Guns and Ammunition

[Lilthis]

Talk of poisoning someone generated a rush of momentum in the tall elf’s heart. She wasn’t intending to kill any time soon, although if the porcelain haired woman had any inclination towards murder she reasoned that poison would likely be her weapon of choice. File that idea away for later. The more timid of the pair was relieved once the stout halfling clarified what Lilly had attempted to communicate to the nekojin alchemist, bringing an end to discussions of boiling skin.

However, the conversation proved to be an excellent time to survey the alchemy shop’s various wares. Vials, ingredients wrapped in paper, and lots of signage that the educated dark elf could not read. Bored of these sights, her gaze sidestepped and abruptly stumbled into the cat woman’s sashaying tail. It was perfect, just like a real cat! Before she knew it her pale blue pupils sprinted towards sunny orange ears.

Basking in the sheer overload of cute, the tinkerer’s cat-like curiosity sprang forward. Sure, Yvonne would be embarrassed, and she may get them kicked out judging by this shop owner’s temper, but the intrusive drow had to know if the fur on Ayaka’s ears felt as soft as it looked. Nervously she extended fluttering fingers towards the potion mixer only to have them swatted away mid-flight. So close, she reluctantly thought.

Bracing herself for an outburst the meddling elf cowered into herself, only to be saved by a door flung ajar. Dashing from the light of day the trio beheld a one-armed drow that appeared to be much older than Lilly. He was likely alarmed to see three sets of eyes staring back at him. This meager alchemy store was beginning to get rather cramped.

Akashima is a circus of a place. Angry catpeople operating businesses and one armed men stomping into them.

Between the shelves of vegetation and a variety of liquids the pure blooded female could vaguely make out this new arrival. He was a bit scraggly, seemed relaxed, and judging by his dress was likely a low-born member of Alerarian society. That was good. The lower caste was extremely unlikely to recognize Lillian as being a member of House Shadefell. So long as dark elves of high birth were not present the young inventor would be able to stay calm.

Ayaka hurled vitriol at the amputee before twirling back around. The shock on Lilly’s face was blaring as the foul mouthed kitten offered to let the girls test drive a new gender. She had no qualms with others doing such a thing but the midnight skinned elf was opposed to staining her skin color, she certainly had no interest in altering her genitalia.

“No! I don’t want to... grow a thing... down there... no thank you,” she timidly proclaimed.

This catlady was unlike anyone she had ever met. Her gruff demeanor was terrifying to the shy elf but as soon as the inventor was ready to run away she’d catch a peek at a fluffy tail or furry ears and her heart would melt. No matter what happened here today, Ayaka would have her ears scratched.

Regaining courage the drow stated, “Do you um, know of a way that wouldn’t involve changing my hair. Or skin. Or uhh... sexual organs.”

[Yvonne]

A masculine presence hurried through the door behind them, a soft creak alerting Yvonne to his entry. She looked over her shoulder at him and quietly gasped - another dark elf? What an odd coincidence, so many Alerians bumping into each other, though to be fair this was a potion shop. This would be the place to look, if one was searching for dark elves in Akashima. The alchemy, the science; it called to them and they had come.

The words from his mouth - while more than polite - struck Yvonne as unusual, not quite right. The half-and-halfling liked to think the art of communication her forte. Most customers that arrive after others currently being served don’t gratuitously beg forgiveness. They simply wait in line or patiently browse through the wares on offer. She raised an arching eyebrow, gave the one-armed Alerian a look that silently asked what ye be up to? She didn’t say too much to him though - her expression conveyed everything.

“That be quite alright. We won’t be long,” the littlest one said, turning around again to the half-breed nekojin, the crossbow strapped to her back blocking much of the view of her.

Yvonne seriously considered the potion-brewer’s offers of poison. She wasn’t above taking an angle of skulduggery or their deadly use. One needed to do what needed to be done. Poison was an incredibly effective tool in certain situations, particularly those which didn’t involve the poisoner hanging around. Apply to the target, or better - the target’s food or drink and flee immediately to avoid any consequences.

Unfortunately the duo would need more time than poison allowed. People under poison’s effects didn’t often go quietly into that sweet and sombre abyss. They choked, they gagged, spilled their bodily fluids all over the place and made a hell of a scene. In these cases, either a trail of coughed up blood or great swathes of skin peels would litter the area, and neither of those would be subtle. She imagined they would need to blend in among many, stay long enough to extract Lilly’s meteorite and escape again. Yvonne would look to alternatives before murdering old elves and other dwarves over a rock. It just wasn’t worth their lives.

The cat lady grinned for the first time since they’d come in and the sudden change in expression made the diminutive drow feel uneasy. Her instincts had been dead-on - the alchemist’s suggestion of a sex change potion had amused her, broken her ire momentarily. Yvonne giggled nervously, feeling an uncommon bout of uncertainty and indecision. It wasn’t a half bad idea, was it? When one got right down to thinking about it, it was a better idea than face paint and wigs.

“I’d like ta be taller. Blonde would be a lovely change. A high elf woman perchance? We women have our ways of… friendly persuasion that men can’t hope ta match,” Yvonne requested, explaining her line of thinking. The thought crossed her mind afterward, that she’d asked to look like her complete polar opposite. Her skin would change from black to white, her hair from black to blonde, her bone structure, height and curves and slenderness…

“Mayhap I ask too much of ye dear. I hadn’t thought me request through. Could ye brew a potion capable of such dramatic change?” Yvonne asked. Her curiosity had begun to rise the more she thought it over. Surely the alchemist wouldn’t bring up the subject of potion transfiguration just to see their reactions and get a rise out of them? Well, this one would of course. Yvonne herself might have too, in her position. Reactions were very entertaining after all.

[House of Cards]

This is going... surprisingly well.

When the three women had looked up at Phyr initially, he'd felt certain he was caught. It seemed unlikely that none of the three of them had been warned of him by the spies. But they ignored him almost entirely and went back about their business. The catgirl and the dwarfgirl got to chatting about womanly things. I want to change my this, I want to grow my that, I want to shrink my those. Phyr had heard it all from his wife and her friends back on Alerar, before his arrest. Before the secret military trial and sentencing. Before the trip to hell and back that cost him an arm.

The dark elf wandered stealthily to the back of the shop, wondering if he was two times as old as all the young ladies combined, or three times their total age. He had the odds favoring three times. He would have liked to look at them - any of them, particularly the tall elf with the hair like pouring milk. But he had learned over the last few years that was inappropriate now. No young lady wanted his ancient azure eyes roving her bodice and bottom, and that was the simple truth of it. Elena had been different... but Elena was gone.

Phyr examined a rounded jar filled with strangely bladed yellow leaves. He did not think he had ever seen their type before. A part of him wished he had his spectacles so he could examine them closely. The rest of him remained vigilant and alert, keeping the corner of his eye on the front door and windows lest the spies come in. Phyr skulked toward the shadowiest corner, away from all the others and remained there. If his pursuers did come in, he could pull the shadows around himself and hide long enough to... to...

He did not know. He would be trapped. He slipped the flask from his cloak and took a long, semi-covert draft. As he returned the flask to his pocket he looked around, wondering if any of the ladies had seen, and wondering if any of them had spoken with the spies. If they had, he would have to be quick, and earn his silver-tongued reputation in order to save his sorry old hide.