[closed] DANGEROUS GAME

[esquive]

WHO: Kylo Ren, Anna, Etienne, and Marcoulf
WHAT: In exchange for his support at the front lines, a small group has been dispatched to clear bandits from the Comte Chantral de Velun's estate. Spoilers: they're not bandits.
WHEN: Early Harvestmere
WHERE: Orlais, the Heartlands
NOTES: CW: violence, death, murdering innocent folks on the behalf of THE RICH, setting-typical discrimination; it's not great, bob. ASSIGNMENT INFO

The Orlesian Heartlands bloom in every season. In Spring, it is daisies and apple blossoms; in Summer small white flowers and black-eyed susans and poppies all red; and here at the beginning of Autumn the trees burnish themselves and black-green and golds, yellowing grasses ceding to white limbed poplar with their spinning coin leaves. Even far from any field for growing in, the Velun lands paints itself in harvest colors. The land and air recognizes what Celene might not yet admit - that change is a season rotating, and that some things have been the same for long enough that they insist on circling.

Comments

cw: gore / stuff with teeth /

[sangsues]

HARVESTING MATERIALS.
Étienne Beaumanoir is a pragmatist. This is an assignment, yes, but it is an opportunity in the same way that the battlefields mages and templars met on had been an opportunity. He proceeds through the remains calmly, watchfully, lest there be some survivor or someone hiding, waiting to leap out for their vengeance. Using the toe of his boot, he pries open a mouth, shakes his head, and moves on.

Stooping down, Étienne has a dagger ready in one hand, and draws a leather pouch from his belt, as he tips back the heads of another of the fallen, examining their teeth. Not good enough, he concludes, and reaches for another lying alongside, pulling down their jaw. Better.

Another glance, and he draws out a set of pliers, and begins to slowly work the teeth out of the elf's mouth, inspecting them, and dropping each into the bag. He continues at this.


PREVENTING POSSESSION. (solo or group threads?)
Pulling the bodies together had been a messy task. It reminded him of years ago, before his training, his learning, hefting bodies up over his shoulder and tossing them like so many sacks of flour. Étienne draws a silk handkerchief from his duplet, and wipes blood from his cheek, as the flames slowly begin to lick about the damp wood they have had to resort to using. It will not be discrete, he fears; if the smoke is too much it may be wise to draw away from the bonfire, lest it draw some curiosity.

He looks to the person closest to him, and nods. "Do you have a flask of water?"

stuff with teeth

[notched]

While Anna would never deny being a grave robber, there is robbing the dead of their possessions and there is robbing the dead of their essence. She's seen too many corpses piled high, robbed of their eyes, teeth, organs. Is that what this was all about? Was that why the medic had come with them? The thought makes her clammy and nauseous.

"And what unholy experiments do you conduct?" It doesn't come out as snarling as she would have liked, instead she sounds as sick as she feels.

[sangsues]

"These are not for experiments," he replies, still paying mind to the teeth moreso than the woman. "I am a physician, and dentures cannot be made without teeth." And he had patients who would enjoy the novelty of a set of elven teeth, he knows.

Satisfied he has all he need from this body, he stands, and steps over it, and towards the next. "But there is nothing wrong with furthering the medical field. Attempting to find a new medicine is hardly unholy, if you consider that experimentation."

[notched]

Teeth were not a problem in Yharnam, where most citizens had turned into flesh-hungry beasts-- with fangs to spare. The explanation does not soothe her, neither of them.

"That depends on the side effects," she mutters grimly, arms crossed over her body as she watches him. She mostly wants to look away but refuses to give in to the impulse. "Who is to blame when your medicines are actually poisons?"

[sangsues]

"My medicines are based in research and science. If you'd be happy to see people die through lack of treatment and progress impeded..." Etienne shrugs.

And he looks around them both, the corpses littered about them. "I think most people are more in danger of blades than medicine."

[notched]

"Some are meant to die."

Meant to die rather than be mutated by what the cures did to them. What would her life be like now, if she had let her sister just die. If she had never gone to Yharnam looking for the blood. Her sister -- Grace -- had died anyway. She'd just done it alone instead of with Anna at her side. At least she'd died human.

[sangsues]

"They are," he agrees, with a sigh. "All of us eventually, and some sooner than others."

The bag of teeth is slipped away, for now. "I will not apologise for my attempts to give people more time. If you do not agree with my methods, all you need do is not attend my practice, but there are many who prefer the attempts of an honest man who makes no deals with demons, than putting their faith in mages."

[notched]

"None of you are honest," she replies, dismissive of the entire notion. "You're all half necromancer, playing with bodies like you have a right to. I'd rather bleed to death."

It may be the most expressive string of words she's said this entire mission, and she doesn't say more. Still huddled into herself and her coat, she walks away to skulk or prowl or fuck knows what she does alone at the edges of their group.

[sangsues]

"Then please, feel free." Somehow he makes that sound terribly polite, even as he rolls his eyes at her retreating back. No, necromancy was the realm of Nevarrans, with their demon worship and blood magic, but he can hardly expect a rifter to grab such nuances.

Left in peace, he returns to checking the mouths for potential donations. Waste not, and so on.

Preventing Possession

[letoldthingsdie]

Kylo was watching the flames slowly build, helping to move bodies with relative ease before that. They were lifeless bits of flesh and bone now. Better to burn them and let them become ash. He was glad someone had thought to do it before him. It gave him something to do, either way. Upon being addressed, Kylo nods and pulls one from his pack. After a moment of rummaging in what little supplies he brought, he holds it out to the other man.

"Here." He didn't make it a habit to carry much with him. All he should need was his blade.

[sangsues]

"Thank you," the doctor murmurs, taking a sip of the water, and then pouring a little onto his handkerchief, and starting to wash the blood and sweat from his brow.

"In future, I'd suggest we keep them nicely grouped together when we need to take more severe steps."

It's not lightly said, for all the terribleness of the comment. No, Etienne looks grave, as he re-stoppers the water, and holds it back out to the rifter. "What do you imagine they will want to put in the report?"

Not the truth, surely.

[notched]

"That the bandits have been dispersed," Anna answers blandly, dumping another body into the fire. She doesn't exactly believe them about this 'possession' business, but she would also rather not find out one way or the other. She also knows entirely too well how one glossed over murdering civilian folk in the name of a mission. It's all she's been doing since she joined the Hunt.

[letoldthingsdie]

Kylo takes the water back and sets about inspecting himself for blood as well. The good thing about gloves was his hands were kept clean of it in the literal sense. Lightsabers cauterized a wound just as quickly as they caused them.

"Are you suggesting we lie to the Forces leader? I'm sure she'd love that. Just be clear that they became aggressive and we assessed the threat accordingly." His tone is dry as he moves on to his mabari, trying to rinse as much blood from his face as he can. It stuck to him as Kylo tried dousing water over his snout and the dog lapped it up, still licking his teeth where flesh and bone had surely caught in between.

"I'm not writing the report, so do what you like. I did my part." He sighs, shaking his head. Seriously, what were they even going to say? It wasn't as if they were in the wrong for this. If they attacked them, they were attacking other people. Clearly that made all of this justified.

[sangsues]

"I am suggesting we omit elements that will see us condemned," Etienne replies, just edging on sharply. "Not advertise that we are doing so."

He shakes his head. "The Inquisition is full of people with soft sentiments towards the elves. We have done what's necessary, but likely they'd see us villainised for our pragmatism."

[esquive]

The stench of the fire as it begins to builds is unpleasant in its familiarity and there seems to be no direction where one can stand upwind of it or the fingers of smoke that have begun to hang uselessly in the air above them. There's very little breeze to speak of and most of it doesn't dip down here among the copse of trees to chase it away. Marcoulf tosses a rolled up piece of canvas that had been seeing use as a shelter onto the fire.

"I'll mind the reporting." There's a hand or two he might trust to write it as it should be. "Commander Coupe will need to know the basic pieces to this, but if it's as Etienne says" --and he knows it is; he isn't stupid-- "then better not to say much about it elsewhere."

[notched]

There's no visibility to the look on her face, all covered up and looking like a killer, but she finds some ugly, spiteful irony in anyone here protesting being villainized. Then again, maybe they were all too small and aimless to be so important as villains. She keeps her thoughts to herself.

[letoldthingsdie]

"If they're soft, it's for a reason." He shrugs, conceding that he is right about the pragmatism. "Omit what you like. I doubt the Division leaders are fools. Coupe wouldn't have sent warriors if she expected the elves to be all in one piece. If they wanted diplomats they should have sent diplomats."

As long as they burned the bodies, he didn't care. Elves, humans - they were all the same to him. He didn't care terribly much about their oppression. It was something that predated his arrival in this place. It wasn't as if letting these elves live would have suddenly changed their circumstances.

"And what of the two children? Do we just turn them loose?" His gaze lifts from the fire to the two children who still remained. All their adult companions were dead. They sat crying to themselves, huddled away from the four of them who burned the bodies. They hadn't killed the children but they knew what happened here. If Etienne wanted it kept quiet they'd be hard pressed to find it completely concealed if these children spoke up.

harvesting materials

[esquive]

There's work to be done after the most obvious matter is settled and Marcoulf is at it now, sorting through the scattered belongings of the ramshackle encampment. Garbage there, anything that might have value here, had been the direction. He's taken a seat now on an overturned log alongside one of the small fire pits and is fussing one handed through the second pile, tossing out the things most useless to be carried back. Tin cups. A dull knife. A carved wooden bird call.

The small cracking sounds of the doctor's nearby work is unpleasant; it grates at the nerves alongside the whimpering of the children where they've been sat along the edge of the wood and told to be still. He hadn't been unkind about it, he thinks, temperamental and short though he is from the wound on his off arm.

Another tooth is wrenched free. Marcoulf grimaces. "Must you?"

[sangsues]

"I must," is his simple response. "Some of these people have excellent teeth. I'll not see others starve because I am in the company of the squeamish."

Dentures, Marcoulf. Important and lucrative.

[esquive]

A bag of pretty dark stones carved into small animals is upended, scattering over the leaves. Fine, the gesture seems to say.

He thumbs through the little animals, then replaces them back into their bag - tucks the packet inside his coat and makes a mental note to see give them to the boy when they're done here and have seen him and his sister into the care of-- someone. He'll put his mind to that problem when this one is closed.

In Orlesian: "Is there something you can give them? To quiet them." Marcoulf tips his head to indicate the white faced children at the edge of the encampment.

[sangsues]

"Where there any pigs?"

He'd caught sight of the animals out of the corner of his eye, and is silent for a moment as he absorbs that question, and looks to Marcoulf with a brow raised. "I've a tincture that helps to soothe anxious nerves and insomnia, amongst other ailments."

Marcoulf probably doesn't want to know what's in the tincture.

[esquive]

Does anyone ever want to know what's in the tinctures?

"Let's make sure they have it then when we leave here, then." He'd rather not fight with a child the whole way back to the village. He's had enough of being slapped and scratched at this afternoon.

Marcoulf fetches up a flat wooden case, opening its latches. Flatware. Someone at the village will be missing it. It gets tossed to the pile to take with them.

"Two pigs."

[sangsues]

"Two?" Etienne smiles, and it's not terribly pleasant. "Leave one here, then. A marker for the fallen."

With a sigh, he reaches towards his bag, and pulls it closer. Opens it up, and pulls out a bottle of dark brown glass, swirling the liquid within. "A potent brew, but it will see their spirits soothed a while. Normally I recommend three drops beneath the tongue three times a day. They may not be so compliant as my usual patients."

Nor so inclined to pay proper coin.

[esquive]

Etienne earns a flat look for the matter of the marker, but no more. Maybe if there were a scorpion or snake - damn that woman with her needle and damn him for being so foolish about it. He'll be useless to Six in the training yard for some time without the full strength in his offhand for parrying.

"I can hold them if you need an assistant, doctor." Kylo Ren would be a better assistant for that work, but Marcoulf can picture what might happen if one of the children were to bite him and the work involved with it seems unpleasant.

[sangsues]

"Thank you. That would be best."

The vial is pocketed, so that it might be easily grabbed momentarily, and he wipes his hands with a handkerchief.

"Will you need treatment, once that is done?"