The Amell Legacy: Transgressions

[Bianca]

Gotta give him something believable, or he'll never rest. And believable has to be close enough to the truth he can't find out otherwise in a week. Hmm... "There's a group. A secret society. I don't know who funds them," not for certain anyway, "but whatever their plans for my son are, they're nothing I want him taking part in. At a guess, Glaley might be tied up in it, or Draslina. But some of the spells they've been looking for.. you could disguise one of the Stolen and no-one would be any the wiser."

[Varric]

Varric winces a little, not that she can see it. Rather like the spell making Flirty One look fair? "Alright. Shadowy backers from out-city, probably the Bitch's one way or another. Alright, that should be enough to plan some safeties against. Anything else?"

[Bianca]

"I'll need a sharp knife and a healing potion, unless you want us to be tracked. The bodyguard's more deadly than he looks. I'll take care of the rest, but I can't get past the guard on my own, not pregnant. I'll stash a bag we can pick up on the way out. And... thank you. You didn't have to come for me, but I'm glad you did." She smiles, just a touch, at that.

[Varric]

Varric laughs, very, very softly. "Lot of that sort of talk lately. Someone else might not have had to, but I did. Bodyguard won't be a problem, I have a counter to those. We have a healer on tap, a paladin, so... You pick up a fear of flying?"

[Bianca]

"Nope," she says cheerfully. 

[Varric]

"Good. Wear tights next week," he suggests, a faint hint of teasing in his voice... one that doesn't last. "And Bianca... try to show up this time." There's a faint scuff, likely his way of informing her he's leaving rather than a misstep, then silence. 

Great. That was a brilliant note to leave this on. Good job. 

[Carver Amell]

Carver's put it off as long as he can -- he's made all the preparations, including plenty of time taking care of himself, but finally, things are set for him to leave the oak. Which means it's finally time to hunt down Dau and get his quest, so he can finish out his responsibilities here before he goes back to Nyra. 

He heads for the Oak, Merrill at his side, nerves curdling his stomach. Helene, Varric, and Marian all almost died last time we had a quest. How bad will this one go? Will one of us not come back?

[Jassinth]

"Carver!" The name is shouted out with clear pleasure and accompanied by the merikos drow jogging towards the pair with a broad grin. Closer, he adds, "hey Merr" almost as cheerily.

[Merrill]

Merrill offers a shy wave, smiling honestly, but tightens her hand around Carver's. She likes Jass, he's funny and rather sweet (and pretty) but she still gets shy around anyone but Carver.

[Carver Amell]

"Jass," he says, with a warm smile. "I was just coming to visit Dau -- want to tag along?"

[Jassinth]

"Uh, sure?" he laughs a little as he answers. "Arthur just cued me that I was supposed to come to the Oak so... He shrugs to show that he has no idea about why. "Might I ask the escort of the strong and noble Lord Carver?" he teases, offering his arm. Maybe this time he'll actually notice me flirting with him... even Merrill has noticed. Seems politely curious, maybe even interested herself... which is... a thought.

[Merrill]

And indeed, Merrill simply giggles at the flirtation and leans against her boyfriend to watch.

[Carver Amell]

Carver flushes faintly, but resolves to ignore it. "Of course," he says, gallantly, though he links arms rather than taking Jass'.

[Merrill]

I should probably talk to Carver about... things. Not just Jass either... Merrill allows Carver to guide her along as she mulls warring thoughts over and over again. She doesn't even notice when they reach the Oak and go inside. By this point, the pair have been allowed to realize that the inside of the Oak shifts and changes, that there's no point in trying to find anything- just walk until you reach where you're going. 

[NPCs]

Which in this case, is... an art studio. With a giant mostly nude woman painting a miniature version of that bramble thorn dragon Dau used to stop that fight. Glancing over, the dozen feet of gorgeous green woman with flower sprinkled grass-vine hair and ample curves grins at them all. "Hey! Been meaning to met you lot," she says, setting aside her paint brushes and wiping a hand absently on the smock that is the entirety of her clothing.

The tiny dragon starts to speak, then stills at the giant woman's glare.