A Thorn In, Or On Morrighan's Side?

A Thorn In, Or On Morrighan's Side?
Date of Scene:	11 March 2014
Location:	Mullonde
Synopsis:	The World of Ruin is a chaotic place, and one of the people who Morrighan dislikes the most, who endlessly causes her trouble, is evidently an ally of hers. Faruja has the regrettable task of having to try to keep the peace.
Cast of Characters:	Faruja Senra, Morrighan Alazne, Queegmaa

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Morrighan Alazne has posed:
It's been a few days since that vicious attack on that church. The Shadow Lords were repelled and restoration efforts were undertaken. Morrighan herself had been there, aiding the enemy for a time, but Will Sherman managed to break Echo's magic spell. She made off with Echo in the aftermath, flitting away from the battlefield.

What happened after...? Well, she wasn't saying. And Echo was long gone.

Having submitted a report explaining her absence, the dark elf was cleared to return home and rest for a few days. And she planned to take advantage of those days. On this particular afternoon, Morrighan was strolling through the marketplace, browsing the wares of various merchants. In her arm was a basket partially filled with purchased items. "Hm...No, not that one...nor that."

Currently she was standing in front of a fruit stand, picking through various types meticulously in order to find psecimens without bruises and such. The merchant himself waited patiently, offering advice and explaining each type's origins while she browsed.

It was such a peaceful day. Far be it for some troublemaker to show up now.

Queegmaa has posed:
Well, maybe one could say far be it for some troublemaker to show up, but the distance could be closed pretty quick if he were far, and so consequently, Queegmaa 'innocently' hobbles up right next to Morrighan while she examines the fruit at the stand, standing right beside her acting as though he didn't even see her. For an individual with an aptitude for sensing things, and people long before he saw them, Que sure was doing a good job feigning ignorance to his surroundings, and those within them.

Suddenly, he begins to go into a coughing spasm, and some phlegm randomly projects from his mouth onto a few pieces of fruit that the dark elf had just bought; to this, he turns to the woman and says, "Ah, sorry 'bout dat, miss. Been a lil sick lately, affer some witch 'tackt me da udder day, 'n it compromised my 'munity, see.... now I'm hackin' up sh*t all over da place, 'n it looks like I jus' got somma my sputum on yer apple. No harm done, eh? Yah ken jus' wipe't off!" He wasn't actually sick, of course; that was a well fabricated lie, being that he had an uncanny resistance to toxic, bacterial, and viral agents, but who could really truly determine the truth without taking a white blood cell count?

However, to help preserve the illusion that he was besieged by a malady, he'd have to put a conscious effort into coughing every few minutes or so, else lead one to believe he was fibbing, but it was well worth it, after having seized the opportunity to ruin several of Morrighan's lucious desserts!

Faruja Senra has posed:
Being captured and messed with by strange mercenaries /is/ a good way to get out of Heresy. Not that this makes Faruja Senra at all happy. No, after a few hours of his own reports on the incident and peering over other accounts, he's out to take a nice relaxing walk.

Only to bump into two people he /definitely/ doesn't want to see right now. "Ahh, Lady Alazne, Ser Queegma. Lord bless." Ajora help him, he needs a vacation.

Morrighan Alazne has posed:
Ah. Queegmaa. Just who she didn't want to see. "......." Morrighan offered him nothing but silence. She didn't even look at the troll. Instead, she turned away from the stand, much to the merchant's disappointment, and outrage at Queegmaa to soiling his goods. He'd be complaining to the authorities later! Because that's what merchants do!

"Ah, Ser Senra." The elf greeted, offering a small smile as well. Moving past the insufferable imp, she moved to approach Faruja. "I was not expecting to see you today." There was a pause, and then she spoke on. "I suppose I should offer my apologies for the other day. It seems that no matter how much I wish to be left alone, /some/ sort of trouble decides to stand in my way anyhow."

That 'some' was said higher, to make a point of the unwanted presence nearby whom she wasn't going to grace with a look if she could help it.

Queegmaa has posed:
As Faruja approached, feeling compelled to greet them both once it was beyond the point of being able to avoid either, Que could just feel how uncomfortable the Nezumi was, and flashed a smile bearing jagged, hideous rows of fangs similar to that of a great white shark, albeit without the macabre blood-stains upon them, "Fairjer..... Ain't seen ya since ya failed ta save dat church. Kinda funny, ya know.... Yer target was Artimays, 'n she got away clean. My target was dat Morreegin feller.... 'n whaddya know, not only did we get 'er, but she's on ar side uhgin. Looks like once more, I dun my part to see dat my goal was 'cheeved, 'n yuh dint do yers! Da more dings change, da more dey stay da same...."

He chuckles, then rubs his chin, postulating, "Guess da lord sure blesst me, but I dunno if I kud say he dun da same fer you." Unfortunately, though, whether Morrighan wanted to acknowledge Que or not, she might have to acknowledge the residue of what he spewed on the fruit, because it seems that a few droplets found their way onto her hand. As Faruja and Morrighan might both observe, not only did this ichor begin to turn the color of the afflicted fruit black, almost immediately, but perhaps Morrighan's skin would even shift in color remotely, in the area where his slime touched; it was well known to the Shadow Lord Rakassa, who had 'endowed' the goblin with this gift that he would henceforth be noxious to anything his saliva, or mucus contacted, along with the oils from his skin.

In a few minutes, it was entirely possible the dark elf would begin to feel sickly.... But Queegmaa wasn't about to admit that he was poisonous, and to be held responsible for any discomfort Morrighan might or might not feel in the near future! .....It looks like the lord didn't bless her, either. As if to add insult to injury, Queegmaa advertises, in a poor light, what he feels Morrighan is doing, while pretending as though he were completely guiltless of causing anybody any problem, "Course.... some folks is passive-'gressive, 'n won't even face da peeps dey's talkin' 'bout when dey's badmouthin' em. So Fart-ja, I commend ya on at least havin' da b*lls ta actually address Artimays directly on her bein' unwelcome, when she was indeed unwelcome, da udder day!"

Faruja Senra has posed:
Faruja's tail trembles lightly. He wants to strangle the little bastard. But he calms himself.

"If ye believe that to be the case, then ye know my calling ill, Ser Queegma. My 'target' was not the Heretic. My objective was to save the Father's life, and that of the parishioners. To abandon /them/ would be a great Sin. The Heretic shalt be caught. I was /praised/ for my work, my superior is most pleased with the Father still remaining alive despite the forces arrayed against us." Counters the rat.

"He blessed us both, that whatever horrid curse hath befallen the Lady was broken."

Here, he turns to Morrighan, and manages a smile. The rat's had a bad week, but he's come out glowingly for it all. "Ye do seem to attract it. 'Tis why ye should be assigned a guardian, my dear. Think nothing of it, ye were hardly in control of thyself." Suggests the rat.

Morrighan Alazne has posed:
Faruja wasn't the only one who wanted to strangle the little bastard. Or in her case; riddle him with bullets. But no. She wasn't here to fight this day.

"A guardian...Yes, that does seem like a sound idea. Considering the amount of times I have been kidnapped, tampered with, and otherwise accosted, a guardian would alleviate most of that." Back when she was still with Baron, that 'guardian' was Kaydin, but now...

Morrighan sighed at the thought, shaking her head. Queegmaa's irritating voice was ignored for the most part. She felt that if she so much as entertained his presence, she'd be pulling a gun on him. "...By the way, Ser Senra; you seem to be familiar with this person whose name I will not deign to utter. Why is this?"

Surely this /thing/ wasn't an ally. She hoped to god not. ".....?" Right around then, she felt a slight wetness on her hand. The one she'd used to hold the fruit. "...Ergh! Ew! Disgusting!" The dark elf complained loudly, shaking her hand quickly. At that point, she'd begun to feel a slight sickness in her stomach. "...Guh! Esuna! Esuna!" She chanted quickly, a white light washing over her and purging whatever was setting in.

Once that was over with, Morrighan settled down, brow twitching in growing anger. "...Permission to destroy this insect, Ser Senra?"

Queegmaa has posed:
Que coughs a little bit when Faruja corrects him on what his mission was, and he remarks, "Ah.... yuh were tryin' ta save that preacher? Well, who's ta say he wudn'ta got away anyhow? I says that 'e was alive ta start, 'n 'e was alive when all was done.... but we're still minus a church, when ya add up eryding. I also dun guess dat you do much accountin', since you in no egghead, which jus' 'appens ta be /MY/ department!" He rubs his temple, "Now.... da bottom line is..... yer 'sposed ta be some kinda fighter, 'n my job is ta mainly spread da word o' Faram. So, when I was in dat lil shrine helping da fadder wi' 'is sermon, I done my job tuh da letter. Whatever praise ya got from yer spearer, I's sure I got tenfold dat.... So ya see, Mister Fartjee, maybe /part/ o' yer job was ta see da priest saved, but /part/ o' yer job was ta apprehen' dat foul infidel.... 'n ya din do dat!"

He cackles, "But I wager it's an improvement if ya even did 'affa yer job crektly, dis time 'round." But, he's not even close to finished scolding Faruja, and proceeds with his former point, "Now.... when ya roun' up da numbers... ballpark esteemiht is dat a church like dat costs, fifty thousand munny. Da edjeekashun costs fer a priest is about dirty-dousand.... So, morality aside, 'n not considerin' dat of 'uman life.... we acksheeally /lost/ munny." By now, Faruja must have been pissed that Que dared to put a monetary value on life, but since he was sort of the church's new accountant, he was technically 'just doing his job', which meant that he was only /bordering/ on speaking untruth.... but not quite!

As soon as Morrighan started to declare that she wanted to destroy an insect, Que raised a hand to his ear, as though straining to 'overhear' something that was quite audible, "What's dat? Fardjee.... yer friend wants ta kill some innocent arthropod! I dun see no insects nearby but dat one over dere!" with that, the troll points to a beetle that was crawling on the ground, "One 'o da flock is feelin' wickt!" He frowns, "Maybe I oughta suggest ta Bishop Emerald dat we need tuh increase taxes in dis part o' town ta pay fer ta support our church services, if our people are so misguided as ta be wantin' ta randomly kill God's creashures!" The kappa knew well and good that Morrighan was paid well, and didn't really need too much cash, but it still would have been an inconvenience for her income to be reduced, even if it was an incredibly petty way to retaliate.

Faruja Senra has posed:
Faruja just shakes his head lightly. Arguing with the kappa is generally useless. "No doubt." Indeed, the rat's eye narrows. If he hadn't the ear of a Bishop, Faruja would haul him off to a cell. "I hath no intention of continuing a debate that skirts upon placing value upon a hallowed Father's life. 'Tis for thine own good." Faruja makes a point of peering into the kappa's eyes there. The man's on thin ice, at this point.

"No Lady Alazne, ignore him. So strange that so much trouble ever doth follow him..." Mutters the rat. He shrugs. "Some art cursed. Now then. There shalt be no tax increases, the poor here could not afford it. By doing so, the most humble; those whom we protect would be driven away."

The rat turns to get his own food. He actually pays for it.

Faruja Senra has posed:
With that, he bows. "Good day Ser and Lady." Yup, the rat's off to finish up paperwork.

Morrighan Alazne has posed:
Every word that escaped this fool's mouth just made her angrier. She briefly wondered if anyone would miss him if she wiped him off the map. "....." And a sigh. Faruja was right of course. No need to start a fight right here in the middle of town. There were better things to do.

"Good say, Ser Senra." The elf replied in kind, shaking her head and glancing down at her basket of goods. She had everything she needed for now. She just wanted to go home. And so without sparing Queegmaa any attention still, she unceremoniously turned and walked off in another direction, the destination being her home.

"I'm beginning to think it's high time to seek other employment..." Morrighan muttered to herself as she went.

Queegmaa has posed:
The imp peers right back at Faruja when he tries to intimidate Queegmaa, and the green sprite cracks his knuckles, coughing a little bit, "Mmmmmm....... Yuh mean /YOU/ are gonna go ahead here and dictate what da tax rates /shalt/ be in various districks? Sounds almos' like yer tryin' ta impersonate a bishop...! But...." He flaps his hand dismissively, "....Since yuh have a good point, seein' dat we dun wanna hurt da poor too much, I'll overlook your slip o' da tongue, Mister Farjeel."

If Faruja is going to claim that he's discontinuing a line of thought for Que's own good, he's going to extend the very same courtesy in turn! Soon thereafter, Faruja bids them farewell, and Queegmaa also gives a bow, "Same tuh you." Biggest fib ever-- all he ever wanted for anyone and everyone was pain and suffering. As quickly as the group had assembled, it dispersed, with Morrighan and the Nezumi each going their separate ways. The dark elf had planned on a relaxing afternoon, and Que had robbed her of it; she was angry, and he was delighted. Faruja was hoping to wind down, and Queegmaa had shown he had enough power to drive him off, as well.... Evidently, he had considerable influence over others, and this gave him /much/ satisfaction.