The trickster rat Sirana tries to have 'fun' with the Staggs by offering them her 'expertise', but ends up getting much more than she asked for

As she had promised, Sirana was waiting by the giant oak tree surrounded by berry bushes. She had taken the effort to be early; her 'lab', such as it was, was ready, as were all the ingredients, the leaves and juices ready to be ground up and mixed by mortar and pestle, by pot and kettle. She wasn't alone, either; a fearful little mouse was shaking his knees off right next to the tree, apparently not entirely comfortable with being here. Silently they both wait for the expected arrival.

Drasta stalks through the forest, toward the designated meeting spot. She's fur-clad as always, and appears to be in a relatively cheerful mood. She looks back, to see if her partner in crime is catching up, then looks to Sirana. "I see you showed up after all," she remarks.

Owen is, in fact, not far behind Drasta; his time with the Staggs has forced him to become ever-more adept at keeping up, the better to keep those who still viewed him as a soft colonist at bay. He's slimmer now than he's probably ever been in his life, though he still sports his glasses. His sword is still at his waist; it never leaves his side, in fact. "I think I'm even more surprised than you are, Drasta," he comments in his usual cold monotone as he spies Sirana. "But I see she's brought a snack in case you wind up displeased with her efforts. Hoping to buy your life by the sale of another's then?" Owen taunts.

Sirana is glad to see Drasta, eager to finally get start something, but upon detecting Owen she briefly scowls. So /that's/ where he ended up! But unlike before, she wasn't in a particularly sensitive situation. No...maybe she can get back at him for humiliating her that time, but Drasta's request goes first. "Don't be stupid, fatso. My little helpmates are no good to me dead." Other than that, Sirana basically ignores Owen's presence and begins her spiel, spread her arms wide in a ludicrous manner. "Welcome to the show, Drasta! Today you'll see exactly what I have to offer you, and its very juicy, mmm mhm!" She grasps some leaves and powder and starts to mix it into the bowl. "All you need are some simple ingredients. A little of this plant, a little of the other...maybe a seed or two." She grounds it all up with the mortar/pestle combination, the soft powder squelching together like dried pudding. "But what you really is...a catalyst." She reaches underneath the 'table' and produces a small husk of liquid which she pours into the bowl very carefully, her tongue sticking out a little to express this. At once a burst of red smoke erupts from the mixture, the contents congealing and settling in a frothy goop. "Ta dah! One poisonous powder ready for havoc! ;)"

Drasta chuckles at Owen's remarks, looking between him and Sirana and wondering if there will be a fight. She turns back to Sirana, looking amused. "Impressive. Strange smells and funny noises." She takes a seat on nearby rock, smiling unnervingly. "Go on, then. Impress me."

"Clearly you've gone blind in addition to insane, Lucia," remarks Owen, a smile that never even approaches his dead eyes curling briefly about his muzzle. He watches her attempt at theatre and clucks his tongue disapprovingly. "If those are the ingredients I think they are, well...I would hardly call that a poison..." Owen's swordpaw subtly loosens the blade in its sheathe, just in case things get...interesting.

Sirana only looks at Owen like she would a dunce. "Come back to me next time you don't score near the bottom of your medical exam, hmm?" She winks at him cruelly and then continues her 'display'. With a waggling finger she beckons her 'assistant' to step forward, his mousy body shaking with fear. "Now, my, erhm, associate here is going to demonstrate just what this stuff does. Now, pay attention..." She takes a handful of the powder and, with a flourish, blows it into the mouse's face. The mouse, at first, shows little. He rubs his eyes...he rubs his eyes a lot. Moments later his breathing starts to get raspy, and moments after that, he gasps for air, scratching all over his face. Soon he topples over ands writhes on the ground, still alive, but badly injured, or so it seems. "And think what a full dosage can do, Drasta! What hundreds of these little things can do...your armies will march on top of and take control of Haven Colony!" She smirks and chuckles darkly.

Drasta chuckles, her laugh warm and deep. The tension between Owen and Lucia was even more entertaining than the actual poisons. "Interesting, little one. And what would a full dosage do?"

The only sign that Owen is at all surprised by Lucia's retort is a slight cocking of one eyebrow. The former mortician watches the mouse's reaction to the 'poison' with some interest. "It remains to be seen how much of this is a scene concocted for your benefit, Drasta, and how much is truth," he counsels as Drasta makes her query. He moves forward to inspect the mouse's condition for himself; it would be quite easy to fake such a reaction, after all. Owen keeps a weather eye on Lucia the entire time, of course.

"You know, Owen," says Sirana, "if you have any doubts I could always have you volunteer." Indeed, Sirana's powder seems to have had a definite effect on the mouse; his skin is highly irritated and his eyes are bloodshot, as if inundated by pepper spray...which it likely was. "My dear huntress, I think the effects you see speak for themselves. While the colonists are busy scratching and gagging your warriors can easily overcome them. Owen doubts, such as they are, arise from his confrontation without someone who is clearly superior to him." Sirana smirks and leans an elbow on the table. "Really, you can check this mouse for yourself, Drasta; I don't mind."

Drasta nods to Owen, acknowledging his point. She rises, and walks over to the mouse, looking down at him. His eyes are indeed bloodshot, rather disgusting actually. "Hmm...yes, yes, I see..."

Owen gives Sirana one of his cold-fish smiles again as she proposes to use him as a test subject. "Superiority?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Correct my memory if I'm wrong here, but when last we met, who was reduced to stunned silence and on the verge of tears? Oh, yes, of course. That was you." He surveys the mouse's condition and is satisfied that it is not an act. He remains unimpressed, however. "And of course, Drasta, the colonists will all just wait around for you and yours to ready this puff of poison and let you get close enough to administer it without lopping any limbs or heads off first...or simply shooting you and yours down with their bows. It is effective...but only if you plan on slowly and painfully whittling the colony down to nothing in a long campaign of ambushes."

Sirana was starting to get supremely irritated by Owen and his retorts. She manages to contain her feelings and merely raise her eyebrow at Owen sourly. "As if one little incident counts over a lifetime of domination by your betters. But I suppose the ponit is made; how /will/ you be able to administer the poison effectively?" She steps around and looks at Drasta directly, as if to challenge her superior height. But she herself had the superior brains. "The colonists make use of certain 'machines' to make their lives easier. I can help make our lives easier, too, if I can construct a device than can spread the poison over a large area. That would definitely make things much worse for those colonists."

"If you had ever been my 'superior', you arrogant and fratricidal little w****, no words of mine could ever have touched you. Nor would you have needed me to point out this glaring flaw in what passes for your 'plan' to weaken the Colony," Owen replies, his eyes never disengaging from Lucia's, but his tone of voice never containing even a hint of actual emotion. "And you have, since running away from everything that NIMH gave us as a race, developed mechanical and engineering aptitude how, pray tell? I see no signs of any Rube Goldberg devices hidden amongst the trees." Owen shakes his head and turns to Drasta. "She has a glib tongue and little else at her disposal. Kill her or leave her be, it matters not to me." So saying, Owen turns and prepares to return to the Stagg camp.

Drasta chuckles a bit, and nods. "You are amusing, small one. And this fairy tale machine, how is it better than my own warriors, my sons and daughters?" She nods, acknowledging Owen's point. "Oh, I'm still debating, friend. Both options have their potential for amusement."

Sirana stares after Owen, in a fashion, as he turns about. Boy, he really did take it all so personally, hm? Well, it matters little to her at the present time; she knows how the minds of ferals worked and she is going to exploit that knowledge as much as she could. "Contrary to what our bulgy comrade believes, I have devised a number of devices and methods to execute the plan I've proposed. It's really amazing what you can build using only stuff you find in the forest, though I can't say, admittedly, that it is of the same quality as what the Colonists make, but that won't matter so much once you have them beneath your heel." She steps confidently towards Drasta. "Your warriors are certainly strong, certainly fierce, dear Huntress, but alone they cannot stand against their Guard. The machine is a mighty thing, but without your warriors it is useless. Together, however, the two are a deadly combination; their strengths combine to make a most devious conundrum for those Colonists...Or you could listen to the pudgy fellow over there. Take your pick."

"And I say she's a liar who's stringing you along by your nose, Drasta," intones Owen in his usual deadpan, turning back when Sirana claims to have fashioned what sound like veritable siege engines already. "Once again I say let her prove this 'mechanical aptitude' she's crowing so loudly about. I never saw hint one of its existence when we had the misfortune of sharing the same classroom," he counters. He ignores the jibes at his weight, as he hasn't been 'pudgy' in several months now thanks to leaving the cushy colony life he'd grown up in.

Drasta shrugs, still looking amused. "Stringing /me/ along? Really? We shall see...in the meantime, I would like to see this ma-sheen's existence proven...can you do that, little one? Because if not..." she cracks her sizable knuckles loudly. "I doubt you will like the alternative I have in mind."

"I did say that I was /going/ to build it, not that I actually have one ready," says Sirana. "But that doesn't mean we can't do something in the meantime. We can still coat your blades with this poison to cause some trouble, and I can teach you how to get around that pesky armor they wear. Tell you want, since you are much more adept at discovering new ways to hunt than I am, Huntress, I will provide you with some of my poison to get you working immediately while I build my machine. There's no hidden costs or deals or anything like that...just my generosity." She smirks and reaches under her 'lab table' to produce a large bottle of the stuff. "I can have this thing ready in a week, what do you say?"

Owen can't help but roll his eyes at Sirana's rather pathetic excuse that she doesn't have anything mechanical ready yet. "Boy does that particular refrain sound familiar," he says, his voice and eyes as dead and devoid of emotion as usual. He turns to Drasta and says, "You might as well take what she's offering and come up with an imaginative way to kill her when she fails to deliver on her machine. I've seen the colony engineers at work, and building something from scratch for a team of them takes longer than that."

Drasta gives a low chuckle, though she's clearly interested in what Sirana is selling. She's quite amused at Owen's reaction as well, and doesn't hold back from smiling at him. It isn't pleasant. "That was more or less my plan, anyway. You do rather think like a Stagg, did you know that?" She looks back to Sirana. "All right then, Missie. You have your deal--you deliver on this ma-sheen, and I let you keep your hide." She smiles benevolently--for a Stagg, that is.

OOC> Drasta says, "Maybe not in one /piece/...."
OOC> Drasta says, "Staggs have a somewhat fluid idea of negotiation"
OOC> Kieran says, "I know Owen would be all for Drasta taking a few pieces of Sirana with her when the deal's concluded."
OOC> Kieran says, "Preferably important ones--lungs, heart, spine, eyes, etc."
OOC> Drasta says, ""Mmm, stew tonight! :D"

Whatever fear or apprehension fills Sirana is lost on the two observers as she maintains her gloating attitude. "Oh, trust me, it will be ready, Huntress." Handing off the bottle, she rouses her hapless assistant and starts to head off. "It's only a matter of time before you have yourself a shiny death machine, Drasta. I'll be seeing you soon..." She turns back and winks slyly, and then dashes off into the woods, her mouse 'servant' trudging along after.

Owen rolls his eyes and snorts disdainfully as Sirana vanishes into the undergrowth. "The colony engineers have access to saws, lathes, forges, and other machines whose purposes and functions I don't even know to construct their devices. She might have a couple sharp rocks at her disposal." He shakes his head and turns to Drasta after she compliments him on his way of thinking. "Well, it's not every day that someone you hate offers to dig their own grave," he explains. And then he smiles. It's cold and mirthless as ever, but there's something else--a wicked glint in his eyes for just a split second--that, for a moment, makes him look as malicious as any Stagg. Then his muzzle returns to its usual dead mask, and his eyes are cold black orbs once more.

OOC> Drasta says, "Oooh *shiver*"
OOC> You say, "O_O"

Drasta nods in response to the unlikeliness of Sirana's success. "We have some that poison their weapons already--but since we usually eat the victims, it doesn't make sense to use it often." She grins at his response--Drasta is rather glad she's taken in this rogue colonist. "Yes, I can see how that has a certain...sweetness to it," she replies. "As it is, she's lucky she ran across /me/. She'll suffer, yes, but it'll end...eventually. Mesmer would have had the thumbscrews in before she finished a sentence." Getting to her feet, she nods to Owen. "Are you ready, then?"

OOC> Lucia is thinking of just retconning this :/
OOC> Drasta asks, "....why?"
OOC> You say, "Because the next time I was planning to have her show up with the actual, completed machine, and I know that's gonna piss you both off iRL."
OOC> Drasta says, "Uh, not really"
OOC> You ask, "really?"
OOC> Drasta says, "Naturally I'd have questions as to how Sirana would accomplish this"
OOC> Kieran asks, "She's Batman, that's how she accomplishes it. Or Batgirl, I guess. Batrat?"
OOC> Drasta says, "LOL"
OOC> You say, "She's been gathering wood pieces and carving them little by little every day. Rope can be made from tree fibers. I'm trying to decide if she makes a catapult or a pump machine; the catapult would require less complex materials."
OOC> You say, "THe only way is can get it all done within a week is if she's been planning to make one for a long time now."
OOC> Drasta nods
OOC> You say, "I'm thinking a catapult is more effective anyway; easier to poison a whole squad with thrown barrels than just random clouds of gas."
OOC> Drasta says, "Ok, that's more feasible than the Da Vinci-esque instrument of death I had pictured"
OOC> Lucia nods

"A distinct pity, then, that she didn't meet up with Mesmer first," Owen replies after Drasta comments on how fortunate it was that Sirana encountered her first of all the Staggs. Having not taken a seat, Owen is already standing and ready to go. He nods to her question. "Shall we, then?" he asks, motioning towards the trail they'd used to get here.

Drasta nods in response to Owen. "Yes, it is--but not for me!" she laughs heartily at this. "Oh, this is going to be fun." She starts off into the woods, Owen at her side.

Owen is so evil X)