Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Cascastel

Her moment of peace would be short-lived. Not a minute later, a young lad in a dirty-looking coat entered the cafe rather hurriedly. He looked left, right, scanning the sea of patrons before his eyes settled in Aoife. They glinted with equal parts mischief and desperation.

"Hello. Hi. How are you." He sidled into the seat across from her, offering an apologetic (and admittedly handsome) smile. "I'm really sorry to do this to you, but you would mind pretending like we're really good friends and have been sitting together for hours?"

He was removing his jacket as he spoke, turning the coat inside-out and changing its color from black to a musty maroon. He tied it around his waste and rolled up his sleeves, reaching in his pocket for a newsboy hat.

"We could also pretend to be lovers, but I find that flusters people more often than not. Specially' if this is the first time we've met." He looked back at her. "Speaking of which, I'm Kol. It's a pleasure."

The sound of motorbikes grumbled somewhere outside, not far away.
 
The druid had just taken a bite of her pastry when the man slid into the seat opposite her. She paused for a moment, eyes wide with incredulity as she looked around, as if asking if anyone was going to acknowledge that this man had simply done the socially unthinkable. She finished her bite as he spoke, swallowing with a bit of effort as her brain continued to wrap around the thought of what was occurring.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kol, but Oi'm afraid ye've got me for a loss of words." She paused, taking a gentle, but deep breath to try and catch any strange scents he might be trailing, but she caught nothing abnormal. At least he wasn't a pack member trying to kill her. She smiled again,took a sip of her tea, and continued, the scent of mint surrounding her once more.

"Oi think Oi can help you there, though Oi'll have to ask for somethin' in return once this is said and done. So, it's great to have spent all this time catchin' up with you, and Oi'd love to hear more about your new job, Monty," she said, improvising the second line as the door opened again. She didn't know who the man was running from, but she was paranoid about who might come in, especially with how close those bikes had gotten before simply shutting off outside the cafe.
 
"The job!" Kol exclaimed, "why, oil' tell ye'about the job. Ye'd not believe this if didn't come from me'own mouth, oi'swear it."

He had, in a matter of seconds, completely transformed his person - coat went from black to red, hat covered most of his face and sunglasses his eyes. He had, moreover, perfectly captured and copied Aoife's accent.

And not a moment too soon. Three figures entered the bar as Kol and Aoife began talking. The first two looked to be about your typical biker gangsters - musclebound, grim-faced and bearded with tattoos trailing their shoulders. Aoife's heightened senses wouldn't detect anything nonhuman about them, but they certainly weren't giving off friendly vibes - glaring at the customers, clearly searching for someone.

The third was a head taller than the other and a mite older. He was broad-shouldered, a long trenchcoat draping down to his feet which were clad in tight-fitting jackboots. The nearly-spent end of a cigarette glowed between his lips. All three of them began slowly moving through the cafe.

"So oi told'ye about the gig oi'had butcherin' giant crab off the coast o'Hafirjan," Kol didn't miss a beat, "well NOW oi've got a solid bit shovelin' whale semen into pods, which the cap'n tells me get taken into a factory or somwot' and burned down for fuel. Not that I care, mind ye, the coin's good. Much better than that job you got me last year, neuterin' wild leopards in the Veshrac jungle."
 
"You weren't supposed to be neutering them, Monty. You were supposed to be tracking them and studying their reproductive habits. You know, natural things like that," she responded, sighing and shaking her head. "Oi'm surprised you didn't get fired from there sooner, y'know." She chuckled softly and then sipped her tea again, noting that it had begun to cool. She inhaled, slightly more sharply then before, and then used the small amount of natural energy she'd drawn from the air around her to warm her hands enough to rewarm her drink. A simple trick that was undeniably convenient.

"Now, why've you gone and kept yerself on that damnable ship. Oi've told you afore that that captain o'yours means nothin' but trouble for his crew. He smells too much loike cheese to be a proper captain, in my opinion." With him replicating her accent, and to an eerie precision, she had let herself relax deeper into it. She'd never really been comfortable with talking with such a heavy accent, so she'd spent years of her life working ever so slowly to reduce it down to more manageable levels.
 
"Ahhh lay off me, will ya?" 'Monty' slumped, his face actually going red. Whoever Kol really was, he was a fine actor. "You were always better with animals then oi was. Wasn't moi' cup'o'tea."

The two thugs swept through the bar, giving 'Monty' and co a once over but otherwise ignoring them. The third man remained in the back.

"Don't think he's here," one of the bikers grumbled as he returned.

The tall man took a drag from his cigarette. "Wait outside."

The bikers narrowed their eyes. "What?" One of them stepped forward.

"I said wait outside," he repeated, letting some iron creep into his voice. "The two of you are drawing too much attention to yourselves." He gestured over to the counter where a waiter and a manager were talking to each other while sparing glances in their direction.

The bikers growled but left, stomping into the streets back to their vehicles. The tall man began a slow walk through the cafe.

"As for me'captain," Kol cleared his throat, "Oi've always thought he was a good man."

The man came closer, seemingly set on the table Aoife and Kol sat at.

"Course..." Kol grit his teeth, looking Aoife in the eye beneath the rim of his glasses. His irises, a warm shade of honeyed brown, were alight with fiery warning. "...never hurts to be prepared..."

His fist clenched in the table, tensing the nearer the man came.
 
Aoife continued, as if she hadn't noticed his words had a meaning underlying their face value.

"Prepared for what? For you to get fired again, Monty? Honestly, you get chucked out one more time and come beggin' at my door, Oi'll whip you right smartly and put you to work in my fields." She huffed derisively, but the sudden rush of air from her mouth had a twofold purpose. In addition to playing through her act more soundly, it also caused the faint minty scent around her to suddenly become overpowering. If the man was so intent on their table, he'd find something of interest there, to be sure. The druid simply smiled, tuning up her senses with a bit of magic as she prepared for the worst.

As the man stepped to their table, she turned on him, as if the mint scent surrounding her didn't exist. She spoke, and waved an arm at Kol, open palm facing the ceiling in her exasperation.

"Sir, would you mind telling my fool of a brother to get his arse into high gear and look into maybe becoming a captain of a fishing vessel, rather than forever be under the knuckle of one. He's becoming a downright shame, what with being fired from near every crew what's ever taken him aboard, and while Oi could use help back at home, Oi couldn't stand to have to put up with him whining day after day about how things'll turn out better in the end." With her heightened awareness, she could almost feel how tense Kol's hands had become under the table, and while she wasn't one to oppose a good brawl, if he was hiding, she'd put her neck out first. Prey animals would stick together and hide, if they could, but when prey ran to a predator for help without knowing, there were more interesting complications that could arise.

And if Aoife O'Mag was anything, she was a predator uncaged and in full control.
 
The tall man stopped as Aoife spoke to him, nose twitching as the scent of mint overpowered his other senses. He looked between the two of them - the nonchalant Druid and the friendly-if-tensing Monty - before thumbing off his glasses and pulling up a chair to their table. His eyes were a cool, focused shade of steely blue. A scar knicked his right eyebrow.

"I'm afraid a captain isn't in his repertoire, ma'am," he said, voice smooth and low. "Thief and scoundrel, however..."

He sat down.

"Now Kol," he looked to the boy, "why did you have to go and pull this nice lady into our business?"

Kol glared at the man for a moment before finally scowling and taking off his sunglasses. The jig was up. "She's a friend, Calos. Not that you would know anything about having those," he spat, "she's of no concern to you."

"There I agree with you." The man called Calos looked at Aoife. "Ma'am, I apologize for whatever trouble this boy has caused you. Why don't you let me pay for your drink and you can leave as if nothing happened?"

Kol had gone pale, but by the way he looked at Aoife it was clear he wouldn't blame her if she took the offer. This wasn't her fight, after all. Should she meet his eye, he would offer a small smile and a nod. 'It's okay,' it said, 'thank you sticking up for me.'
 
Aoife turned and watched the man as he seated himself, uninvited, at her table. She shook her head and put her hands on her hips, watching him calmly, though she felt her anger rising inside.

"Oi'm thinkin' you might be askin' permission to sit at my table, no matter what business you might have with this man. It's downright rude of you to just sit without asking, y'know." She tried to start reining in her accent, to bring it back to more comfortable levels, but she wasn't doing well. Her anger was keeping her from truly getting it under control. As she looked at the table, briefly, she was glad to see that she still had some tea and over half of her croissant left. As she smiled at the thought, briefly, she looked up to meet Kol's eyes and saw something beyond his appreciation. He looked like he was giving up.

"And," she continued, sitting down, "If you're going to be sitting here, Oi'll be more than content to listen to exactly why a free man can be accosted by someone who dallies with thugs and brutes to go about everywhere. Oi'm all for the rule of power, since that's what Oi'm used to, but the way Oi live and the way society works aren't quite the same thing." She folded her arms across her chest, causing her bust to shift into a slightly more prominent position. She mentally huffed, wishing she'd been born a man, but didn't do anything more about it. After all, some men could get distracted quite easily when they saw flesh.
 
"Those thugs and brutes hired me, demoiselle," Calos replied matter-of-factly. He made an appreciative glance at Aoife's ample bust, otherwise keeping his eyes focused on her face. "I don't like them anymore than you do, but a man must work."

The same waiter from before stopped by their table. "Pardon me, monsieur, but there is no smoking in this cafe."

"No? A pity," he brought up his cigarette for another drag. "Will you bring me an ash tray?"
The waiter gone, Calos looked back to Aoife. "I know you must think you're doing the right thing, but this lad isn't an innocent bystander. He's a liar and a thief."

Kol snorted. "Please. Anything I stole from that gang stole it twice over themselves before I got my hands on it." He looked at the druid. "Don't let him fool you, Aoife. Sir Calos here is nothing but a ruthless mercenaries working for one of the most bloodthirsty gangs in the city - the Barrows."

Calos tensed - a loose rope drawn taught. A flicker of beastly anger claimed his face, disappearing just as quickly beneath a mask of calm. He leaned forward, glaring at Kol.

"And what does that make you, Kol?" he retorted, "a petty thief at best - a trafficker at worst. You didn't have a problem running dope for the Barrows back when they were paying you for it."

Kol stiffened. "That was before I knew-"

"Before what, Kol? You knew what they were. You're a scoundrel. The scum of the city. Don't play the innocent victim to this lady. Let her see you for what you are."

He reclined back into his seat, and Aoife might have noticed something slip out of his collar as he sat. It was a necklace of sorts - a piece of steel on a chain in the shape of the Evequec raven. It looked very similar to the sacred silver pendants worn by paladins, except this amulet was tarnished and worn - not shining and humming with holy energy, as it should have been.

"I'm afraid my patience is running thin, demoiselle," Calos sighed, "I must leave with the boy, and I must know you won't try and stop me." The hilt of a sword surface beside his belt as he lounged.

Kol's growl deepened. His hand disappeared beneath the table, gripping one of the legs. He looked to Aoife, making eyes at her hands if they remained on the table.
 
Aoife watched the back and forth with interest. She had no issues with smugglers and thieves, though poachers were people she couldn't abide. Towards the end of the conversation, however, when the pendant and hilt showed for the first time, she felt herself tense, her arms dropping to her sides. Her eyes shimmered briefly with a reflection of amber light.

"Not just a thug, but and ex-holy man, are you? Oi can't say Oi've ever really gotten along much with the church, but Oi can say that there's no respect for a man who forsakes a holy vow, no matter the reason. And if you're thinking that a knife like that is a threat to me, Oi believe you may be mistaken." She chuckled quietly, almost demurely, and while her hand covered her mouth, it showed the thinnest licks of flame, nearly invisible, running along her skin without causing harm.

"Oi've taken vows myself, Sir Calos, though the 'Sir' might be out of place if you're not holy anymore. Oi took vows more broad then your own may have been, but vows nonetheless. Regardless of whether Kol here is a murderer or a pickpocket, every man deserves to remain free. Oi would say he needs to fight his own battles, but even an outcast can still form a bond with a pack and survive." The implication, while not terribly subtle, was certainly solid.
 
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The same grimace showed on Calos' face at the mention of the Order. He quickly tucked the pendant back into his shirt where it couldn't be seen.

"You know nothing about my vows," he replied, "and nothing about me. Don't try and scare me with cheap tricks - I'm better suited to dispatching you paranormal types than most." His hand lay on the hilt of his blade. "Now be a good girl and-"

The table suddenly flew up and struck him in the chest and face, toppling the mercenary to the ground. Kol shot to his feet. Glasses shattered to the floor and the other patrons looked over with gasps of surprise.

"Aoife! Come on!" He motioned for her to follow out the front door.
 
As Kol rose, she stood as well, her muscles tensing with supernatural speed as she let her energy flow more strongly. She would pay for it later, as was the nature of her magic, but she could handle it. She'd certainly done so before, after all. With lithe motions, she vaulted the prone form of Calos and followed Kol, not sure where they would go, but excited.

As they exited into the street, however, she saw the two thick-necked thugs from before looming across the street. She waved at them almost coyly, then knelt and touched the pavement. While the medium of artificially-made stone wasn't the best for what she wanted to do, she was able to snap a tendril of power into the shrubs beside the men with enough extra energy left over for them to suddenly grow. That growth would either surround the men in wiry branches and fresh leaves as she'd intended, or it would provide a little bit of mayhem to keep the Druid and her companion safe for a moment longer.
 
"What the-" one of the thugs managed before the plant growth wrapped around his legs and torso, pulling him to the ground. Both struggled with the vegetation, rolling around in the street and cursing.

"Nice," Kol grinned, he sprinted up to the nearest thug and began rummaging through his pockets as he lay prone.

"Wyrm take you - Kol, if you touch my fucking bike-" The thug was silenced as a vine wrapped into his mouth, gagging him.

"Sorry Bill," Kol offered a flourishing bow as he fished out a pair of keys, sprinting for one of the choppers parked near the cafe.

"Aoife!" He called to her, the bike grumbling to life, "we don't have a lot of time! Come on!"
 
Aoife walked over calmly as Kol rummaged about the man's pockets. Her eyes were glowing with a soft amber light, the white of her scleras starting to absorb the golden hue. She looked at both men and smiled, blowing a kiss to them as she dashed off after Kol as he started one of the machines.

"You've given me quite the excitement this morning, Mister Kol, so let's get out of here. After all, those plants won't stay animate for too long, and Oi'd rather not deal with being shot at." She hopped on behind him, her knees squeezing his hips slightly as she wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Ready when you are."
 
Kol revved the bike as Aoife boarded. "We're not out of the woods yet - hang on tight!"

With rubber screeching, they sped down the street just as Calos emerged from the cafe - sword in one hand, pistol in the other. There was a crack of gunfire, a chunk of cobblestone exploding into powder just a foot shy of their bike tire.

"Shit!" Kol growled. He turned sharp on the handlebars, rounding a building and putting Calos out of sight.

"He'll follow us," Kol said, "we gotta' get out Cascastel. I know a place."

In the distance, the revving of other motorbikes. Calos and co would not be far behind.

Kol reached into one of the side pockets built into the bike's frame, coming up with a double-barreled shotgun.

"Don't suppose you're any good with one of these?"
 
Were it not for her already pale skin, Aoife would've paled at the sight of the gun as he pulled it free. She'd hated the things since she'd been young, ever since her father had been shot while transformed. Thankfully, Aoife managed to heal him, and the hunter wouldn't ever be a threat again. Since then, she'd steered clear of firearms, preferring to hunt by tooth and claw or by bow and spear when she had to, but otherwise she simply avoided them and lived a reasonably normal life. Well, for a woman who spent her life as a hermit in the forest, that is.

"Oi..." she stuggled, then gulped. "Oi can, but Oi'm not a good shot." She smiled to try and placate them, but her nervousness around the weapon was obvious. Even though it was still in his hand, she could feel the presence of the iron heavy in the barrels, something that only served to make her less comfortable near the weapon.

She heard the screeching of tires as one of the thugs rounded the same corner they had, and at speed no less. She shook herself back to her senses, a part of her attention remaining on the gun so nearby, before she flipped up onto her hands, her palms the only thing touching the seat behind Kol. With balance and agility an Olympian athlete could only dream of, she spun herself until she was crouched facing behind the motorcycle, one hand raised.

"Hold on, Kol. Oi'm gonna give her a bit of a kick with this..." She didn't explain what she was doing, and instead lifted both hands to her chest, balancing on the balls of her feet as she wove a dense orb of magic between her fingertips. With a flare of her arms out wide, the sphere expanded and shot off the back of the bike, shoving it forward briefly. As it flew, the sphere became milky white and stretched outwards to each side, as well as down. A few moments later and a thick web of spider-silk threads lay heavy on the pavement to snare the pursuing thugs.
 
Indeed, Calos was not far behind them, flanked by one of his thugs. Their bikes grumbled closely behind Kol and Aoife, slowly gaining on them. Calos rode with one hand, his sword brandished in the other. The blade glowed with a strange golden light, something like molten gold dripping off of the steel.

"What are you- WOAH," Kol fought for control over the arcane kickback, managing to keep the bike's steady.

Aoife's trap was well-placed. The first thug's bike tumbled over the spiderweb and stuck, the rubber snaring. Its rider was thrown forward with a cry, himself tumbling into the web and struggling in its hold.

Calos approached. Lifting high his sword, he swung the blade in an upwards arc, dowsing the webs in front of his bike in a trail of the molten light. Where it touched, the webs withered and smoked, as if scorched by a great heat. He passed through the trap, unharmed.

"Light damn him," Kol swore, looking over his shoulder, "he's not a paladin, yet he still uses Monastic techniques." He made a sharp turn, throwing a hand behind back over Aoife's abdomen to ensure she didn't fall. "Any more tricks up your sleeve?"
 
"None that wouldn't likely set half the block on fire and throw us to the ground in a hurry, and certainly one of the strongest spells I know. Those big ones tend to take a moment to set up, and we don't have a moment." She stood in a half-crouch, still balancing on the back seat as he moved the bike about, her body leaning from side to side to stay upright, like a cat on a wire.

She thought for a moment, looking at the blade that Calos held so calmly. She'd never seen magic like his, despite having practiced for years. he used natural concepts like heat and motion in ways completely foreign to her knowledge, and it itched at her under her skin. With a small sigh, she began to calm her heartbeat with steadying breaths, crouching lower to touch one hand to the moving bike for extra balance. For a moment, the wind immediately around her and Kol slacked, though their speed remained the same. As the wind continued to die down, Aoife's eyes began to glow almost as brightly golden as the sword Calos held.

"Gaoth, bogha roimh mo neart. Íocfaidh mé leat as mo chuid féin i láthair na huaire, ag tarraingt leat chun cath a chaitheamh nuair a tharlaíonn leannán póg. Bí i do cheann amháin le mo thoil, Gaoth, agus bualadh ar mo chaorach gan trócaire." The ancient words flowed from her in a voice that did not seem wholly her own. While she'd been chanting, the winds had come back, rushing around her in a frenzy, as if trying to fight her for control before they stilled and shimmered visibly, stilled.

Just as her attack was to launch, Aoife looked up, only to see the blade in Calos' hand swiping towards her. She reflexively leaned back, saving herself from grievous injury, but her left arm came up as part of the natural reaction, and the golden blade traced a thin but devastatingly painful line in Aoife's soft skin, effectively ignoring the slight enhancement to durability that it had when she used her magic.

Her spell finished, but her concentration broken, the winds let loose their fury, but directed at neither party in particular. They simply blasted apart, throwing eddies of air and vacuum around in unpredictable whirls and spirals. The force ripped Aoife from Kol's bike, and she slid across the hard pavement for a dozen or so feet before slumping to the ground, an angry red line in her left arm that bled little and smoked ever so slightly.
 
Luckily, the winds had the added effect of unbalancing Calos, who was already overextending himself with his sword swipe. The mercenary fought with his bike handles before losing control altogether. He veered into an alleyway, a deafening crash following him.

Kol hit the brakes the moment Aoife left the seat. "Aoife!" He shouted, quickly bringing the bike over to where her body fell. "Light, Aif, please tell me you're alright." He could only hope that the druids arcane protection had absorbed the brunt of the fall.
 
Her shirt was a tattered mess and she had numerous small cuts across her body where she'd slid, but when Kol knelt beside her, he found her still breathing. As he'd hoped, the variety of wards she kept about herself had taken most of the damage, and they had all been exhausted in doing so. As she came to, she groaned and brought her right arm to her left, where the cut still smoked slightly.

"Oi'm here, Kol. Where's...Where's Calos?" She looked up at him, with some difficulty. "What did he hit me with? Why are you looking at me like that?" Some of the questions didn't seem to follow others, but with the last, she took a moment to look herself over. She smiled weakly at her shirt.

With a flick of her fingers, a line of magic cut the front of the garment down the middle, then causing it to drop away from her body. Without seeming to mind the sudden bit of nudity, Aoife folded the shirt until it was a wide black strip of cloth, which she proceeded to wrap around her bust to regain some amount of modesty.
 
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