The guard? They don't show themselves here..." He hrms, and glances back at the lad, "Do you want me to take a look? Or do we move on? It is up to you, lad."
Ka'Len chews on his lip and frowns before glancing at Mord then back. "Well.. safety in numbers... maybe it's just two gangs fighting and we can leave them be, right?" He hesitates and then takes a breath, "let's take a look. Can't believe I'm doing this." And Len starts to slip into the alleyway, secure in the knowledge that well they can always run or turn away.
Mordecai nods some... Before he slips into the alley himself, moving carefully, silent, and tactically. Staying close to the left wall, and quietly motioning with one hand to indicate you should keep behind him. He slides forward like that, watching his step, and attempting to let his pale eyes adjust to the gloom so he can get a sense of what's ahead, even as he moves ever closer toward the commotion...
The alley is narrow, only wide enough for a small cart at most. The atmosphere darkens the deeper in one goes as well, seeming tighter, closer, an effect of the buildings to each side rising higher, until they are three and four floor tenaments, tiny balconies jutting out here and there, and empty laundry lines strung across the gap. Mist hides in corners near puddles among the cobblestones, until it almost seems like another world, one that feels somewhat deserted. And, the farther in you go, the louder the sounds of fighting become, the voices now accompanied by the faint clash of weapons. The alley twists and turns, others sometimes joining it at small irregular intersections, until, quite suddenly, the alley opens into a long, curving courtyard of sorts, or maybe it's just a wider alley, and the sound of battle grows suddenly louder, which is due to the fact that this is where the fight is happening. The scene is chaos, looking like a funeral procession that was interrupted by a gang war at the far end of the alley court. Easily eighty to one hundred men are in a fine melee, seeming equal number of men in black with gold sashes and men in black with red sashes; the colors of the two opposing sides. And in the middle, seeming completely ignored by the combatants that battle around them as if they aren't even there, are two men riding a draft chocobo, the lead being a tall burly man in peasant clothes, the man behind him smaller, and oriental (like all the combatants around the steed), and dressed in a slightly more formal, though by no means expensive, suit with coat and hat. They look scared, naturally; who wouldn't be. But they've yet to get a scratch on them, despite what carries on around them.
Ka'Len follows after Mordecai at a steady pace. Though the way that the man is moving causes the younger to tilt his head a little bit. His thoughts are lost though when they arrive at the enterance to the courtyard and he freezes immediately before stepping behind Mordecai's broader back. A moment later he glances up and whispers, "we should help the ones not involved.." Before leaning around and 'psssting' loudly to try and get the attention of those not involved.
Mordecai slides up to the edge of that courtyard, the man smoothly crouching low in what shadows he can find as he studies the scene up ahead... And after a moment, he's about to motion back for Ka'Len to retreat, and tell him the odds are too much against them to be able to do anything... When Ka'Len starts pssting at nearby people instead. And with a quickness that doesn't really match his age, the older man suddenly moves towards the lad to clasp a hand over his mouth, his expression grim.
Suddenly, the entire dynamic of the battle changes, and the melee comes to a halt as three men in cloaks the color of storm clouds, faces hidden under large straw hats, step out of a side alley between you both and the assembled opposing gangs. The cloaked figures face the crowd, who seem to have forgotten their grudge against eachother and turned to face the trio, who seem completely unphased by the attention. And the two men on the chocobo look completely confused and uncertain. The trio, in an almost ritual way, take out one knife each while the gangs watch, and, without warning, and with a concerted and synchronized flip through the air, lauch their knives into the crown, felling three! All is silent, and the trio procede to pull weapons from their cloaks, while the little besuited oriental man can be heard yelling at his burly companion, "Shit, Jack! Let's get outta here!" And 'Jack' isn't slow to act, either, spuring his draft chocobo into a charge just before the gangs, their grudge now completely forgotten, charge the cloaked trio with a roar, while the trio, avoiding the chocobo (one of them actually jumping -over- it), advance to meet the charging horde! As Mordecai attempts to silence Ka'Len, a door opens behind you both, and a hand grabs each of your shirts by the back, above your belts, tugging insistently, though not hard enough to actually move either of you, an aged and thickly accented voice whispering urgently, "Quickly! In here, fools! That is no place for outsiders to be!"
Ka'Len goes quiet as so as that hand goves over his head and he blinks at Mord before pulling back and spreading his arms in a 'sorry' pose. The unfolding scene causes his eyes to widen and he takes a slow step back before grabbing Mordecai's hand. Yes time to go. The tugging on his shirt has him glancing over his shoulder before he looks at his companion and nods a little, "you take the lead.." but even despite saying that he's stepping towards the door and the accented stranger.
Mordecai blinks hard at the three figures that seemingly appear out of nowhere and attack BOTH gangs. The older man quickly taking in any details about these new arrivals before he feels Ka'Len's hand on his, and then the sensation of being tugged. Looking back as well at the older man, he frowns, before he slips after the fleeing Ka'Len, though his expression still grim, and with the barest hint of distrust.
The stranger turns out not to be a man, but to be a tiny old woman. A really tiny, very old woman, in fact. She seems to be not more than three feet tall, if not less, and is so shriveled and wrinkled that her eyes seem unnaturally large for her head. Wearing green robes trimmed with yellow cuffs on sleeves that are longer than her arms and a small berret-like hat on her head over long whispy white hair, she peers up at you both, using a staff longer than she is tall, with a crooked knobbed head, to reach past you both and pull the door shut, cutting off most of the noise outside. And just a few seconds later, an almost impossibly bright light shines through the crack at the bottom of the door, followed by 'Jack' complaining loudly that he can't see. The old woman, hmph's at the door, then looks to you both again, "Come. Outside is not a place to be at the moment... It is unlikely that the Storms would harm you, but if they are out, then there are worse things walking these streets today that you would not wish to meet." That said, she proceeds down the hallway behind her, the passage narrow and dimly lit by small oil lamps spaced a bit too far apart.
Ka'Len looks at the door with the bright light and blinks before wincing a little. "So it seems.. uh miss.." He looks down at her, head tilting a little bit before looking back at Mordecai. "Worse things?" Though his eyes remain on the orphanage owner he asked the lady obviously before looking after her when she starts down the hall.
Mordecai peers at the tiny old lady... Himself being firmly over the 6 foot range, so positively towering over her. He's momentarily distracted by the bright light however, and he fully well realizes it means nothing good could be happening outside at the moment, so he's glad for the shelter... Even though a sense of distrust still tugs at him, not having grown this old himself without a healthy dose of paranoia. He nods some at the old woman then, "Thank you for sheltering us..." And quietly decides not to mention he's often one of those 'worse things' himself that stalk the streets at night, "Could you lead us to a safe exit?"
The old woman continues on, not bothering to look over her shoulder, "A safe exit? No, I cannot. A safe place? Yes, at least for the moment." She stops at a door, the only one seen in the hallway so far, the hallway continuing on past it into gloom, and opens it, urging you both through after her as she enters, the room beyond lit warmly with lamps and the air scented with exotic incense, some sticks of which still burn. The room is richly appointed with old and well-worn wood panelling bearing inset carvings of dragons and tigers and other less-known things, and is almost crowded with a boggling collections of curios and objects of foreign culture, everything from vases and sculptures to weapon racks holding a varied assortment of tools for violence to jewelry cases open and displaying their contents. The old woman motions to some cushioned and intricately carved chairs around a small table, the surface of which bears an intricate knot-like pattern of inlaid wood, "Come, I have tea. Sit, and be comfortable."
As she continues and Mordecai asks that he starts to move after her finally, jogging to catch up before he slows and looks around a little before stepping slowly into the rich looking room. "This is... not exactly what I was expecting," he murmurs quietly before scenting the air a little and then walking in further to take a seat. "You have a very lovely.. uh room.."
Mordecai follows more slowly... Even pausing to take a moment to study the interior of the room before he steps in himself. He's still somewhat paranoid, the strange battle outside having put him on his toes, and he even noted the presence of the weapons... And as he walks in, he decides to take a seat nearest to them, to perhaps be given a chance to reach for a blade if this whole situation turns out to be a trap. Because someone has to be prepared, right? He nods some, before he sits down himself, glancing over at Ka'Len before he adds, "Yes... Very lovely. But I must ask, do gang fights like that happen alot here?"
The old woman chuckles, "Of course not, young man. Many things in this world are not what they appear to be. Take that urn, for example," she points out a plain brass urn or relatively small size, the kind one might put a person's ashes in, it's lid sealed closed with black wax, "Few would know, just from looking at such a simple thing, that, according to ancient legend, an evil spirit sleeps within." She busies herself preparing three cups of a fragrant tea, the smell of jasmine flowers and spices adding their touch to the incense that already permeates the air. The old woman continues, after a moment's thought, "In fact, I would recommend not touching most everything here. If it's not extremely valuable, then it's probably at least extremely dangerous to the untrained." She brings the prepared tea to the table, serving you both cups before taking her own and climbing into a seat herself, "Fights like that? No, not usually on that scale. That confrontation was special. The Golden Dragons were holding a funeral procession for a fallen leader. The Crimson Eagles, who the Dragons blamed for his death, arrived to protest the accusation of their complicity in killing him. Whether they were actually involved in it or not is anyone's guess, really."
Ka'Len accepts one of the cups and dips his head but he ends up blinking and looking around, particularily at the evil urn, before looking back again. The numerous questions he suddenly has about the items in the room are put on a back burner for a bit though as he tilts his head some. "And the three fellows that... descended right before you pulled us in here? What about those?"
Mordecai bows forward a bit as he accepts the tea... Yet keeps the cup firmly held in one hand, not sipping the tea just yet, instead looking around some as the old woman mentions the various items on display, and their possible danger. Like Ka'Len, he eyes up that urn, before he looks back at both of them. Nodding some at the Elvaan's question, curious about the three men as well.
The old woman takes a sip of her tea, soaking in the aroma for a second before answering, "Those three... Yes. They are something else entirely. The Three Storms, they are called. Warriors who sold their souls for power, and who now serve a dark master. They are legends, spoken of in whispers. And if they are here..." She considers for a moment, then continues, "If they are here, then it means their master, a dark sorceror named Lo Pan, is planning something. A dark omen, the like of which has not occurred in over five hundred years." She takes another sip of her tea, seeming to brood a bit.
Ka'Len falls quiet for a few moments, sipping from the tea before he pauses and blinks down at it. Shaking his head then the young noble looks back up again. "Lo.. Pan, that's a strange name, but that does sound serious." Actually he looks to be at a loss for words for a few moments while he strokes the arm of the chair and then looks back again. "It sounds like ill things are starting certainly. Who is this Lo Pan?"
Mordecai peers between the two... Noting Ka'Len's blink at his tea. Which convinces the man not to drink his even moreso! As it is though, he also takes in everything the old woman tells them. The gangs. The Three Storms. Lo Pan. The older man frowning some as he files all this away for possible later use, seeing a threat that might have to be dealt with during some of his night-time excursion. He speaks up then, asking the woman, "What can one do against such a threat?"
The old woman chuckles, "'Who is Lo Pan', he asks..." She takes another sip of her tea, then stands (or slips off the chair, take your pick), heading for a bookshelf on the far side of the room. From a low shelf she pulls a book easily as big as she is, and looking very old, the vellum pages yellowed and frayed, and carries it over to the table, where it lands on the table top with a heavy THUMP. Back into her chair she goes, standing in it and pulling the book to her, opening it and flipping through the pages, "Ah, here we are... Lo Pan." She points to a scribble written in some foreign cross-hatch of characters, which seem to be what the whole book is written in if this page is any indication, "He was a sorceror many centuries ago, a wise and powerful man. But pride led him astray, and he betrayed a mighty Spirit, going back on a deal made years before. So the spirit cursed Lo Pan, taking from him his flesh and condemning him to wander forever, a living man without form or flesh, unable to touch or feel, until the end of time. But there is always a catch. Lo Pan learned that there was a way to rid himself of this curse, a prophecy that there would be born a woman, a very special woman. By marrying this woman, he would regain his flesh and be whole once more. It is thought, though, that he may kill this woman after, should he ever find her, to appease the dark entity that nurtured his pride and led him astray, a sacrifice to renew his bonds with darkness and grant him great power once more..." She closes the book, "That last bit is mere suspicion, though, no one has ever found any evidence to really support that part of the legend." She settles back in her seat, "Against Lo Pan? Nothing, at least not directly. He has though that he'd found this woman he seeks a few times before, legend says. It was never the right woman, though, and his attempts to relieve himself of his fate failed."
Ka'Len looks down at his tea then takes another sip before looking over at Mordecai and murmuring, "it's good, I've just never tasted it's kind before." Looking back at the woman he starts to rise when she does, manners this one, and then he moves to help her with the book, "I could have gotten it for you madam." However as it hits the table he returns to his seat and then starts to listen while leaning forward to see the book's writing before he frowns. "An interesting language.." Quieting again he listens in before blowing out a breath. "I wonder what would be so special about her. I mean... if he thinks that he has found the right one, but has been wrong, must be something. No way to do anything about him in his present state though hrmm?"
Mordecai takes the oppertunity to lean forward and set his untouched tea on the table as the woman grabs the book... Still not trusting the beverage, but being interested in the story of Lo Pan all the same. He peers at the odd language written on the pages, finding it to be one he doesn't recognize, despite his extensive travels. Listening to Ka'Len's questions then, he nods some, and speaks up himself, his voice gruff, "Sounds like a big threat... There must be something that can be done?"
The old woman smiles, or at least seems to (it's hard to tell, and the look is more disturbing to see than it's likely intended to be), at Ka'Len, "You're very kind to offer, boy, thank you. I'll let you put it back, if you like?" She shakes her head at the questions, "Like I said, nothing direct. You cannot kill that which has no flesh, after all. His pressence is illusion, his form insubstantial to mortal senses. I have a friend who knows more about Lo Pan than I, and he is probably on top of this. The two have... history, shall we say, and Shen has been waiting for his chance. But his window of opportunity is very narrow, or so he told me. If Lo Pan has indeed found another woman, and if she -is- in fact the right one, then Shen's chance, his only chance, will be after Lo Pan weds her, and before he kills her; assuming that is what he will do, of course. That would be when he will be mortal once more, and before he regains the powers that were stripped from him along with his flesh."
Ka'Len smiles and sets down his cup before standing again to lift the book and after a brief glance within he closes it and carries it back over to it's shelf. He takes a few moments to look around a little better while standing, apparently feeling a little more comfortable as they've listened to the tales and nothing bad has happened so far. Looking back then the young man tilts his head. "So basically when he is still weak from being made flesh without having his spirit's favor and before he can regain it. That /would/ be a limited window, agreed..."
Mordecai arches his brow at all this, even as he keeps an eye on Ka'Len. Worrying more about the young man's safety rather than his own. He seems to ponder then, raising a hand to rub at his bearded chin, "Then I hope this Shen knows what he's doing... If this Lo Pan is as dangerous as you say, it's not just a local thing..." He motions around, as if encompassing this part of the slum, "But something that could affect all of us. So something must be done."
There's lots of interesting things over by the book case to look at. There's an open case where a number of rings and pendants, from simple to ornate, rest. There's a helm of polished steel accented with gold and jade. A small painting of a young woman with long auburn hair held in a thick braid, and wearing a green silk robe with gold cuffs and hem, and with a circular knot-like design embroidered on the front. A vase of fine white porcelain decorated in delicate designs done in a pale powdery blue. And, seemingly out of place among the fine art and jewelry, a small padded case that displays a handgun, of all things, that must be quite old. The old woman nods to Mordecai, "Yes, Shen knows very well what he's doing. He's waited a long time for his chance, and if his chance comes, he'll take it. He's known for a long time that it is his destiny to do so, and knows full well the consequences for the world should he fail."
Ka'Len folds his hands behind his back, see he's not touching! As he looks over the different items though and listens the young man's eyes fall on the paining and he tilts his head. Looking over at the woman then suddenly he asks with a smile, "is this you? The dress reminds me very much of yours." And as he asks he , of course, motions and nearly knocks over that porcelain vase as he does. In fact his hand does smack it before he quickly acks at catches it, keeping it from falling.
Mordecai watches Ka'Len study the objects, and glances over towards the old woman as well as the Elvaan asks his question about the painting... But then his attention is brought right back, watching the lad nearly knock over the vase, causing the older man to go ever so slightly wide eyed before he growls out, "Careful, boy! She said that thing was not to be trifled with!" And he actually reaches out to grab Ka'Len by the back of his shirt, to pull him away from there.
The old woman hmm?s and looks at Ka'Len, cackling in amusement just as much at the question as at the near-accident with the vase. Once she curtails her laughter and is able to answer, she does so, "Yes, my boy, that is me, when I was much younger." She waves a hand at Mordecai's rebuke, "No, no, that's just a simple vase. Very old, but harmless. Only worth more than a common man could earn in five lifetimes." And said in such an off-hand fashion... Turning her attention back to Ka'Len, "That was painted to be presented to my betrothed, when my parents arranged for my marraige."
Ka'Len winces a little as he's tugged back. "Sorry about that, really." HE rubs the back of his neck lightly before taking a seat once again. A quick look cast towards Mordecai, a bit guilty in fact, before he looks back at the woman and smiles, "oh... well it's a very nice painting.. and sorry about nearly breaking the near priceless vase. Uhm.. oh you never mentioned what was special about the girl this Lo Pan is looking for.."
Mordecai lets out a quiet breath, before nodding some at the old woman... Relieved the Elvaan didn't actuallt nearly knock over the thing holding the demon, as well as being relieved he didn't knock over some priceless artifact either. He however ignores all the talk about the painting then, instead focusing on the situation at hand as he nods at Ka'Len's question, and adds, "Is there any way we can help?"
The old woman chuckles, waving her hand again, "It's all right, boy, curiosity is part of being young. And no harm came of it, anyway." To Ka'Len's question, she shrugs, "That I do not know. Shen would know, but it was not written in my book, and I never asked him about it. My area of expertise is more in the area of artifacts and items of cultural history." She sips her tea, pondering Mordecai's question, "You know, I'm honestly not sure. You'd have to ask Shen that question; he might accept your help, or he might not... He's big on the idea of Fate and Destiny. There's also the fact that you aren't really involved in the matter, which might make him reluctant to take you along. But, regardless, in order to figure all that out, you'd have to find him, and I don't know where he'd be right now since Lo Pan is on the move. He could be in the Underworld already, by now, for all I know."
"Hmmm, well was worth asking.. maybe.." he looks at Mordecai, noting his concern, before looking back again. "Maybe if you speak to him you could say we'd like to help uh somehow. Or maybe just spread the word. I'm sure you know a network of people that knows him. Right?" He smiles and then slowly shifts in the seat, "for now though.. perhaps it is safe for us to stop invading your home."
Mordecai thinks on all this for a long moment... Before looks up at the old woman, and says somewhat enigmaticly, "Anything involving this place is my concern, wether I like it or not... Nor am I fully ignorant about such matters as spirits and other matters of supernatural origins..." He shrugs, matter-of-factly, leaving it at that, before he pushes himself up, nodding at Ka'Len, "We should get out of here. We're wasting time, if the danger is as great as you mention... Please tell your friend... He has an ally." The older man reaches for his neck then, fingers curling around the medallion which hangs there from a string, and with a strong tug, he yanks it free, before presenting it to the old woman, "If both of you are as knowledgable as you say, you will recognize my worth from this."
The old woman chuckles, "Invasion? Nonsense. I invited you in." Her eyes become unfocused for a second before refocusing on Ka'Len again, then turning her attention to the door she brought you through, "No, you both are welcome here; there is one coming who is not. Yes, it might be safer now for you both to continue on..." She looks at Mordecai, accepting his words at face value, then hopping up onto the table to get a look at the medallion, then at Mordecai with a very keen stare, her eyes glimmering in the lamplight as she examines him, almost as if with more than her eyes alone, one thin, gnarled hand emerging from a sleeve to finger the presented medallion before withdrawing again, "Hm, yes, I see... Very interesting." With a sudden turn, the hops off the table, moving quickly about the room, back and forth, here and there, taking tings from one place, pausing to scribble on a piece of parchment in another place, a sudden hustle of activity. Returning to the table, she sets down a number of items. From among them she pulls two small glass vials, holding one out to each of you, "Drink this. They have taken an interest in my little refuge, and this will hide you from them long enough to leave here safely." The second item she set down is a small box of richly polished wood, about the size of a breadbox and fitted with polished brass fittings. She opens it and turns it to Ka'Len, showing him a collection of a couple dozen rings, a few pendants and bracelets, even a pair or two of earrings, "Pick one, boy. Don't think about which one, just let your hand take the one it likes." Without waiting for his choice, she picks the next item she brought to the table, a dagger, with silver-accented wooden scabbard and a small tassel of blue silk hanging from the hilt's pomel, telling Mordecai, "And you, take this with you." She then looks at you both, waiting expectantly for the two of you to follow her instructions, as if it doesn't even occur to her that you might not.
Ka'Len looks over at Mordecai, a curious expression touching his face while he lifts a brow. Obviously the young man is realizing that he really doesn't know all that much about the owner of the orphanage. The woman's words catch his attention though and he frowns, rising while looking towards the door then back. "Wait, someone's coming.." His words cut off by her instructions and there's a moment's debate before he looks at Mordecai and shrugs. "If she wanted to hurt us she would've already with the tea. I'm inclined to trust her." He looks back down and lifts the glass vial, though doesn't drink it immediately. The jewelry is given a long veiw and he starts to reach towards one of the necklaces, pausing for a moment before he tilts his head back towards Mordecai. Don't kill me if I get us into more trouble, okay?" He grabs a plain silvery bracelet with a little bit of etched scroll work from the box presented him before eyeing the potion.
Mordecai takes a moment to tie his medallion back around his neck, slipping it below his shirt before he looks between the two... He nods at Ka'Len then, grumbling out, "Agreed..." Before he takes one of those vials as well... Wrapping his fingers around it as he watches Ka'Len try to decide on a piece of jewelry. He shrugs at him, and responds, "Let's how if we die, it'll be quick, eh?" Seemingly rather calm and just a bit flippant about the supposed approaching danger, before he pops the cap off the vial and brings it to his mouth, downing the contents in one smooth swallow, not even taking the time to taste it. And not wasting any time afterwards either as he nods at the old woman and accepts the dagger, sliding the blade halfway out of its scabbard to take note of its edges.
The old woman takes another look at the door she brought you both through as Ka'Len picks an item from the box and puts it on. And as the bracelet fits over the young man's wrist, something sharp on it gives his wrist a sharp prick, drawing a drop of blood. And as for the dagger, Mordecai's check of the blade reveals no blade at all, though the hilt, when against the scabbard, sits tightly as if there were a blade present. The old woman turns to Ka'Len, and ahs at his selection, "An interesting fate, young man. You'll have an interesting time with that one." She reaches for the box the bracelet came from, snapping it closed, then handing Ka'Len the parchment scrap she scribbled on before, "If you ever have any questions about it, boy, go here. Ask for Khu Lon. Now drink up! The potion does you no good in it's vial!." That said and done, she heads back to the bookcase, and takes the pistol from the open case there, revealing it to be a breach-loading revolver. She pulls a few other objects from the case, swiftly inserting them into their places, then snapping the pistol closed and tucking it away somewhere in her robe, "Just in case... Though I don't expect I'll actually need to use it."
Ka'Len hisses lightly at the sharp prick, then rubs his wrist before muttering, "it bites" to himself. Looking back up at the crone then he questions, "fate?" Before the reminder of the vial comes. The paper is taken and tucked into his pocket before he drinks from the vial as Mord did, a quick glance cast towards his friend then back to the old woman, "uh.. will you be alright?"
Mordecai blinks some at the strange non-existant dagger... Then just shakes his head, and reaches down to shove the scabbard behind his belt, securing it. Despite his initial caution, he seems to have accepted the crone's words by now, perhaps having realized how genuine the threat is that lies ahead. He stands there then, watching the woman pocket the pistol... A type of weapon very familiar to him, and then he looks over at Ka'Len, arching his brow, "Bites?" He asks, before taking the time to look at the door. His lean, though aged frame visibly tensing some as he starts to enter an increased state of readiness, ready to go into flight or fight at a moment's notice.
The old woman grins at Ka'Len, "Most likely, yes... It would cost them a great deal to try to actually -hurt- me here; it's more likely they want one of the items I have here, though I can't imagine why. But I would be a fool to not be prepared on the off chance, wouldn't I?" She takes her staff and nudges Mordecai's arm, "Not that way; over here." She hustles to a far corner of the room, where a rack of spears it affixed to the wall, and taps a nondescript bit of the adjoining wall next to it, causing it to silently swing in and out of view, "This way. My great-granddaughter is waiting beyond to lead you out. Follow her, and you shall be fine."
"Alright then... I will wish you luck.." He follows after her hustling and then glances back at Mordecai before shaking his head, "don't worry, just a sharp bit on the bracelet got me." He smiles then before slipping through the opening in the wall with a final nod given the old woman. "Thank you for your help and take care thennn."
Mordecai nods some at the old woman, before he dips forward in a short, respectful bow to her, rumbling out in that deep voice of his, "Thank you for the shelter... And perhaps we will be able to help deal with this Lo Pan. He sounds like someone that must be stopped." He watches Ka'Len disappear through the newly created opening then before he softly sighs, and adds, "If only because such is my fate." He shrugs some, and then simply steps forward towards the opening himself, ducking through...
The old woman nods to you each as you pass through, the secret door closing behind Mordecai and leaving you both in pitch black, but not before the old woman's voice reaches you both, "Fate is a funny thing. It's not always what we expect it to be." The darkness it total, until, suddenly, a lantern is turned up just enough to see in the narrow space, revealing the person holding it: a buxom young woman in her late teens with long, flowing raven hair, wearing a slinky sleeveless oriental-style dress of shimmering blue silk that shows a lot of leg and a lot of cleavage, a pair of matching flat-soled slippers on her feet. As the sound of someone entering and the old woman talking comes from the room you just left, the great-granddaughter whispers, "I Xian Pu. You follow, I lead you out." With that, she turns and leads, the passage narrow and twisting. Eventually, the girl stops at a dead end, and pulls a lever, the wall opening to reveal another narrow alley, much like the one you entered at the start...
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