Distillation of Apurist's Trade

[Bashkim Shori]

'Casval' stepped into the bar with no real intent apart from enjoying a few drinks and unwinding after the first day at the new job. He was about as emotionally invested here as could be expected of a sociopath who abandoned his parents, and almost ended up seducing his own sister by accident. That was certainly... Embarrassing would be the term. And he did not like the climate here nearly as much as home. Too dry. Too Hot. But it would have to do. And he would need to invest in a very strong air condition and humidifier for his domicile.

He was currently suffering in his cossack and dress shirt and dress pants, sans any tie combo for work. He was not a fan of 'changing skins' unless he was changing skin from the man who called himself Casval in daily life unless actual forms were involved... And the man who WAS Casval. And that skin was patently socially unacceptable. As far as he had found anyways. He was still looking for a place that encouraged cosplay and alcohol at once. He might never leave. But still. He slid through the bar, choosing to be fairly unaware of his surroundings, having heard nothing out and out wrong when he entered... In any case. Once he sat at one of the stools, he waited to get the barkeep's attention, gave a winning smile, and made his order. "Mead?" Longshot, but he had done worse.

[Storyteller Joy]

The Bartender was a pretty average looking young lady who slid over a mug of Mead and nodded her head toward another customer. She wiped down the bar and gave him a quick smile. More for tips and attempts to be social then flirtatious wiggles. Average was a very good word for this girl, hell, she could have vanished into the crowd around the bar and it would have been hard to pick her out of it. She... Blended.

"Hey Sugar, new around here? That'll be five bucks. Just put it down and I'll be back in a wee bit to pick it up." She whisked away to help another customer.

Around him the bar was pretty quiet, the soft murmur of various conversations... Some patrons, already well into their cups, drooped heavily forward. Some loud patrons sat to one side watching some sports on the TV above it.

It only took a few minutes for her to cycle back and pick up the money- and whatever tip he left for her. She leaned her elbows on the bar and looked toward the TV before looking back at him. "Your starting to become one of our Regulars. Did you want any dinner tonight?"

She glanced toward the door and whistled softly. "I wonder what they are doing here..."

If he looked toward the door two people in suits were walking in, both seemed a little uncomfortable to be bar diving.. in fact, the younger of the two practically seemed skittish. They both screamed... cop?

The bartender shook her head and motioned one of the waitresses to go over after they settled into a booth.

"I guess the investigation isn't going as well as they hoped." The bartender made a disappointed "clucking" noise with her tongue.

[Bashkim Shori]

He nodded to her, with the faintest of smiles. "Thank you~ Indeed, I have moved from colder, wetter climes. A northern land of sea and rainforest, and came in pursuit of wealth, stability, and escape from obligations." He gave a warm smile, and placed a ten on the bar, before pondering who he wished Casval to be... Well, he had spoken already, and he was rather Aryan looking... Ah well. "Ahh, what do you recommend, ma chere?" French should do. He could use a friend. Or hell, more than that if she wanted. He was idly keeping an eye on the room around him, not wanting to lose the moment of warmth the drink was giving him. A sip of mead... And a familiar warmth in the entirety of his blood. "Excellent Mead... Better than home. The fire to it, I can feel it in my blood, and that is what it is here for... The clime I think, changing the flowers? Perhaps..." He smiled. "My apologies. I muse on the internal." He did not often think in silence. She mentioned others, and when he looked over... He frowned. "Poor bastards... You know what, shoot them both what I am having, on me. I am going to go uplift their spirits." He took his drink in hand, and left a twenty on the bar, walking to go address the two boys in blue.

"What has the blue so blue? Anything a red can help with?" He gave a winning smile. "Two mead coming for you lads. Courtesy of a hopeful friend. Might a Canuck share the seat, and lend an ear?"

1990103981 +2 Charm Roll to get them to allow him to join them.

+2 Charm Roll to get them to open up and talk about their day.���

[Storyteller Joy]

((Honestly the one roll is fine for me... it's kind of "stated" as one movement, "can I join you and lend an ear.." Success = 9.))

The two looked up at him then the older one nodded and nudged out a chair with his foot. "Have a Seat. I'm Jackson. You have a pretty good eye for spotting a cop eh? Or does the day just drag on us?" He gave a small, self bitter grin and stretched out his hands so they finally came to rest on the very beginnings of a potbelly. He nodded his head to the waitress that set down the mugs. "Not much to talk about. That's the biggest damn issue. Not enough information. Plenty of witnesses. Plenty of a lot of things, and not a damn bit of good it does us."

He took a drink of mead... and the younger of the pair spoke up - His glass was mostly gone. "It was Our case. Not anymore. Guy was dirty. We almost had enough evidence to get him too. We were raiding his office when I spotted him take off. Had an APB out on him. Then he attacks the last of his victims on the beach, before any black and whites hit the sand, the guy tumbles right into the damn ocean and vanishes! Vanishes! Witnesses say he attacked a kid, not 100 pounds dripping wet, and she knocked him back, he fell into the ocean and poof. Witnesses have video of the entire thing. No one's lookin' to hard for him." He sighed.

"Point is. Glad he's gone and done the world a bit o' good. Now we have a massive amount of paperwork and none of the satisfaction of seeing him brought up in a court of law." Jackson took another healthy dose of his mead. "Course now we can't find the girl, or the boy who came to her rescue. Child services is havin' a pretty fit over that one. I wouldn't be surprised if they put out the media dogs on it tonight to see if anyone spots them makin' a run for the border. Me. I think that kid wanted to save his girlfriend and had some strings or something in the sand. Something small enough that it wouldn't pick up easy on camera."

"Good for him". The younger cop quipped as he mourned his empty glass. He signaled over the waitnress. "So you said your from Canada? Why did you come down here? Canada's beautiful country."

[Bashkim Shori]

"It was a combination of factors. But I was fortunate enough to be talking to the darling lass cross the bar, who mentioned your investigation was not going well. I could tell you were in need of a sympathetic ear from the long faces, and drained movements." He gave a soft smile. "And I am not going to deny the Law its reprieve should it be in my power to give it."

Sitting, he seemed as if he was entirely at home here, adopting an easy, relaxed stance. "Hmm. So it is a case of the information you have being of no use. Curses." He seemed as displeased by it as they were...

At what the younger said however, Casval stiffened. Disappeared into the sea? Something deep and primal was struck. Something in his core. It did not seem impossible to him. But it seemed an abuse of power. Newtypes were supposed to defend the Oldtypes, and lead them to a better world. George Glenn was the Co-Ordinator, the Regulator, the one who should have guided the way, not this waste of space!

Casval made a note to watch the footage the next chance he got. And when he knew what his quarry looked like, he would end him. Char had sought vengeance over nobility, but Peter was Casval, not Char. "It is possible. World War Two British Agents used Garrote Wire with industrial diamonds threaded through it. Given modern technology, it would not surprise me if he had something similar, but had weaponized it." He made sure to put in an order for a plate of wings and a burger, something to keep him from getting completely hammered, while he ordered his second mead, drained his current mug, and let the chill fire soak into his bones. The wings were for the table. The burger was his, and he would defend it to the death.

In response to the officer's question however... "I did not wish to remain the man I was within the Queen's borders. So I became a different man. I left a life that did not satisfy. The excellent salary I am making down here is enough to see me stay in California, though I am mourning the Cold and the Humidity."

[Storyteller Joy]

"Fair 'nuff" the younger of the pair stated. The two kept up polite conversation with Casval, until such time as he, or they, decided it was time to head home. As they parted company, the older cop handed him a card with his name "Phil Jackson", and his contact information. Should Casval ever get in a place where a police officer might be of assistance, or to catch another drink sometime. The younger seemed far less steady on his feet and might have offered one of his own, had he not been listing to far to one side.

The footage the two had talked off wasn't that hard to find. In fact, when he turned back toward the bar, the Nightly News was playing it.

"And so, after four hours of searching, the search has been called off for the night. There is no sign of the body of Director Richard Cunningham or the young woman he was attacking at the time." As the anchor talked, the footage showed a rather discheiveled older gentleman with a red face shouting at a pale young girl, blond and very pretty, who couldn't have been much soaking wet- the older man clearly meant to do physical harm adn the way she flinched away - it was not new. --- Several of the bar patrons grumbled under their breath and the story seemed to have attracted many in the bar. The cellphone camera footage was a little shakey but it clearly captured a green haired, fedora wearing gentleman in a black suit walk between them, his mouth moved and his eyes flashed almost golden in the sunlight. The older man lurched forward, almost drunkenly then a strong gust of wind that blew sand, hair... and the tipsy older gentlemen right out into the ocean. The ocean seemed to drag him backward until there was a mini-whirlpool.... two hands fralling in the air... and Nothing. The Ocean went back to being normal waves crashing on the edge of the sand just as the sun slid out of sight and the camera lighting got dark...

The two, man and the young woman, walked away together after she fell to his feet crying. "--- Anyone with any information on this young woman, or this young man are encouraged to call the local police department. They are not wanted for any crimes, but police would like to speak to them. Again, the search has been called off for former director of child services for the LA area, Richard Cunningham.---"

The bartender twitched the tv to an episode of the simpsons and rolled her shoulders. "I know that guy." She gave Casval a grin. "His name is Ren. It's the eyes that give him away... and that green hair. He's a nice guy. Usually comes in for a drink when he's in town. He usually takes care of problems. I would be surprised if that poor girl wasn't apart of some slave trade deal. That's usually what Takashi's cleaning up after. One more for the road, Sugar?"


((OOC~ When you leave the bar please roll a "Read a bad situation" roll.))

[Bashkim Shori]

Affable, uninteresting unless they tried to find something, and most importantly more interested in their lives and work by far, he kept a pleasant, not entirely artificial smile. He accepted the card gracefully, enjoyed his drink, and better position in peace, looking at the TV with a mask of indifference. And then one of annoyance with the entire situation. Someone would pay. He felt that part of himself that dealt with the injustice in the world roar in indignation. Arioch, Arioch, Blood and Souls for ARIOCH! He made sure that even in his mind, he pronounced it 'Air-Ee-Ock'. Domine worked with Moorcock, and they pronounced it that way for a reason damnit.

He did not give much of anything in reaction to the nearly pseudonatural abilities he saw. It was... Uncannily like his own, but he would not let his mind fret over it. He had more important concerns while he was in public. Such speculation belonged at home while he was smoking a good cigar. Richard Cunningham. If Pe... If Casval Ran into him, he would ensure that man got his. In the name of Arioch, he swore that. Listening to the Bartender, Casval raised an eyebrow. "Slavery? I had thought that it was more controlled than to function in the First World." He ground his teeth. "No, I think I should stay within my limits for tonight, Ma Chere. Thank you." Paying his tab, and leaving a tip, Casval left, keeping a decent pace, and most importantly making sure he did not seem unsteady, or drunk.

927097237 + 0
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[Storyteller Joy]

He had only a small hint that there was something about to be complicated. It started when an old homeless woman started following him. She was unclean, and whenever he looked over near her she'd find a reason to search a trashcan, stare into space and the few twinkling stars stubbornly making it through the haze of light pollution. Now... either it's because he stopped, or because she just caught up with him...

One dirty, grubby hand caught on his jacket. "'cuze me, sir" Her voice was slurred, but the two bright, clear brown eyes rested deep in her face, almost too large for it. "'cuze me, sir" Her fingers tugged insistently on his sleeve. "Yer goin' the wrong way."

She had a large nose that slightly resembled a potato. Her shoulders hunched in deep toward her center. She only came up to his chest. Perhaps she was taller if she didn't scrunch down toward her center of gravity? There was no obvious sign of anything like a gun or a knife- just an old rag covered woman.

"Got a bite to eat?"

[Bashkim Shori]

"... Actually... Not on hand. But if you give me a moment." He smiled warmly. She was harmless. "Do you have a preference of what is in the area? I still have a small period of time, and if you believe I am going the wrong way... I can lend an ear." There was no charm, no supernatural power behind him. Just a sincere compassion for those who are less privileged than he. Besides, she might be entertaining. Mostly that. He was pleasantly buzzed, and warm.

[Storyteller Joy]

She cackled, yup cackled, like a fire on a cold day. She looked up at him, her eyes studying his face. "Is that the mead talking, my boy, or a genuine not caring for taking an old woman into one of dem fancy restaurants?" It was a strange moment that overtook him, a strange sense of vertigo- like the world, for just a moment, shifted without him to one side before returning.

She nodded her head to herself. "You seem like a good boy. I'll give you a wee present hmm?"

She reached into one dirty pocket and with drew two things. One was a ticket to Disneyland. The other was a pale gray stone that, when he touched it was far warmer then it should have been. "Everything is so magical at Disneyland. You might even find something you don't expect there. A new adventure. A new life. It's all entirely possible." She shuffled the pass and hte rock into his hands- being a bit pushy if needed.

"You seem like a good boy. We have to be more secretive now, yes. Now that They are watching. But you are a nice boy. You don't see just with your eyes. You'll be good. I know."

[Bashkim Shori]

"I am no more held in bondage by mankind's false perceptions, than the Beast. I will associate with those I choose." He remained warm in expression. "I remember bad times." He did not allow the vertigo to overcome him. He opened his eyes wider, associating it with the sensation of danger incoming, scanning his surroundings at the feeling he remembered. Were there but a streak of lightning before his eyes, he would react to it with the same propensity as Rau. He may idolize the original, but he full well knew which he was. "Oh... My thanks, but I can not... Ask that of you." He took them in hand, but he responded. "I can not allow a gift to go unanswered." He handed her what petty cash he still had on him, somewhere in the range of a hundred dollars. "I know it does not pay in full, but go with the Divine Protection of the Stars..." He lowered his voice. "Who are they?"

[Storyteller Joy]

The old woman look positively delighted that he still answered her gift of his kindness with yet more kindness. She pocketed the money humming happily.. in deed, for a moment it appeared almost as if she had forgotten he was there. Then she smiled to him brightly and reached out to take his hand. "Come come. Disneyland is probably to scary ... I will take you myself. Make sure the transition is not bad. Well. It is always bad, isn't it?" She muttered to herself, looking left, then right then toddling out into the street... of course if he but tugged on his hand he'd be free- her grasp was far from iron clad.

"They are watching of course. Lords of your world and mine.... But we're fighting back, calling the old blood, like you. Who are not what they seem under the skin. I still have deep ties with the earth and my kind have always been humble and not worth watching. My name on this world is Sue. My name on the other world is not." She canted her head backward, almost -almost not at a natural angle before she bobbed her head and led him down another street. "There is no portal tonight, of course... There are only certain times when they can be open, you know. Sometimes it's the time of day, others it's important days. The twentith, for example, spring Equinox is one of those days when even I can reach across and find a thread." She sniffed and turned again. "My home I take. You can go or leave, but know where it is- that's what is important. So if you decide to come you can find me again. I will be here until Fall. Then another will take my place and I will go home. Winter is a harsh time. They will need me. But for now, i will watch over the growing things here."

She waddled into an older, building and entered the first door on the left. It was a darker room, but the smell of fresh growing herbs and flowers gave it a unique, earthy smell. "Home we are. Sit. Here no one will disturb us with conversations of questions, yes?"

[Bashkim Shori]

"Umm... I do not... Have the capacity for fear. I feel the sensation of fight or flight, I understand the idea of panic, but I have never felt it..." He was kind of confused by this... Scary, she was referring to. Existential despair, unsureness of ones continued existence, he understood. He had never known... 'Fear'. "None the less, Domo Arigato, I am much obliged by your kindness." He smiled faintly, keeping a polite, composed expression. He followed her, not quite understanding the situation. But it all screamed one thing to him.

Newtype.

He eventually took the proffered seat, and took a breath, before exhaling, and taking another. "Well. I am going to apologize, for I understand very little of what you are saying... But I know there is truth here... He would believe you, and so must I, for I am He by my choice, and I discarded Me by the same. Casval Rem Deikun. I was rude for not introducing myself earlier. May I have the privilege of your name, Madame?" He settled into the French that Charles Aznable would be comfortable using.

Once he had her name... "Now, can we begin from the top? If we need to make a provisions run, I can do so, and escort you, prevent any Ne'er-do-wells from doing anything foolish to you on the way... Who are these... Lords? I will slowly work my way from there, but that seems to be the pertinent first topic."

Zabi? Akin to Degwin or Gihren, as opposed to Garma, Dozle, Cicero, or Kycilia... Or perhaps not...

[Storyteller Joy]

"Zurumama. My people call me. Grain mother, in English." She wiggled back in her chair. "I have ties to the Earth. Which grounds me deep with in even this hollowed, voiceless dying planet's shell." She smiled to him politely. "I'm a goblin in my true form... And I will be three thousand four hundred and eighty seven this fall when the heads of wheat are to heavy to bear their weight." She tapped the edge of her chair. "The Lords I speak of rule both of our worlds now... In my world, like here on your Terra, humans have forgotten magic... forgotten the bonds we all swore when we left Terra. And now some of us few who are left, Guardians of the Magic, have come to Terra to find The One who will guide us back to the time when we, in our foolish natures, were swayed to allow humans to grow and manifest unmolested until they out numbered us all."

Her voice trembled, but it was not with sorrow, but rage. "Where I wish to take you, to see if you are the One. We must find the ones worthy to help us in our quest. it's difficult, but not without it's rewards." She tapped her chair again. "A fresh start to renew, to rebuild.. to recreate."

[Bashkim Shori]

Goblin? He stared for a moment. And then closed his eyes, exhaling. "There is more to this than I thought, Lady Zurumama. It would seem I am in the entirely wrong Genre." He chuckled a moment, sighing. "Human's overpopulating. Not unfamiliar to me. We can slaughter them, or we can take the stars for ourselves, and leave them the burnt out husk of Earth. Allow them to drain the Blue Planet dry. Or a hundred other solutions. I just need to find one." He stared. "If you say you are a mage, I must ask for proof. If I have proof... I shall gladly throw myself into the task you ask of me. I am not one to turn my nose at a chance to make war for a noble cause, nor one to toss aside a chance to fight for a shining world." And... He added to himself... I am not one to discard a chance to finaly kill the Earth Rival, and become Casval for Truth.