[Faris]

• Location: Faris' Home, Espur
  
• Date: Settasha 9052ZT (10012XA)
  
• Time: Morning
  
• Other Notes: For Retrieval Squad Quest
  

Many a famous rivalry dotted the history of Elysia; from Great Houses Majid and Kaveh to the opposing Anyeli factions of Apali and Skotadi. And now, the conflict between Thomas Wynfendale and Michael Armstrong was playing out in his neighbourhood just a few blocks away. Just hearing the two names made Faris want to wince. And had he flexible ears like Therian, they would have flattened against in skull.

Fari had ignored the two's petty arguments for most part, until everyone else decided that enough was enough, and pooled together a reward for whoever could sort things out. Then he jumped at the opportunity to intervene in the long-standing dispute, and get paid for doing so. The basics he was clear about; both Wynfendale and Amrstrong had declared that they were the owner of some gardening equipment. It was harder to not know what was going on, with their constant and very vocal arguments. The former said that the latter borrowed the equipment only to never return the item, while the latter accused the former of attempting to steal his tools.

He decided to invite Armstrong over for some tea first. Hopefully the beverage would calm the man down sufficiently for him to get started. Leaning back in his chair, Faris took a sip of the freshly brewed drink before beginning. "Good day, Mister Armstrong; please help yourself to the tea. I hear that Wynfendale has been eyeing your...ladder, was it? Care to elaborate? Has he actually made a move on your gardening tools?"

[NPC]

Emma was here.

“Tea? Che. You call this tea? What is this... this... stuff floating around in it? Pah!”

Michael Armstrong was a human in his late fifties. His once black hair was a shock of white slicked forward in an effort to hide a gaping bald patch, and his once vibrant green eyes were paling with age. He peered over half-moon glasses at the Zanaryan seated across from him, his nose wrinkled at the insipid stink of sulphur and his top lip pulled back in barely concealed disgust.

“Ladder, yes. You planning on getting it back for me, boy?” Faris was no doubt much older than Michael, but his horns and those enormous bat wings had the gloss of youth. As if the smell wasn't bad enough, that just took the biscuit. “That Wynfendale has been trying to steal it for months. Ah, you caught him in the act? You caught him at it, didn't you? You'd better come with me if you have. That smarmy vlareon at the Watchtower keeps telling me 'we need proof'.” The voice he assumed to mimic Senior Guardsman Lornann was just as smarmy as the man himself. “Now we can give it to him!”

[Faris]

Faris suppressed an urge to sigh. "Of course, Mister Armstrong. I'm sure the whole neighbourhood knows of his designs on your ladder. But proof; proof is good, Mister Armstrong. With proof we can publicly humiliate the man, oust him as a thief for all to know. He would never lift his head up in public ever again, much less try to take your ladder!" He was not about to test his Zanaryan word against another. Plus he had not actually seen Wynfendale act out of line, any more than Armstrong had.

"That would be absolutely gratifying wouldn't it? And to do that I need all that there is to know about this foul Wynfendale. Everything." There had to be something more than just gardening tools at stake here; neither Armstrong nor Wynfendale were so destitue as to have to bicker over a mere ladder. So what was the true reason behind their rivalry?

Armstrong's comment about his tea was completely ignored, of course. The dismissal had miffed him a little, but it was not the first time Faris had been presented with the utter disregard Elysian commoners held for his homeworld's products. If they could not appreciate the finer things in life out of prejudice, it was their loss. There were plenty of others who were willing to fork out large sums of money for the tea and it showed in the numbers carefully recorded in the ledgers of Keikis plantations.

[NPC]

“Hmm. Hmph.” Michael wasn't sure whether to be mollified or not. Zanaryans were clever speakers. Faris could be mocking him and he would never know it.

It would be gratifying, though, to see the smug look wiped off Wynfendale's face. “All there is to know? Hmph. He's a sneaky vlareon, so good luck.” Nevertheless, “He's a Therian. Him and his brats, it's like having a gang of bandits living in the neighbourhood. They have no sense of ownership at all. Remember when Sully's wheelbarrow went? And Mrs. Carbunkle's watering can? And that odd fellow, "Kapetan" Arikios' what-was-it.” Captain Arikios was a Skotados who lived just a couple of doors down and insisted on using the Anyeli version of his title. Michael deliberately stressed the Elysian version to the pompous git.

“I never understood what that thing was that he said went missing, but I'd bet the rest of my hair it was those Wynfendale vermin who took it.” Of course, Thomas had never been caught in the act and Lornann was too chicken to do anything without his evidence. “Lornann's Therian too, actually. They probably have some sort of backyard arrangement to keep Wynfendale off the posters. Ought to have his hands whipped off, the thieving vlareon.”

[Faris]

The repetition of "vlareon'' was starting grate on his nerves. A true Passing Death would do more than just steal gardening supplies. It would kill you and your whole family and have your bones for soup since you're obviously too stale for consumption by other means. So much prejudice. But what of humans themselves? Far worse than the Vlareon and Therians. Squishy. Uncouth. Weak. Useless. Pathetic. Instinctively Faris' face went blank before he could show any hostility. Only the unnaturally tight grip on his teacup showed how tense he was inside. For those who knew him, the sudden lack of expression was a danger signal in itself that one of his landmines was close to be stepped on.

Slurs aside, Armstrong's reply was still of great interest to Faris; especially when the human mentioned that there were others who had items gone missing. It was definitely something to look into and perhaps gave him more people he needed to speak to. "Accusing the Watch of corruption is a serious matter, Mister Armstrong.. Best not to speak of such suspicions too freely; you never know what kind of trouble it might get you into. Regardless of what relationship the Watch has with him, that's still quite the bad reputation he's got, this Wynfendale... But if he's got such skill with stealing gardening equipment, why not steal something else?"

[NPC]

Michael was not a smart man, all things considered. He missed the physical cues to Faris' anger, including the white knuckles, and would not have cared regardless.

“Humph. What will they do, arrest me for freedom of speech?” He was so certain of his right to speak an opinion he knew was absolutely correct that the idea seemed preposterous.

The Zanaryan did raise a good point that stumped Michael out of answering for a second, though. What did Therians do with gardening supplies? “Sell them, I suppose?” Having found an answer to his liking, Michael nodded sharply, as if his response was more than obvious. “Gardening equipment like that tends to be left outside, after all. They're probably too lazy to go after anything that requires effort.”

He set down his cup, the tea inside it untouched. “What does it matter why they steal the stuff, anyway? I just want my ladder back! Are you going to confront him? I'd dearly like to see that. Let me know when you're going 'round there and I'll come with you.”

[Faris]

It was now obvious that Armstrong knew no information of worth, and was simply blabbering whatever came to mind first, even if it made no sense. At any rater, there was little point in reasoning with the human. It was time to end this leg of the investigation. Armstrong's tea had been untouched. What a waste.

Faris stood up, "It matters, because Wynfendale may be trying to build up a monopoly of gardening tools so that he may sell it at exobirtant prices later. It matters, because it may turn out that your ladder has magical properties. It matters, because Wynfendale might be using gardening equipment to conduct a pagan ritual in secret, eventually summoning a pack of vlareon to decimate the whole port city." All of which were unlikely, and even though the reasons got more and more ridiculous, Faris said them all stone-faced nonetheless. "It matters, because at this point in time I know nothing of this Wynfendale, other than that he is a Therian who has children, and that he has an unusual attraction to shed supplies. I know no detective, watchman, or investigator who can catch a criminal without understanding his motivations."

He finally broke the mask of seriousness with a smile; it was a polite thing, an emotionless upward stretching of his lips. "I thank you for your time Mister Armstrong. You have been remarkably helpful. Hopefully the next time we meet I will be able to greet you with a ladder instead of tea. But before you go, could you please describe to me your ladder? In detail. Size, wood, number of rungs, texture, colour everything. Right down to the number of scratches and dents it has." He was tempted to add 'you never know, your ladder might be a magical relic', but decided to stop with the jokes.

[NPC]

OOC: Pchan taking over~

“Hmph. Who cares how you do it; just get my ladder back!” Michael glowered as he stood and followed Faris to the door. He was starting to wonder if the Zanaryan was truly intending to help him with the matter. Faris had so many questions, too little answers, and no ladder. Just like that useless Town Guard Lornann.

His glower was cut short when the door opened and fresh, non-Zanaryan-smelling air swept in. Breathing in deeply, his reply was a little less gruff than it might have been had it been made mere seconds before. "Just so you know, I don't spend my day staring at my ladder; by Xanth, how would I know how many dents and scratches it got? My ladder's dark reddish brown with eleven rungs that're smoother in the center, and that's all I can remember. Make sure you have my ladder, or are going to confront that vlareon the next time you contact me." And without so much as a 'goodbye' or a 'have a nice day', the human left.

[Faris]

Seeing how Armstrong had been less than reciprocative of his friendliness, Faris decided to go on the offensive when dealing with Wynfendale. Prior to engagement with Therian, he scouted out any and all information from the people of the neighbour. Most of them were glad that someone had snapped up their request, and were glad to snitch on both parties involved. Along the way Fari learned how alcohol was an excellent breverage to supply in such occasions. Tongues wagged, and he learned quite a bit of juicy rumours regarding the Wynfedales.

Mister Wynfendale, the one whom Armstrong argued with all day, was a widower and the sole caretaker of his brood of seven. The man worked as a cooper with his sons as his apprentices, none of whom seemed to get on well with him. The eldest son Xander had been on bad terms with his father for a while due to a wish to enter different trade. There had been talk that the son had almost ran away from home at one point. Wynfendale's second son, Read, was said to earn his father's ire by returning home late every night. Carson the youngest son skived whenever he could and often played pranks on the other children, and adults, of the neighbourhood.

With the amount of conflict occuring at home, Faris found himself hard-pressed to come up with a possible motive for Wynfendale to spend his time stealing inexpensive gardening tools. A method of stress-relief perhaps? Musing as he walked back home after another day of exhausting house visits, Faris did not pay much attention to his surroundings.

"Your shoelace is untied!"

Faris looked down, and immediately felt the hard splash of cold water on his face, along with a "Hahahaa~ Made ya look, made ya look! You don't even have shoelaces, dummy~" Looking back up, and with his hair and shirt dripping wet, he saw the gleeful face of the youngest of Wynfendale's sons. Shooting him a glare that sent the boy running off with his bucket in tow, Faris changed his mind just a moment later. Manipulating the water around and on him into a small puddle, Faris sent it ahead, and slipping it just under the boy's next step, caused the Therian kid to slip and fall with a loud "Ouch!"

Easily catching up with the boy with his long strides, Faris bent down and gave a smile that was only half cold. "Pranked ya." He offered his hand. "Next time, don't prank a Zanaryan." At least not the Azats and Azizs. But chances were the kid wouldn't even know what Azats and Azizs were, so Faris did not bother.

[NPC]

OOC: Still Pchan, and probably will be for the rest of the thread unless otherwise stated

The bat-winged man smelled bad. Carson wrinkled his little nose, staring at the outstretched hand with eyes full of doubt. There didn't seem to be any hidden trick, and what the man did was cool in spite of his stink. It had been the first time he'd seen someone manipulate water this close; all the other times he was only allowed to watch briefly from a distance whenever elemental-dancers came to town. So he let the man help him up, asking curiously, "You're not going to tell my father are you? You already pranked me back! I-I mean, please don't tell Father I pranked you!"

Most of the time he got away with his pranks because he never managed to get caught; his victims knew better than to complain about his behaviour to his father. The senior Wynfendale did not take well to outsiders tattling on his children, treating whoever came with grievances to a taste of his well-known temper. He on the other hand, was used to his father's scolding.

In the rare event he committed a slip-up, got caught and then dragged by the pranked dolts to lodge a complaint though, it was a different matter altogether. Carson really did not want to relive the experience again. "Please~ I promise never to prank a Zaalian again!! You, you don't wanna face Father! He's big and mean! He won't listen to anything you say, plus doesn't like talking to weird-smelling pe—people." Carson wished he had to ability to eat his own words; surely he was in such trouble now....

[Faris]

Despite the kid's fervent tone and large eyes staring up at him, Faris had his doubts about the validity of Carson's promise. Especially with the terribly mispronounced 'Zaalian'. He had no intention of turning the kid in though, seeing as there was nothing to be gained from doing so. Vindication had already been served piping hot when he did his own counter-prank. Faris feigned dissatisfaction and malice regardless, hoping to scare a bit of insider's information about the elder Wynfendale out from his youngest son.

He wanted to laugh at the kid's now even wider eyes when he realised what an insult he had made with his last sentence. Playing along, Faris released his grip on the Therian's wrist, transferring his hand onto the top of the child's head. Ruffling the sandy-brown hair a little, he pressed down on his head lightly. The silver rings adorning Faris' fingers pressed against his scalp, creating just enough discomfort to establish authority over the adolescent Therian.

"Oh~ So your father's all big and bad huh... I wonder what he would have to say about his own son spouting such things about him. And don't even think of trying to protest when we go confront your father; who's going to believe you? The word of the neighbourhood's shenanigans personified against that of a law-abiding model resident of Espur; really now, it's not much of a competition." Things would not have been so easy had Carson been less prolific in his pranks. As it was though, Faris had to complete upper hand.

[NPC]

Carson shifted uneasily, the pressure on the top of his head upsetting him almost as much as the thought of having to face his father. He turned his head this way and that, trying to get the hand to come off but to no avail. Was his head going to stink after this? How many times was he going to wash his hair to get rid of the smell? Was Read going to laugh at him again?

"But, but it's true! He's big-sized! And mean and never listens to what I say! Like that time I told him I really wanted to watch the element dancers and he said okay but never brought me to see them! He never listens to what anyone says... Not me, not second bro, not even big brother..." The more Carson spoke, the more his voice descended into a plantative whine. Ignoring the weight on his head, Carson looked up at the bat-winged man. He could manipulate water. Didn't that make him a water dancer? With anticipation and excitement his eyes widened, his mouth unconsciously moving to form an open smile.

[Faris]

"Well. He does sound like a difficult person to communicate with. Cheer up, I'm sure you'll get to see the dancers sometime soon, even if you have to go see them by yourself.." Then he noticed the way the kid was staring at him now. Something clicked inside his head, and Faris felt chargin like never before. His mock-friendly tone went out of the window, and he begun to vehemently insist, "Oh no. No no no. I'm not going to fall for those puppy-dog eyes of yours. Yes I can manipulate water just fine, but dancing is completely out of the question. No, just plain no. Come along, let's return you to your father."

Faris steered the kid forward, hand still on his head. As the kid reluctantly started to walk, he continued to talk as well; here was someone who was willing to speak without reservations, and Faris was not going to miss the opportunity to get more information on Wynfendale. Particularly something beyond the veneer of the disagreeable cooper his neighbours usually interacted with. "You know, fathers are strict like that. It's only natural that he wants you to concentrate on work and studies, and that his eldest son follow him in trade. Nothing to get so dejected over."

[NPC]

"No; you don't get it! It's like, like he just doesn't listen! At all! Like with Read; brother only wanted to be with the person he loves! I don't know why Father's so against it; she's really pretty too, even though I only saw her twice." Carson dug in his heels, determined to get Faris to be on his side. All the other adults didn't even want to talk to him, much less listen. They just started dragging him to see his father the moment they got their hands on him. In Carson's mind it was some nasty conspiracy adults had against children. Of course, the Therian pup conveniently forgot that it was his own fault, and that few victims of pranks were willing to speak to their prankster.

"Father's so stubborn; and because of him Read always stays out till super-late and I don't have anyone to play with anymore.." He voiced his second greatest concern honestly, hoping that this water dancer who refused to dance would somehow miraculously volunteer to become his new playmate. Sure the man was stinky, but Carson figured he would get used to it or something. And he could probably make use of it for a prank even!

[Faris]

Forbidden love? Though Faris never showed any interest outwardly, he took just as much notice in juicy gossip as any middle-aged housewife. He would have liked hearing more on the topic, but sadly Carson moved on to other complaints. What was worse was the unspoken invitation to be the Therian's newest playmate. If the investigation had been concluded, Faris would be telling him a flat-out no right now. As it were though, he simply pretended not to notice the hopeful look Carson once again sported.

"Surely there must be a reason why your father is objecting. Sometimes you have to have a little faith in adults. If it's causing such a rift though... Tell you what, let's go see your brother instead of your father hm? Since he's less stubborn and you miss him. While you're at it you can try guilt-tripping him into spending more time with you as well; maybe even bring you to watch the dancers!" Faris let go of Carson's head, sure that the kid would not run off. "if he gets angry though.. I'll just say that I forced you to bring me there I guess." He shrugged, it wasn't too far off from the truth anyway.

[NPC]

Hind's breath! Someone is coming! And by the smell... A Zanaryan?? Read kept still and held his breath in hope that it was just a lost person who would detect neither his presence nor his work. Go away, go away, go away... The footfalls grew louder, as if mocking his secrecy. He clutched the pair of hedge shears in his bandaged hands tightly as he eyed the direction where the sounds and smells came. When the branches across the small messy clearing rustled, parting to allow passage, Read held out the shears in warning even as he took a step back. When he saw who it was though, his pale face turned reddish, and he put down the shears.

"CARSON! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?! Didn't I tell you not to come here—" Read stuck out the hedge shears once more, his tone even angrier than before as he let out a string of curses. "Who's that. By Xanth, you really can't keep a secret can you? I thought told you not to bring anyone here, not to breathe a single word to anyone. Do you want me to be disowned huh?!" Read glared at his little brother, who immediately hid behind the stranger. "I told you he'd be mad..." Yes of course he would be mad! Growling deeply, he repeated himself. "Why are you here. And who. Is. That."

[Faris]

Impressive. Wynfendale's second son certainly took after his old man in terms of temper. Faris had already been mentally preparation after speaking a bit more with Carson on his way to the clearing, but really, threatening an innocent not-so-passer-by with hedge shears... But of course, hedge shears. Faris stepped forward to take the brunt of Read's ranting. Promises had to be fulfilled, even though he was mildly repulsed by the mental image of Read's spittle from sailing through the air towards him with every shout the Therian made. Making an act of showing Read his open (and empty) palms in an effort to placate the Therian, Faris started speaking before Read could continue with his rant.

"My name is Faris; I pressured your brother into bringing me to see you after I caught him playing a prank on me. He misses you, you see. But unfortunately, is too afraid of disturbing you while you were toiling in your sanctuary."

Faris surveryed the area before his eyes, nodding as he did. "I certainly did not expect you to be spending all your time on this. In fact I was expecting to be led to a tavern and not a gardening project, but I must say you have put in remarkable effort. To some extent, it shows. Very much so." Faris intended it to come off as a snide not-quite-compliment. From the quick dart of Carson's eyes to the bandages on his hands and the darkening scowl, the remark did well in delivering its intended effect.

[NPC]

His brother missed him? And was too afraid of disturbing him? Read stared at the mess of black hair poking out from behind Faris in surprise, and dismay, lowering the shears. That there was no protest from his little brother was confirmation in itself of Faris' words. Had he been too preoccupied with creating this clearing..? Read would have reflected on his neglect of Carson and offered an apology, had the Zanaryan not been here. Using anger and distrust to mask his other emotions, Read retorted.

"Ya, like I care what a stinking Zanaryan like you thinks. You're an outsider, in every single way. Stop poking your nose in other family's affairs, and get out of my clearing! Carson, get him out of here. And make sure he doesn't say anything to anyone." Especially Father.

Turning his back on the two, Carson trudged back to the unruly branches he had been working on. Leaves which had not been cleared away yet made a clear, crisp sound as they were crushed under the soles of his shoes. Raising the shear's blades, he begun pruning. Though the tool was not exactly suitable for the task it had been put to, Read made short work of the branches with his practiced movements.

[Faris]

Faris wondered why every adult in his neighbourhood had to be so surly. Carson's childish friendliness was becoming quite appealing in comparison, despite its grating persistence. He gave the boy's head a reassuring pat when Carson started tugging on his hemline. Faris moved further into the clearing, continuing to take in the area. He was mildly surprised by some of plants growing here; quite a number were ones he had never seen in this area of Elysia before. And not was their species intriguing, the orderly fashion they were growing was of interest as well. Vine plants were twisted artfully among the branches of the trees, reminiscent of viridian drapes. The forest floor however was more or less a mess of leaves, branches and uprooted grass.

Having taken his time in looking around, Faris expected another outburst from the pruning Therian. However, it seemed as if Read was purposefully ignoring him. Excellent decision on the Therian's part, for Faris had wanted him to continue talking, but one that Faris would not allow. Mildly annoyed at being treated like air, Faris gave Wynfendale's second son another verbal jab in an attempt to reignite conversation. "Ahh I would indeed, had your brother not gone about playing pranks on his neighbours all day long."

"Hey! Don't make it sound like it's all my fault!!"

"...But you do spend much of your time playing pranks, no?"

[NPC]

Setting down the hedge shears once again, Read growled. "Stop whining, Carson; it's unbecoming. And could you please please for the sake of my sanity behave yourself? Look, I'm really sorry that I haven't had time to play with you, a'ight? But I can't stop now, not when I've already invested much sweat and cash. Do me a favour and don't cause me further trouble, 'kay? It's not like I don't have enough things to worry about; Father, Blair, the grove... I'm already at my wit's end trying to balance my time between working on this clearing and paying back the herbarium!"

Frustration was clear in his voice, and Read could feel his eyebags growing darker at the mere mention of his hectic schedule. Softening his tone a little as he resumed his pruning, Read gruffly attempted to coax his little into leaving him alone before his temper flared up again. "Just... go okay? I promise to come back home in time for dinner tonight. And take the Zanaryan with you on your way out." The sniping motion of the shears were slower now; as much as he wanted to Read could not summon enough energy to focus.