World Tree MUSH

    Cullfield may be a small town, but it does have some small form of amenities. The local bar for instance is the place to go after work for most of the town's hardworking folk that do whatever it is that they do. It's an off hour, though; not quite quitting time for most so right now the local pub is actually fairly quiet. Good for a place to meet, though at a time like this,
    Morrigan is seated at the bar itself, with her shinki perched on top of the counter.
    The witch sips slowly from a bottle of beer while plinking at a brand new smartphone-- likely something she picked up after the cow incident with a small portion of her share of all that treasure. Mary Contrary is surfing the web, various holoscreens popping up in front of the shinki as she sips her jelly. She seems to be browing news sites, occult sites, and the Adventurer's Guild site for jobs all at once.
    "Ah, I think I found something, Master." The shinki pipes, making the Warlock's vivid green gaze peel up from her phone.
    "--Ah no, nevermind, it's just another 'swamp gas' incident..." Mary says sounding crestfallen, earning the tiny robot a light pat on the head.

    There aren't too many others in the bar at this hour of the day, but the few who are find themselves staring when someone very conspicuous walks in. As in, literally glowing. And, he has to duck slightly going through the door. The almost tentacle-like tendrils of light that his wings are comprised of brush against the ceiling.

    Morrigan would definitely recognize him, though. He approaches her at the bar as she is enjoying a beer, and cuts right to the chase. "I would have words with you, mortal."
    The bartender arches a brow at her. "Friend of yours, huh?" he mutters.

    Sip. Ssssssip.
    A slow pull of her beer and Morrigan doesn't even look over her shoulder as the bar is flooded with light.
    "Ah, he's here." Her tiny robot companion says the obvious.
    "Yep." The warlock confirms as she sets the half-empty bottle down and flicks the screen of her cellphone off, stuffing it into her robes.
    "Something of an acquaintance." She says to the barman before slowwwwly spinning about in her seat to face the Archangel himself.
    "Tyrael, right? Archangel of Justice and retribution against all that is unholy and evil?" She ventures, guessing from her time in Tristram.
    "Have a seat. I just got paid, so drinks are on me~."

    "Yes." The angel confirms when Morrigan does recall meeting him. Well at least, he introduced himself before. But not the other way around. "What is your name?" he asks of her.

    He does sit down at the bar next to her, his armor clanking loudly against the seat and the counter. But at the offer of drinks: "That is a most generous offer. However, I have no need to consume sustenance as mortals do."

    Once the mighty and noble Archangel clambers into a seat, the Warlock slowly spins herself back around to face the bar counter and plucks up her bottle. "If you change your miiiind just let me know." She says at first before pulling another sip, vivid green eyes falling half-lidded.
    "Morrigan. Morrigan Lor'osa. Warlock, Witch, Adventurer, by trade, professional Meddler, and vague ne'erdowell." She introduces herself.
    "And this," she says, indicating the tiny de-armored shinki on the counter, "is my Familiar and travelling companion, Mary Contrary. Just call her Mary for short."
    Introductions aside, she plays a single finger around the lip of her beer bottle and side-eyes the angel curiously. "And what, praytell, would a great and noble Archangel want with a no name adventurer like me, hmmmm?"

    "It is good to make your acquaintance, Morrigan Lor'osa." Tyrael replies, then turns to her familiar. "And Mary Contrary."

    "Your skill in wielding magic is considerable," he says to her last question. "As well as your familiarity with the World Tree." There is a glance toward her new phone at that last bit, though it's not exactly visible to the casual observer. "You...relieved me of a great burden in Tristram." he tells her.

    Mary raises a little hand in a tiny wave when she's acknowledged, but otherwise remains quiet because the big people are talking.
    "Well. It's most certainly interesting to make your acquaintance to say the least." Morrigan replies, but dips her head in a slow nod.
    "I happen to come from a world that's so entrenched in its binding to the tree that it's nearly lost all individual identity of its own." She admits. "So I've been used to seeing all kinds of things since I was little. Plus I've been adventurning nearly a decade now." She says before harkening back to Tristram.
    "A yes, the Archbishop. I don't think the others appreciated the ah... More 'pragmatic' approach that I tend to take in such situations. Oh well~."
    Pragmatic is one way to call it, sure.

    "I see." Tyrael answers, after listening to her brief background story. "Such knowledge is a valuable skill. A skill the Horadrim could make good use of." he remarks.

    There is a slight pause at the mention of the situation with Archbishop Lazarus. "Do not suppose that I enjoy making certain sacrifices that are necessary in order to protect Sanctuary. Many ages ago, the High Heavens and the Burning Hells entered an agreement not to interfere with the mortal realm. I fear that if my brethren learn that the demons have broken the pact, they will rescind this decision and destroy Sanctuary."

    "Consider me flattered, though I always fancied myself more... Freelance." Morrigan says when told the Horadrim would value her expertise.
    "It just makes things so much easier that way."
    Nevertheless she takes another slow sip, finishing the dregs of her drink before setting the empty bottle down.
    "Ah, an accord between angels and demons. I'm guessing Sanctuary is what you call said mortal realm in question. Well. Destroying it and all the mortals who live on it would certainly be bad for business, wouldn't it?"

    Bad for business, right. It sounded more like a mercenary sort of attitude. Tyrael nods at her last question. "Certainly, and many lives would be lost, in comparison to a single life." Namely, Lazarus'. "However, I have learned that the Archbishop's body has gone missing. Tal Rasha has begun to question whether he was truly dead..." there is concern in his voice at this.

    Now that. That makes Morrigan's eyes narrow; vivid green gaze turning to better regard the hood-shrouded figure of where the Archangel's face would be.
    "Missing? Then it sounds like I didn't finish the job." She muses. "I hate leaving things half-finished. Especially if they have the chance of coming back to bite me in the behind when I'm not looking."
    But she shrugs.
    "Though I guess that'll just be a problem to solve when it, inevitably, rears its ugly face again. Especially with several other things now on my plate."

    Tyrael regards her as she muses on the situation. "We should not wait until the demon takes action again, for it may be too late. But if you do not wish to become involved, I will send the Horadrim after him."

    He turns away momentarily, considering, then looks back to her. "I have hope that you will consider the offer of membership among the Horadrim." Hey, it might mean a more steady or stable income, after all.

    Ah there it is. The offer to join. And Morrigan's head tilts to a quizzical angle as she regards the Archangel. "Hm."
    Steepling her fingers together, she plants her elbows on the bar counter and purses her lips.
    "I have my own obligations at the moment." She admits. "But there's nothing that says we can't come to a beneficial agreeeeeeement..." She muses, eyes narrowing slightly.
    "I'll help you with your demon problem. A bit of quid pro quo. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, hmmm?"

    "And what obligations do you speak of?" Tyrael asks. Quid pro quo, as she is saying. If there is something she needs help with, maybe he can provide it. But he'd have to hear about it, first. That dark, empty visage watches her, waiting for her reply.

    And now she has his full attention!
    Morrigan snaps her fingers for the barman, who sets another beer before her and pops the cap off as she slides him a silver piece.
    "Mary, show Lord Tyrael The Thing." She instructs her shinki.
    "Yep yep! The Thing! You got it, Master." The little robot chirrups as she turns to face the Archangel.
    A hologram screen appears, showing several news reels and articles about a small fishing hamlet by the name of Imboca, and how after something washed ashore all contact with the tiny village was lost.
    "Tell me, Tyrael... Have you ever heard of the concept of Hyochakushin? It means 'The God That Drifts Ashore'."

    Tyrael turns toward Mary as she brings up a holographic newsfeed about a town called Imboca. Hm, it would appear something from the sea has cut it off from the rest of civilization. Whatever it was, it certainly can't be good. "No, I have not. How long has this village been silent? Has anyone attempted to investigate?" he inquires.

    "In pre-seafaring Japan, before Samurai William brought the secret of keels and ocean-going vesselsfishermen were limited to the coastal waters their small ships could take them to. They eked out a subsistence living harvesting what was in reach. But every now and then, the oceans would deliver a bounty beyond imagination..." Morrigan begins to explain. "Whales would sometimes come inland, or beach themselves on the shore. Fisherman hunted these whales in the shallows and gutted them on the beaches, and the sheer amount of food, fuel, and resources just one whale would give to the village was extraordinary to the point where they went from being seen as a gift from the gods, to being seen as gods themselves... Cults would form around these gutted whales, worshipping them and their bounty."
    This is when she turns that vivid green gaze from the holoscreens to Tyrael once again.
    "But they're not always whales. Sometimes these 'gods' are something far more sinister. Personally, I think that's what's in play here, considering how the entire village went radio silent in the span of a week and anyone who's gone investigating has wound up missing or found dead."

    "Hm." Tyrael listens to the tale. Mortals coming to worship things they didn't quite understand...yes it seemed rather typical. And it would appear that this time, it was a rather sinister thing.

    "I see. Are you connected to this village in some way, then?" he asks, assuming this was one of the 'obligations' she had been talking about.

    "Not personally." Morrigan says as Mary turns off the holoscreens. "But it's something I'm certain my... Patron would like me to look into." She says at length. "I'm under a bit of a contract, you see." She says mildly.
    "In exchange for a few... Benefits, I have to look into matters like this and make sure they don't get out of hand. And I'd rather not do it alone."

    "Patron?" Tyrael echoes, trying to think of something similar in his world. But she speaks of contracts--that part he understands well enough. "What sort of being is this?" he asks.

    "Very well, I will assist you in your investigation of this village, and in whatever action may need to be taken to restore order and prosperity to Imboca."

    "My patron is very private and would prefer I not divulge too much information about them." The witch says, raising a single finger. "But, part of my contract requires me to go about and do as much as I can for the greater good of the Tree and its worlds. So here I am, living in the back of my minivan, roaming from place to place zotting bad guys for fun and profit." Morrigan says, before flashing a sharp-toothed smile.
    "Gooooood... We'll deal with Imboca and I'll help with your demon problem, easy as that."

    "Very good. When you are ready, return to Tristram and seek out Tal Rasha. He will divulge any further information regarding the matter." Tyrael tells her.

    Another pause, as he considers Morrigan's words about her patron and the requirements of her contract. "Tell me, Morrigan--what led you to sign such a contract?" he asks. "You spoke earlier of your preference to working alone instead of under the guidance of another."

    Seek out Tal Rasha back at Tristram. Easy enough. She can do that when the time comes. For a moment, Morrigan pauses to take a long sip of her second beer, before she purses her lips.
    "My patron is very hands off. As long as I work for the greater good of the Tree and its worlds I'm pretty sure that makes them happy. And when they're happy, I'm happy, so it works out fairly well enough." She explains, drumming her fingers on the counter. "As for why I picked this path? Well that's a story for another time, I think, Lord Tyrael~."

    "The Horadrim are similar. Although they act under my direction, the methods by which they carry out the task of protecting Sanctuary or any other world that may come under the influence of the Burning Hells is very much of their own choosing. There are few circumstances within which I have deemed it appropriate to oversee personally. Furthermore, they possess many relics and artifacts that may prove of value to advancing your own magical skills." Tyrael replies. 

    "As Sanctuary has become a part of the World Tree, the necessity of knowing its intricacies has grown with time. As such, they are in need of a specialist who would be well-adjusted to dealing with otherworldly matters." Who would have thought she'd be listening to a recruitment pitch from an archangel today?

    He is a bit disappointed at her refusal to tell him her story, at least for now. But he doesn't push the issue. "Then I anticipate the day, whenever it may come. And please, I am no lord over you, Morrigan Lor'osa. Even if you should oblige the offer of joining the ranks of the Horadrim, I would much prefer it if you considered me... a friend."

    "Huh..." Relics and artifacts do pique the Warlock's interest as she drums her fingers on the counter once more. "Well..."
    "I just so happen to be a well-adjusted specialist." She muses. She certainly didn't expect to hear the recruitment pitch.
    "Tell you what... If things go smoothly in our coming joint ventures... I'll consider throwing my lot in with the Horadrim. Heh."

    Tyrael nods. "A reasonable judgment." he says, appearing to be satisfied with that for the time being. Then he gets up from the bar and makes his way out. "Good day to you, Morrigan."