World Tree MUSH

    The squeaking of wheels announces the presence of a hand-drawn cart. Stepping from the handles and around to the side, a broad hand smacks the smooth surface of the ingots lain within. The cart is at its maximum allowance, no doubt, and would take a few beasts some measure of time to make the delivery and yet the trip was made in at least half the time. The lion man eyes the presence of the metal artisans to where the delivery is meant to go with one arm resting upon the cart's contents. 

    Another odd job. Another payment. Another meal. It's the usual for the Digimon named Rez. His wandering lends his strength and swordsmanship to those that need it and, in turn, he gets a means to fill his belly for the day. Still, this city has seen quite a lot of the beast over the past few weeks, off and on; while hunting for information isn't his strong suit, this is all a means to an end. There is a grand conspiracy at play and he is now locked, honor-bound, in a promise colored by revelation and conflict in order to seek justice for the lost and the damned. 

    The jobs are not glamorous, yet they are boring. He has had little luck running into those that might be able to shed more light on the demonic situation threatening this world or the institution that claims to have a means to cure the afflicted. As an outsider, he stands out. His asking questions has no doubt not gone unnoticed. 

    "Delivery. Did you pay for it already? I was."

    The ingots delivery was expected, and a rather bulky man with a dusty black apron comes out of the shop to meet Rez, his brows going up a bit at how the odd creature seems to be pulling the cart fully on his own power. And he's definitely earlier than expected.

    When the door swings open as the shop owner comes out, Rez might catch of glimpse of someone familiar hanging around the back...is that Inan, the distressed father he'd spoken to previously?

    "Ah, that was rather quick." the blacksmith remarks, as he signals some of his workers to start unloading the payload. "Impressive, I'd say that deserves a bit of extra, how about fifty gold, hm?" he says with a genuine smile.

    Azure eyes focus past the bulk of the man that steps forward to claim the metal. Widened at first, they then narrow in a squint. The first of the commentary on the haste of the shipment goes unnoticed, but attention is pulled back into the present at the offer of more payment. A leonine face stares blankly at the man as if trying to process the nature of such reward, but it is soon followed by the tousling of a brilliant white mane as the beastman shakes his head side to side. 

    "It would be improper to take more than I agreed upon," comes a statement that not many would agree with. "If you feel generous, perhaps there is something I can do for you in return instead." It wouldn't take the most observant to notice the way the tall lion guy's gaze is pulled back toward the figure. It would seem there is no small amount of curiosity there. "Do you want help moving the bars from the cart?"

    The smith glances over at the workers who are hurriedly unloading the cart, although they probably can only carry a few at once, even though they are pretty strong as far as humans go. "You are a most honorable man." he says respectfully. "Very well then," he gestures toward the other workers. "Just follow them." It would appear that they are moving the ingots to a storage shed on the side of the building.

    The man begins to set to work helping the rest unload the delivery himself. "Say, are you with the Horadrim? Or are you one of those 'outsiders'?"

    "Mmm. They call me an 'outsider' here, yes. I am not from here." The strange-looking and strangely-clad fellow surely has little trouble effecting a sense of ease in such a laborious task as carrying ingots. Carefully stacking a few along one arm, a supporting hand atop holds them in place while he walks. "I am here for work, yet in my toils I keep hearing whispers of those that have vanished. Tears and sadness. Mmh." 

    A sidelong glance is given to the broad man with the apron as cloth-wrapped bare footfalls bring the coat-cloaked lion person closer to the storage shed wherein he can enter and unload in turn. "The man back there. He is one of them, is he not? One that has lost and is searching?" Kneeling once able, one hand at a time unloads what would be a number of manual trips even for the strongest, but he does not do so to make a show of it. It's as much a busy chore for him as it is any other and chores need doing no matter the want of it.

    A worker exits the shed, having just unloaded his own pile, and holds the door open for Rez as he enters and starts to put away his much larger load. The blacksmith follows and starts stacking the ingots neatly on the floor and on shelves along the back wall. "Ah, so you are one of the outsiders, I see." 

    At the mention of Inan, he sighs and shakes his head. "Sadly, yes. He was once a friend, but I'm afraid I do not know him any more. He hasn't been the same since he lost his daughter in an accident. His mind has gone wild with...conspiracy theories. I know it is difficult to accept the loss of a loved one, but..."

    Once cleared of his load, the still unintroduced strange stranger takes to holding the door next, although attention is kept on the smith throughout. "A friend is a friend unless made an enemy instead." Rez is hardly wise in the way of friendships. As a loner, most of his friendship experience is heavily biased through a number of ordeals. Still, there are those that would call him friend, even if he doesn't fully understand it beyond honesty and loyalty. 

    It's rough. If he encounters Inan, Inan will no doubt immediately recognize the beastman and there will be a need for answers. While the Bancho Leomon does not agree with Tyrael's methods, he does understand the concern for caution when dealing with world-changing threats. "Just what kind of stories does he tell you that you find your friendship lost? They must be terrible lies to concern a once-friend so." The stalk of grass moves lightly as it sticks from the lion's closed mouth. He's thinking. Hard. He's not a very good liar, so the best tactic is to pick words carefully.

    As Rez holds the door, the blacksmith starts back out to the cart, which only has a few ingots left on it. The lionman could probably carry them all himself. "Well, there are a number of...different versions. Sometimes, he sought the Horadrim's help. Others, they came to him. But what I know is that she hadn't been well for a while. Several months. He sent her to an institution, but one day there was a fire near her quarters. The Horadrim took care of it, but not before several of the patients perished including her. Still, he keeps insisting that he was lied to and the Horadrim had in fact kidnapped her and took her away to parts unknown."

    He sighs and shakes his head again. "Perhaps he feels guilty, that it's his fault he sent her away and that it got her killed...and perhaps he is looking for someone else to blame at the same time. I do not know. I noticed you peering after him earlier, do you know him?"

    "You have a good eye," remarks the Leomon while stepping forth to claim the remaining ingots for one more haul. It's a little extra time bought, perhaps, if not at least making na effort to justify any extra gold offered. Hugging the remaining bars to his front sandwiched between his arms, he begins one more trip back to the shed, accompanied or not. "I will admit, the tale you tell of what happened is terrible. It is sad to hear that people have fallen to such tragedy. Lies or not, he is either your friend or he isn't whether you believe him or not." 

    The lion grunts, but not due to strain. "I should have words with him. If you are still his friend, perhaps you should be there. Before that, though, I would like you to tell me what you know about these Horadrim you keep mentioning."

    The blacksmith sighs again. "I suppose you are right. I do care for him still, but it is more and more difficult to be around him these days. It's all he talks about, and regardless of how much I have tried to convince him to move on and accept Melina's death, he will not listen to me!" There is a distraught tone in his voice, even as he heads back to the shed one last time and holds the door open for Rez to enter and deposit the last batch.

    "The Horadrim are...an elite task force, if you will. What these mages have accomplished with their magic...it has never been seen before. But they have rescued many from dangers of all kinds. It was once rare to leave any city without fear of being raided by bandits, but no longer. It is the dream of almost every magic wielder to join the ranks and learn their secrets. They claim to be guided by some sort of divine entity." A shrug. "A belief I do not share, but if it drives them to do good then I will not be one to complain."

    Once the chore of putting away the ingots is finished, he invites Rez into the shop. "Anyway, if you wish to speak to Inan, he is inside. I will fetch your payment."

    "Hmm. Thank you for sharing with me." Regarding the Horadrim, it would seem most thoughts seem to be the same. It's probably not that uncommon of a question coming from 'outsiders' seeking to understand local institution, faction, and custom. Still, Rez certainly senses a pattern from the lips of the common man. He's no closer to digging deeper into this investigation than he was weeks ago, but that doesn't seem to deter the beast one bit. Tyrael himself has tasted firsthand how stubborn the creature can be. 

    The lion's form fills the frame of the entryway into the shop while visor-shaded eyes scan for the man from before. The Archangemon's words still echo in Rez's thoughts. That stalk of grass bobs a bit more amidst the cross-armed pose that entirely obstructs the door. It would seem that the cat person is intent on attracting attention before closing any distance. Perhaps this is to test Inan's familiarity of him and to gauge any emotion that is displayed along with it. After all, Rez couldn't be the first and only person to get hired along for such a task.

    The blacksmith heads into another room, probably his office or something, to fetch the payment. In the meantime, Rez's attempts to draw Inan's attention are quite successful. After all, he is pretty easy to pick out among all the humans of this world.

    Inan had been squatting in front of the furnace, muttering to himself, but when he sees Rez he jumps to his feet and rushes over to the lion man. Immediately, Rez will notice that he looks like he hasn't slept in days. When they'd last met, he'd at least looked presentable. Now, not so much any more. "Rez! I have been searching for you...please tell me you have found my daughter? Or, at least, a lead? M-my precious Melina..."

    The tall lion takes to a knee along with a clatter of metal from the chain on his coat and the band about the end of his tail. An arm reaches out so that a heavy hand can gently be placed upon the man's shoulder. There is concern buried in Rez's eyes and colored with a pensiveness -- a sort of melancholy kindness -- as that gaze sweeps over the man before him. "Breathe, Inan." It would seem that those brilliant blue lion's eyes seek to make contact, to peer directly from one to another, to reveal the genuine nature at hand. 

    "Gomen'nasai. I apologize if my absence has troubled you. It was never my intention. What I have to say will have to wait until your friend is here, however." That could portend ill news, this is true, but the lionguy doesn't take his gaze away despite this. "Have you been friends with the craftsman here for a long time?" It's not exactly changing the subject. There's some measure of logic to his asking.

    Inan welcomes the hand on his shoulder, and the look of genuine concern from Rez. But he tenses up when the lion man says that the news will have to wait, and his eyes fill with dread. "Wh--what is that supposed to mean?" he asks desperately, his voice trembling.

    But he does answer the question. "I have known Belthazar for many years, yes....why do you ask?" Speaking of which, the broader man returns at that moment, handing Rez the payment in gold and silver coins. Plus the extra 50 gold for helping with unloading the ingots, of course.

    It isn't until Belthazar has his presence join that Rez dares to recap, but he speaks slowly. Carefully. Cautiously. And he does this in a way that is made to be obvious. 

    "You hired me to investigate the fate of your daughter. You handed me items to help me in this search for information. I used them." Tyrael would have Rez lie for the benefit of the sake of the world. Knowing the explanation of why, there is understanding, but the lion will not lie. Not for Tyrael. Not for anybody. There must be another path to take between those two options. "They did not lead me to your daughter." What was there wasn't his daughter any longer. "They lead me to more questions." A glance is given upward toward the smith, perhaps to make sure he's paying attention, with some unspoken insistence that the handing of payment must wait. 

    "The place I found does not hold the answers you seek. I have been spending my time trying to find those that may know more about the Horadrim and their leader. What I can say is that they will not part with answers willingly. From what little I know- and I need you to listen carefully, Inan. You and your friend. Those people are not the enemies you believe them to be." 

    Slowly, the Bancho Leomon rises. "I don't know where your daughter is, but if there's a way to find her, to find if she is truly alive or dead, I will. But, you're going to have to give me time and lay your burdens on my shoulders. It's what you've hired me to do and it dishonors you to mistreat your body in such a way." There's a glance between the two. "If you want me to continue the search, Inan, you have to promise me to treat your friend as the brother he is and to care for yourself as your daughter would like you to. Only by this can I truly be commited to this investigation." 

    That's a lot all at once, but it couldn't really be any other way.

    The two men stare at the lion-like creature as he delivers somewhat of a monologue. Oddly, Inan almost looks relieved. Perhaps, he is relieved that Rez didn't find her dead, but now he is aching for more information. "What--what did you find, then?" he questions. "At the end of that passage I showed you? Did...did you speak to them?"

    Belthazar, for his part, also looks a bit relieved, but not for the same reason. "See Inan, what did I tell you? The Horadrim are not an enemy. They have done nothing but good in this world. Even if they did take Mellie, they must have had good reason." He looks back to Rez. "If you wish to know more about the Horadrim, there is a recruitment post near the city hall. It is where those aiming to join go seeking information, and where contracts are handed out to mercenaries and others looking for...dangerous jobs."

    The Leomon reaches into his coat, now fully standing, to pull something out. Held within a closed fist, the catlike being regards the hidden contents for a moment in deep thought, but eventually speaks up. "I found questions and conflict. It is best if you do not send anybody else in those footsteps. Getting lost is easy and it would do you no good to send anybody in there to starve." Starvation, to one like Rez, is actually pretty terrifying. 

    Rather than offering the handheld item to Inan, however, it is held out to Belthazar instead. A trade then, perhaps, as he also holds out an open palm for anything to be handed over to him in turn. It's a crystal with an image within it. He has had time to commit the image to memory and it is best served in another way now. To Belthazar: "Loss breeds loneliness. Loneliness breeds despair. While there are few answers to be had, trust your friend. He needs you." To Inan: "Do you promise to let me bear your burden so that you can focus on yourself and those that care about you? You must be brave in this, Inan, as I must be brave to face the uncertainty you have hired me to look into. Still, you must promise. Not just to me, but to your friend here. If you do, it seems my next stop will be to look into their personal recruitment. I seek a challenge anyway."

    Inan doesn't seem satisfied with that answer. "B-but...what do you mean? What questions, conflict with whom?"

    Belthazar takes the crystal, and hands Rez the bag containing his payment. "Inan, please listen to him. If Melina is gone...you must accept it and press on with your life. It's what she would have wanted."

    The blacksmith pats Rez on the shoulder, leaning in slightly. "Thank you for caring about more than a job and its payout." Then he returns to his workshop.

    Belthazar gets a nod, but then attention falls solely upon Inan one more time. "Not that kind of conflict. Mmm. If it were a fight, do you really think somebody could stand up to me and not tell me what I want to know?" The lion lifts an arm and flexes in emphasis. It's a bit vain, but the beast is rather proud of his physical prowess, so it's not too absurd to use such a display as a means to subvert the conversational topic. 

    "I don't have the answers you seek. While the place you sent me didn't, either, it has lead me to continue searching. It's what you wanted me to do." A thoughtful frown crosses the Leomon's face as he meets Inan's gaze with the same bittersweet care reflecting in his eyes as from before. "I didn't think you would want me to stop just because I didn't find the answers I'm looking for, for you, yet." Yet.

    Inan watches as Rez flexes those muscles, nodding. "Yes, you are strong, but the Horadrim wield magic like none who came before them.Their secrets are both carefully guarded and highly coveted..."

    Then he seems to finally relent from his prodding. "Fine. I...trust you, Rez. You have been nothing but true." At least as far as he can tell, anyway. "I am grateful for your dedication to my cause. And I will do my best to be brave, as you say..."

    "This is how we fight this mystery together," affirms the leonine brawler. "But I can't do it without your resolve." For being hired, Inan has yet to 'pay' Rez with that agreed-upon meal and, in turn, Rez has yet to ask for it. "It's important to remember her in a way that does her justice if she is gone yet will fill her with pride if she is yet returned to you." 

    And that's it. That's all the 'wise advice' Rez possibly has to offer regarding the situation. It's just not his area of expertise and he's relying on what he's seen and heard through other tales, stories, and broadcasts. Just because the phrases and concepts might be trite in some worlds doesn't keep them from being applicable now. 

    A few fingers dip into the payment pouch to retrieve a hefty pinch of coin (from large fingers). Who hired whom again? "Here. This is a gift and proof of my conviction. Use it to clean up, buy some new clothes, or even get your friend a gift." A pinch of coin won't be enough for that. Oh, but Rez holds out the remaining coin and keeps the pinch for himself. It's enough for food today. He'll do another job for food tomorrow. "He worries about you."

    "I--" Inan is so stunned by the gift that he doesn't quite know how to respond. He takes the pouch, less just a pinch, and stares at Rez. No one has been that kind to him before beyond those closest to him. Once he's past the shock, he thinks about refusing to accept, but realizes it wouldn't be wise to argue with someone that much stronger than him. Or risk angering him.

    "...th-thank you, I will..."

    There comes a nod immediately after. That's good enough. "We both have progress to make, then." Staring, ever so faintly the corners of the beast's mouth curl into a kind smile, but then the wanderer turns away with a flutter of his draped coat to begin walking toward the exit. "It will take time. I will look for you here in the future. There is enough unhappiness in the world already. It is our duty to make things a little bit brighter. That is how we best show our strength." 

    Rez's left hand lifts up enough for a backwards-directed wave of parting just before he's made to duck to step through the doorway to the shop.