Private Tales A Midnight Mission

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
The Suriel's head cocked unnervingly to one side then the other as it blinked and licked its beaked mouth. It was as if it were trying to translate the mans words, or maybe it just took a while for the small mind to turn the cogs, but finally the creature spoke.

"Not like youuu. Not like hiiiim," he nodded to Cillian and then took another chunk of dead bird and hungrily smashed the flesh to pieces. "Sheeee trapped meee, made deeeal," he slurped the final bit of flesh up and looked disappointingly at his now empty hands.

Cillian leant against the wall.

"Ye can usually catch a Suriel by layin' out a dead chicken," he snorted when the bird like fae clacked at him. "Teh will do anythin' for food," he shrugged.
 
Vulpesen's brow rose as each answer only brought new questions. "How not like us? Obviously a female, but is she a fae at all? Something else? If we were to see her, how would we know?" The idea of their quarry being something besides fae was far from likely in his mind, but that didn't mean it was impossible. And until the idea was completely ruled out, he would remember to keep it in mind. Failure to follow such dieas had already cost him dearly in his previous life. He refused to let those same costs happen again.

"Help us find 'the mother' and right the wrongs and I'll see to it that you get another bird." Civility seemed so far to be the best course of action. Still, there was a hardness in the Zorren's gaze that spoke words beyond what came from his lips. If an easy deal couldn't be struck, then he would have no issue removing chicken or anything else from the suriel's diet. No doubt poultry would be hard to consume with bashed beak. "People are dying, and you're my best lead to find out why and who."

Cillian
 
The Suriel seemed to consider it. Really consider it. Cillian even begun to relax but then the creature bolted for the door. It would appear to a mortals eyes as though the leprechaun simply hopped from one spot to the next, but the Sighted could see just how fast he had moved to block the creatures escape. The Suriel screeched as it slammed into his chest and was gripped by the upper arms to pin it in place.

"NO!" it shrieked and thrashed wildly. "She'll killll me," it jibbered and clacked its monstrous beak. Cillian raised a brow. Suriel were pretty harmless beings aside from the knowledge they knew. If she had threatened to kill him...

"We can offer protection," he soothed. "Ye just 'ave to make a wish, an' I can take ye anywhere," the creature seemed to mull it over, glancing between the two before it came to a decision.

"Sheeee is faee," it hissed then licked its mouth. "But olllld. Older than youuu or I.... olllld... and she wants her child. The Child. The first and only in over 50,000 years."
 
Vulpesen had just removed a dagger with one hand and drawn a length of rope with the other when he realized his makeshift rope trick would be unnecessary. Suddenly, he decided that he preferred big brawny mountain man leprechauns. They were much more useful that cheery pot of gold ankle biters. "My boss rather excels in protection, particularly when said protection leads to information," he added to Cillian's point, placing his tools back to his belt and bag.

Of course, even Vulpesen was given a moment of pause as he heard the age of what he was dealing with. A low whistle left his lips as he plucked the bond to his patron. [Umm Va-]

[You got me, even I wasn't a pup that long ago. Your race wasn't even a twinkle of a thought.]

"You'd think that fifty-thousand years and she'd take some measures to track the child. In any case, if anyone has a chance of getting you out from the inevitable doom that someone that pissy and that old is almost certainly going to throw you're way, it's us."
 
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