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No title.
(2013-08-18 - 2013-08-23)
No description.
Queegmaa Garbage is something that exists in every city of the World of Ruin, at some point or another, whether it be filth that was expended of all its worth, or whether this referred to undesirables who brought down society. Now, it may be that there had been a group known as 'Garbage', who formed their band in Wisconsin many years ago, prior to the cataclysm, but whether or not they still existed in this new land, during the new era, was questionable. What was undebatable was that they had a meteorological preference for moist conditions, and with them, one known as Queegmaa had nothing but the greatest of empathy; in his case, though, not only was he happy when it rained, but he liked when it was Acid-Rain, hence.... one of the few true magical abilities in his repertoire.

Everything else about Que was mostly technological, being that he substituted industry for mysticism, using projectile surujin to entangle opponents rather than using paralysis spells, flame-throwers instead of summoning hellish demons like Ifrit, or even using his 'magic' staff to electrocute his adversaries. There was yet one more exception to this rule- Que had been permanently instilled with a noxiousness that meant even those he merely would touch on a physical basis, could become tainted, to the extent that his aura, for those elementally or magically inclined, would undoubtedly inform passerby that he held such an affiliation for vile substances. One couldn't really 'feel' his personality just by taking a gander at him, but something about his skulking, bent-over movements implied a sleaziness that was inherent to thieves and assassins.

It was considerably subdued, because in public places, the kappa didn't like to telegraph his intent to the everyday viewer, but for investors looking to hire him, their trained eye could presumably discern the discreet slouch in his posture that radiated untrustworthiness. The fact that he was non-human actually /helped/ him in this respect, ironically; because kappa were rare, people might not automatically jump to conclusions even if they -did- sense something seedy about his gait, for in their ignorance, they could've very well been falsely diagnosing Que with insidiousness without knowing if it was intrinsic to his race..... but, no.... it was not. When also adding to the equation that kappa's cultural norms were moderately unknown even in the Vectorite community, it went without saying that in Mullonde's streets, the probability of being properly pegged would've been low.

Then, finally, atop of all that.... on the subject of rain being an aspect of the omniscient narration, the conditions of outdoor activity was weak, since there was a high drizzle, even if it wasn't quite an all-out downpour; not yet, at least! This meant all the sane people were either running between their destinations while trying to stay as dry as possible, or using umbrellas to shield themselves from the cascade..... the abnormal types who claimed to love being caught in the rain, were out in full force, yet, Queegmaa would not be caught dead singing in it!
Faruja Senra Kappa are a rare sight in Mullonde, moreso one with such a strange mixture of technology and flesh. Whispers of 'demon' and 'heretic' might hit Quegmaa's ears as people pass. So too has this strange person met the ears of another. Bishopess Emerald of the Holy Church, umbrella in hand, is all smiles and warmth as she approaches the odd creature.

"Lord's blessings be upon you, my Child. And what an odd Child at that..." Murmurs the woman, giving a bow and a crossing of her chest. The two Templar with her merely glare at the being, hands rarely leaving the hilts of their blades.

"But all whom come in peace, and with a desire to know the love of Holy Faram and the wisdom of the Divine Prophet Ajora Glabados are welcome within its walls!" Bids the bishop, settling that smile and keen gaze upon the kappa.
Queegmaa Queegmaa observes apprehensively as the sage walks towards him with an air of confidence- this meant he'd either attracted a potential client, or he'd attracted the attention of an assassin who'd been dispatched to do some dispatching of their own; namely, offing the kappa. He stops, and squints a little bit, trying to read her face as best as possible, which isn't an impossible task for the tortoise-shelled creature, considering that his 'master' had sent him to develop certain aspects of emotional recognition in Zozo, who were among the greatest of deceivers the World of Balance had ever known! The reptilian scoundrel spied the two templar, who appeared to be elites, which meant that his fighting skills were little match for the combined might of the both of them, let alone when a magician(?) of some kind was thrown into the mix.

That didn't mean he couldn't try to pass off self-assurance when there was very little, but he also took a brief surveillance of his surroundings, to see if he could use anything to his advantage. He only took one quick glance as he spun his head side to side, as if pretending he wasn't sure who Emerald was addressing, which was actually designed to evaluate his environment a little better, "Who... me?" He scratched his head, and remarked, "Dunno why yer callin' me a child, when I was a prominent leader of my..... well, let's just say that kappa can exist for stretches that last as long as large bodies of water themselves persist." He smirks- this was not false, of course, for some kappa were able to live for countless eons, but that didn't mean he was actually much wiser for all the time he'd been around, even if it might have been conceivably in the territory of several centuries or beyond. He taps the flank of his staff against the wet road a few moments, which was yet another trick that was actually doing something quite useful for him, even if it resembled the actions of one expunging nervous energy from impatience.

From there, he began to pivot on his heels a smidgen, nodding his head towards a cobblestone wall surrounding a canal, remarking, "Well.... Ya say that I'm welcome in these walls, so how about on 'em, too? If this chitchat's gonna be awhile, I might as well rest my buns, cuz time is money, and I dun feel like payin' out more bucks ta buy fuel for my engines." First lie he's told Emerald, so far; Que's machinery ran on the undying energy of magicite, but he speaks with such fluidity that unless the bishopess is a certified grand-master of detecting untruths, it's dubious she'll think twice about his claim.
Faruja Senra Emerald's laugh is tittering, almost girlish, her general form small, mousey, and having that overall look of being young despite patches of grey sneaking into her hair. Her eyes, however, look far older.

"Why, of /course/ you are my Child! We are ALL Children of God! And as both Priestess, and Bishop of the Church, you are my Child to guide and lead towards true faith and prosperity!"

A small nod, and Emerald and her entorage make off towards the canal. "Of course. Ahh, but I forget my manners. Bishop Emerald. Well met. What brings you to Holy Mullonde, oh metal-bearing Child?"
Queegmaa He doesn't answer Emerald right away once she proposes that Que is her child, and also a child of Faram, because what he's about to say is something that he knows could easily provoke a fight if the person had an uncontrollable temper- those more disciplined and with an ability to take amusement at their occasional failings might be more inclined to take his criticisms in stride, or fake it, if possible, "I'm your child, but I'm God's child..... That's a kinda roundabout way of sayin' that yer some kinda deity, sounds like."

His brows furrow, and then he props his chin on his hands nonchalantly, looking rather comfortable on the 'fence' that blocks people from accidentally falling into the moat and drowning, or getting swept out into a larger body of water, somewhere, after all, who would deliberately want to plummet into rushing waters and then be carried away? /Obviously/ Que is taking solace in the fact that it would require some effort to slip into the channel, even though whilst already seated atop the thing in a borderline-precarious manner, one would wonder how safe he was! "What led me here? Just the very thing ya spoke of two seconds ago.... Came ta get a little of that prosperity stuff you were talkin' about...", the kappa flexes one of his mechanical arms, as he pauses following the near-completion of his former statement, "Right now I'm bearin' metal on my shoulders... hopin' ta weigh m'self down with a bit 'o it in my pockets."

He winks at her, flashing a toothy grin, "I may not sound too alfruisdic in my motives, at least I've been answerin' ya honestly, eh?" Although he includes a malapropism in his dialect, assuming Emerald can deduce that he meant to say 'altruistic', he did live up to the final assertion; she didn't ask him what his engines ran on, so he wasn't 'answering' her when he told that other lie. Queegmaa isn't a hardcore sadist, he's just selfish enough to misbehave when it serves him, but not extraneously!
Faruja Senra Both Templar step forward, hands already starting to draw their blades at such blasphemy. The Bishopess raises her hand, and shakes her head. Glowering all the more, they both keep themselves between Emerald and Queegmaa.

"Forgive my...enthusiastic...companions. Such words are not often welcomed here. Just a bit of advice." A pause, and she continues.

"But no, I am naught but a woman, and child of the Lord. It's merely a term, little one."

Finally, she smiles. "We of the Church are generous to those whom serve causes most holy! Come, come my little Child! Shall we away to some place more...comfortable, and see to matters of earthly coin and holy deed?"
Queegmaa The old good cop, bad cop routine wasn't about to lure Que in so rapidly, although Emerald was starting to endear herself to him by staying the hands of the guards, he wasn't fully convinced that she wasn't housing some malice for himself, personally; if she wanted to harangue others or not wasn't his business, so he was more worried over what her behavior portended for him alone. Rubbing his forehead as he closes his eyes, appearing to be tensed up, when in reality he was just providing them all with ample opportunity to strike at him while he couldn't 'allegedly' see their movements, he then massages his temple with his thumb, "Sounded like you were the one who said it, not me. Maybe you should take yer own advice."

Which was actually a very valid point- if Emerald had been in the company of some bigwig even higher up than herself, and heard those words phrased in that particular order, it /could've/ been construed as blasphemy on her part, depending on how the brass had 'elaborated' upon the ordeal.... not that Emerald was low on the totem pole, but absolutely -anything- within the ranks of the cloth could backfire if there was even the most faint shadow of a doubt as to what the meaning truly entailed, thus condemning the subordinate to penalization, merely because of the twisting of the interpretation! Despite Que's country-bumpkin speech, and his transparent slips of the tongue, it may be that Queegmaa is more greasy than he looks in his understanding of nuances, in defiance of the fact that even then.... his exterior is on the rather mucky end of the scale.

But trust takes time to build, especially with the sort that's been lied to their whole life, so if Bishopess Emerald wants to get her money's worth, she'll have to show she's a real player, and can afford to invest- then again, having him put on this little slippery show of hopscotch between his words and their meanings, while appraising her own, is undoubtedly mutually beneficial; she knows she's not getting a goldbricker, and he knows he can charge a higher rate, if she ends up dumping any sort of job into his lap. "The eyes of the omniscient see all.... I've got nothin' ta hide, an' I feel like stayin' here for a little bit so I can recharge." Although.... by having admitted openly that he needed to 'recharge', did that mean he didn't /need/ fuel, but time in order to 'automatically' regain his diminished reserves of energy? Will she catch onto this detail and accuse him of misleading her, even if it was over a very minor falsification? Maybe she'll call him on it, and use his mistake as leverage to muscle him into confessing that he'd just tried to beguile a high-end church official, which is a misdemeanor, thus, liable for prosecution, which'd give her the upper hand in haggling on how compliant Queegmaa should be behaving!
Faruja Senra Emerald sees fit to say naught else on the matter, merely giving a light chuckle. "Such a clever little Child." Is her only comment, before she simply turns away.

A motion to follow him, as she starts towards her office. Both guards watch Queg intently. Lawful as she is, she doesn't see much point here in catching him on a petty detail. After all, Bishop Emerald isn't known for being petty. She has a reputation to uphold. "Ahhh...even the smallest of sins are sins. Yet they may be forgiven. Such as your own." A small prod, however, she isn't above.

Off they go, to her office! Her guards are soon dismissed. "Now. What exactly are you capable of?"
Queegmaa Since Emerald hadn't seen fit to declare Que a louse for speaking falsely, even though she could have done so, aside from the fact that they didn't attack him while his optics were covered, he finally chooses to relent a little bit, and pursue the matter further, by pursuing the bishopess as she went to her office. He doesn't thank her for her kind words, but he does give a smile, signifying his joy at being complimented, even if he wasn't totally sure she was being sincere; it was enough to survive on, regardless. When the guards are dispensed with, Que folds his arms over his chest, "Sins may be forgiven.... but dun' think yer careless mistakes are gonna be able ta be chalked up to idiocy."

As if to clarify, he points at her, "You didn't catch my lie. No offense, but I'm workin' for somebody smarter than either of us, and if you wanna get me to temporarily help ya, you gotta up the ante a lil' bit on your attentifness." He chortles a little; this may come as a shock to Emerald, since for all she knows, she /did/ identify what Que's fib effectively, even if she decided to respond with a pinch of finesse to counter the yarn in question. "An' if ya thinkin' that my lie had anything to do with recharging, then yer dead wrong...." One side of his lips turns upwards, smugly; evidently, he's still trying to jack up his value, by demonstrating what he's capable of.

From the looks of him, Que seems passingly competent at physical warfare as well as pseudo-magical combat, but his strong-suit is something a little bit different than that, because the reality was that if the kappa decided on going toe-to-toe with extremely proficient sword-slingers who were known threats to Mullonde, such as Agrias the Ivalician-renowned paladin, or even Artemis Eurus, whose swordsmanship had been growing considerably in fame, Queegmaa would have piteous odds of finishing up in first place. But then..... Rakassa was training Queegmaa, perhaps futilely, to become a Shadow Lord in his own right, someday, so even if he himself wasn't the best, he was certainly learning from it!
Faruja Senra The mousey woman's smile never falters, though she manages to look down her nose at the strange kappa. "You presume that I /care/ about your lie. No. We are not here to play word games. We are here to discuss potential employment towards holy deeds. Naught more, naught less. I see that you /are/ capable of deception at the least. Good enough, but what services would you offer the Holy Church? We pay well. You are likely in need of coin, or so you implied. A water-borne creature if I am any judge...decent enough physical condition, magically Are you, or are you not interested in employment? A Bishopess' time is not oft wasted in Mullonde."

Her tone becomes warmer, however. "But let us start with names. I am Bishop Emerald. You are...?"
Queegmaa Que pushed his index finger up against his forehead as though repositioning glasses he wasn't wearing, dead-center between the eyes, as if to indicate that he was thinking over what she said, before he remarked, "Got me wrong again. I don't presume ya care much 'bout the lie itself, but the fact that I told one and you didn't figure out that I purposely stuck in the lil' bit about dat rechargin' shindig ta give ya some rope ta hang me with." He flashes another toothy smile, full of razor-sharp fangs; the only thing that set this fellow apart from those in Zozo had to be that he had the teeth and the colorings of a shark, besides its persona.

"You wouldn't be hirin' just any two-bit hack offa the streets, cuz there's a lotta has-beens and nevah-was's out thar trying to scam suckas who can't see when they're being sold fool's gold." Queegmaa shook his head, "Yer wantin' real gold, and I had to show you the goods, so that the right kinda buyer finds the right typa seller." He taps his clawed fingers on the chair, lightly, though, so as not to scratch up the furniture's finish, "...Also, to me, my life's as valuable as yers is ta you, so don't go thinkin' that I'm gonna be your footstool and treat ya like I think my time's worthless and yers ain't. Now.... ta git ta biz; I'm Queegmaa Piir."

The kappa pauses, so Emerald can make a mental note of that, before proceeding, "I can use all kindsa naudigal jazz. As far as technology that's alien, if I get a glance at the blueprints to somethin', I can memorize 'em just with a few mins.... and transport the dope back to the peeps that need it provided I dun get nabbed 'n brainwashed before my return. Can probably duplicate it when I get back, or build stuff that can combat it." Steepling his fingers, Que continued, "Now.... when it comes ta non-water junk, I can keep track 'o what I look like, but when I transport it back to base, that don't mean it'll be one hundred percent arrucate or that I can even build somethin' that looks similar." At this point, he stops, and allows Emerald to say whatever she has to say, in the event that she's lost interest; that being the case, no further discussion need apply!
Faruja Senra Emerald lets the chronie have his words, brushing them aside without response. "Well then, a professional. Good. I was worried you were nothing more than a two-bit mouthy charlatan. Mmm. Suppose you may yet be such...but we shall see."

She waves a hand dismissively. "No, I need agents alive, not dead. Your skills seem valuable enough. It /is/ true our technological abilities are lacking. However, so far, you have many claims, and nothing to back them up aside from your...form."

Pausing, she nods. "Therefore, we shall test them. A mission at half cost. Should you succeed, we will then pay you in full, and a contract shall be drawn up for your employment. Agreed?"
Queegmaa Given how metal-based he was, Que also would have been aptly named a 'chromie', in the mind of Emerald, when labeling him, but either way, the serpentine stooge listens to the bishop's promising words, enjoying the flattery she gives, even if she's probably trying not to gag as she renders it. Comes a doubt, though, and then a proposal for Queegmaa to be tested. At first, he hears the words /half price/ and almost cringes, but then understands that the rest will be issuedupon completion of the task- so the mission wasn't at half cost, really..... the mission would receive a down-payment at fifty percent, rate-wise, which was reasonable.

If he tried to run off with the munny, they'd probably try to hunt him down, and he didn't need himself earning the ire of Glabados, especially that would reflect poorly on his master, Admiral Rakassa- Que didn't have fears of too many folks, but she knew that his greatest weakness was the reminder that he hid a secret pain which she could exploit, and practically send him into convulsions with a little added magically-induced psychosis. The kappa knew that from his world, there was plenty of voodoo that could inflict induce berserker rages, sorrow, confusion, mental paralysis, and even outright mind-control stuff..... but he only once saw that in the embodiment of a sketchy(buzzkill) artist who'd mastered the skills of mirroring entities using magic paint, and some device called a 'Fake Mustache'.

Queegmaa never quite understood why humans referred to beards, sideburns, and mustaches as what they were, instead of just calling them 'hair', which was also still attached to their heads. Kappa, being incapable of growing 'facial hair' probably didn't have an appreciation for the distinctions on where or why hair grew in their respective locations, and it was arguable that they didn't care; but leave it to humans to be fastidious about their approach to identification.... and he's somewhat thankful for their scientific manner, since it enabled him to use the headpiece, and the cephalic limbs, which in the case of creatures with more pronounced tails, were referred to as the caudal appendages. But let it never be said that the imp named Queegmaa has a vestigial tail!


Pretty strange that he'd been so wordy, and now he was suddenly so concise- maybe now that the money was doing the talking, he didn't want to mince verbiage excessively.... One thing he said earlier was true, even for him; time was money.
Faruja Senra Perhaps thankfully, Emerald isn't a fan of mustaches, and certainly won't be donning one. She prefers far more conventional magics anyway!

Smile! The woman's face lights up, never losing that condescending manner of a higher up with far too much arrogance and pride. Really, it's something that Rakassa and she share quite a bit.

"Excellent. I think I know the /perfect/ thing for you to go after. We shall draw up a few plans, and have them send to you via courier, along with a full briefing. For now, consider yourself a guest of the Holy Church. You shall be given appropriate accomodations. Merely observe our laws, and you are welcome here."
Queegmaa Queegmaa sneers proudly, and raises his hand slowly, fist balled up, mayhap putting Emerald on guard for a minute, wondering if he might open it up to unleash something strange, or adverse, like what Iron-Man is capable of, in the comics of Manhattan's world, but no energy blast comes out.... no wires with hooks shoot out to bite into her like miniature harpoons.... no nothing.

His hand stays balled, palm parallel to the floor, then twists it counter-clockwise forty five degrees, giving a 'thumbs up' gesture, like something an emperor would do when making a decree, to signify his approval of all that she'd said. Although the kappa spoke not a single word, his gesture done in slow-motion might convey a sense of dramaticization that indicates Queegmaa thinks that he's something special-- and maybe he is, but as Emerald said..... that was yet to be beheld!

This scene contained 15 poses. The players who were present were: Faruja Senra, Queegmaa