#angus wingless

[jesuisrimeur]

L’été Épicurien

Toute l'année Dans l'impatience D'avoir la chance De s'arrêter Laisser planer Prendre un peu l'air Se satisfaire Puis perdre pied

Et un matin Réveil serein Flotte un parfum Pour autre part

L'été qui s'en vient Nous flânerons sur les chemins Aux sables d'or fin Adieu pâles quotidiens Soleil et embruns Nous scellerons nos destins Ô Grand "MaYoDbAiN" Toi, dieu des épicuriens Toute l'année Dans l'espérance D'avoir la chance De "farnienter" Laisser couler Prendre un peu l'eau Rester à flot Puis replonger

Et un matin Ami de bien Vient ce refrain Nouveau départ

L'été qui s'en vient Nous flânerons sur les chemins Aux sables d'or fin Adieu pâles quotidiens Soleil et embruns Nous scellerons nos destins Ô Grand "MaYoDbAiN" Toi, dieu des épicuriens

© Angus Wingless

[mystery-moose]

FIC: Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V (5/?)

[AO3 link]

They’ve come a long way, but even ten years after the world was saved, they’re still not quite where they should be. A whim, a missing painting, and a handful of near-death experiences help a flip wizard and his apprentice bridge the gap.

Taako does his best. Angus takes some risks. Introductions are made, bonds are tested, and lessons are learned — better late than never.

The route Angus chose led them to a big square near the center of Neverwinter, a crossroads of a dozen different streets converging onto a central marketplace packed with people from every corner of Faerun. There was a clock tower here, covered in ornate golden filigree, stretching up into the sky. It was one of the tallest buildings outside the noble quarter, and besides serving as an easily visible landmark, kept excellent time.

It was a little past eleven, now. Angus knew the schedules well enough to figure they'd be able to score tickets easy enough, but he wanted to avoid the afternoon rush.

Taako wasn't exactly cooperating.

"How much?"

The aarakocra merchant pointed to the sign hanging from his cart. "Fifty gold, sixty for the shawl."

Taako blanched, the cloak he'd been admiring draped over his hands. "Sixty?! I wouldn't pay thirty for this thing!"

"Price is the price, wingless," the merchant said firmly. "You wanna haggle, go bother the rakshasa."

"Why would I haggle?" Taako scoffed, rolling up the cloak. "Stuff ain't worth my time, anyway."

Angus stood behind Taako, glancing around. He always kept one eye open and a hand on his coin purse whenever he traveled through the market square; getting his pocket picked one unlucky afternoon had taught him that lesson.

Good thing, too, since he was attentive enough to see Taako slip a scarf from underneath the cloak he was replacing on the cart. He tucked it behind his back with the practiced ease of a petty thief.

"This is all fine-count Calimshan silk, dunce," the merchant shot back, his feathers ruffling. "You won't find better prices north of Memnon!"

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, thug," Taako drawled with a smug grin. "This is a big-ass brand-name markup for chumps, and we both know it."

"Markup?!"

"This is some cast-off outlet shit you got from a thrift store in Tethyr, my dude! You're tripling your money at thirty gold."

Angus touched Taako's shoulder. "Sir? We should really get moving."

As Taako turned to face Angus, he reached over and discreetly pulled the scarf from Taako's belt. Taako's eyebrow twitched, but he grinned and laughed it off.

"No big shakes, boychik," he said casually. "Nothing here worth these prices, anyway."

The aarakocra grumbled, his wings unfurling slightly. "Forty five!"

"For the shawl?"

"No, the cloak!"

He turned away again, disinterested. The merchant made a disgusted noise.

"Fine! Forty five for the shawl!" He grumbled. "You're scaring off my business."

Taako turned and grinned. "Deal!" he said triumphantly, reaching for his coin purse while Angus tried to stealthily replace the scarf on the cart.

Suddenly, Taako spun and his ears pricked up visibly. Angus was about to ask what was wrong when he heard it himself — a sudden crash, loud and clattering, followed by the sound of screams almost drowned out by the noise of the crowd. He barely had time to react before Taako tackled him to the ground.

A wagon, small and built for city travel, crashed through the market stall behind them. People scattered in every direction as it raced through the square, heedless of pedestrians, bouncing over the cobblestones and coming within two feet of where Taako and Angus lay. They watched as the aarakocra took to the air while the wagon splintered his cart, then, accompanied by the screeching crash of wood and metal, it was suddenly stopped by a spell — Bigby's Hand, glowing a neon red, had appeared in front of the wagon and blocked its path.

Angus pushed himself to his feet. Taako was alongside him, dusting himself off. "The hell did that come from?"

"Alright, everyone, please step back!"

A woman, tall and broad shouldered with a long braid wrapped around her neck and a scar on her forehead, marched out of the crowd. She wore shiny full-plate armor and a tabard bearing the sigil of Neverwinter. Angus recognized her instantly as Dierdre Boudicca, Lord-Commander of the militia.

"This isn't a show!" she shouted, marching forward towards the wreckage. "If you need medical attention, speak up! Healers are on their way!"

"Hey! You still have to pay for that!"

He glanced over his shoulder — Taako was halfway through stuffing a shawl into his purse, smiling innocently while the merchant perched with his arms crossed on the ruins of his cart. Angus gave him a look, and Taako rolled his eyes before pulling out his coin purse.

Angus turned back to the crime scene. Militia men and women swarmed around Boudicca, pushing people away and trying to establish a cordon. The massive spectral hand disappeared as another woman he recognized stepped out of the crowd — shorter, younger, and clad in typical militia leathers and longcoat rather than heavy armor. Angus waved and managed to catch her attention.

He liked Silvia a lot. She was clever, compassionate, and had a strong sense of right and wrong. They'd collaborated on a few cases together, and though he'd been prepared for obstinacy, she'd helped as much as she could. It was more than he'd expected from anyone in the militia; private detectives weren't exactly popular with law enforcement. Angus had come to think of her as a very good friend, and he appreciated her help.

(He also appreciated her hair, thick and curly and tied behind her head. And her eyes, hazel brown set against mahogany skin. And her nose, a bit bigger than his, which scrunched up when she laughed. He didn't make any particular judgments about these things, of course. He just noticed them, that's all.)

"McDonald!" Silvia said with a grin as she approached. "Don't tell me this is one of yours?"

Angus smiled back. "No such luck. Can't expect every crook to just fall into your lap."

"You'd be surprised," she said, glancing back towards the wagon. Boudicca was directing others as they hauled the driver out. "Just sort of stumbled into this one, believe it or not. Wanted thief rounds a corner right into the Lord-Commander doing her weekly inspection. He bolts, hijacks a wagon, and there I am doing my rounds when he peels around a corner into the market."

"Jeez. Talk about bad luck."

"For him, sure." She turned back and smirked. "It's all a matter of perspective, right?"

Angus chuckled. Then his eyebrows rose. "Oh, hey, can I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure. What's up?"

He pulled out his notebook, tore out half a page and handed it to her.

"I'm working a new case," he explained. "Nothing I can talk about, yet, but if you happen to hear anything about a noted thief in town, or run into any seventh-level Evocation, could you let me know?"

"Real hush-hush, huh?" she drawled, taking the scrap of paper from him.

"Sorry," Angus said sincerely. "Client privilege."

"It's cool. I get it." Silvia stuck it in her pocket. "I'll keep an ear to the ground."

"Thanks, lieutenant. Really."

"No problem." Silvia leaned around to look past him. "Who's your friend?"

Uh oh.

Taako shoved Angus to the side as he stepped forward. "Hail and well met and stuff," he said, tipping his hat and grinning his Cheshire cat grin. "Name's Taako. What's your handle, maydl?"

Silvia's eyes widened as she glanced briefly at Angus. "So you're Taako, huh?"

"That's what it says on the merch! Why?" Taako leaned in conspiratorially. "Has Agnes been telling stories? Because I can guarantee at least half of them are true. Which half is up to you!"

She laughed, and extended her hand. "Lieutenant Silvia Hayden, Neverwinter militia. Nice to finally meet you, Taako."

Taako shook her hand firmly. He cocked an eyebrow. "You moisturize?"

"Got to, in this climate."

He nodded approvingly. "Nice."

Angus cleared his throat. "We're, uh, actually in a hurry, so—"

"News to me, my dude!" said Taako. Then he turned back to Silvia. "Why don't we do lunch? Boy's rail thin, needs to put on some ell-bees."

Angus sputtered. Silvia grinned, but shook her head.

"Can't," she said apologetically. "Got some legwork of my own to do. Angus isn't the only one who has to work for a living."

"Yeah, speaking of—"

"How about dinner then? His place." Taako leaned forward. "I make a mean risotto!"

"We should really get going—"

"Sounds great," Silvia said, barely restraining a laugh as she glanced between the two of them. "But I've got a thing. Rain check?"

"Sure, sure! Anytime's cool for us!" Taako said cheerily, elbowing Angus in the ribs. "Ain't that right, Angarang?"

Angus got between them and started to push Taako away. "Sorry, really gotta go! Talk to you later, lieutenant!"

"Give us a buzz!" Taako shouted over Angus' shoulder.

The moment they were through the crowd and out of the market, Taako burst into laughter.

"That wasn't funny!" Angus said, stamping his foot like he was eleven years old again.

"Au contraire, mon frere!" Taako managed to gasp. "That was fantastic!"

Angus moaned and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses while Taako steadied himself on his shoulder.

"Oh, kiddo," he sighed. "What a gift."

"To whom?"

"Me, mostly," Taako said honestly. "But don't worry, we'll get you that date yet."

Angus took off his cap and hit Taako over the head with it, which only made him laugh harder. "She is a friend and colleague!"

"Oh, don't play dumb!" he retorted, grinning wickedly. "She's your fucking crush, dipshit!"

Angus continued to hit Taako with his cap as the elf cackled maniacally. The final blow knocked his hat off. With a harrumph, Angus slammed his cap back on his head and stomped off down the street. He heard Taako follow close behind, still giggling, and the telltale sound of his umbrella wooshing through the air as he swung it idly.

In all honesty, that had gone about as well as he'd expected it to.

[zbags]

I'll bet right now somewhere, someone is doing that thing with the thing again. Remember that wacky "find the nostril" puzzle? Here's a thrill-filled sequel with earlobes and baby rats. I beg your pardon, I never promised you a meat Pikachu surgically composited from surplus pork. Human clones found on the moon are always seen at eye level because they're flat. Stop putting me in Lucite eggs when I'm asleep. Stop naming every mosquito you embalm "Ken.” The pegaslug generates more slime than its wingless relatives so that it won't dry out whilst airborne. Short row a cheliped, unravel a swimmeret, and double-decrease a segmented abdomen. I hate it when someone makes me so incredibly angry that I forget why I'm angry or who they are. Though succulent, these nectarines have developed functioning lungs and must be discarded. If you vape the red seahorse, you will understand that hats cannot exist and everyone is named "Angus.” If only I could avoid the Fruit Weasel's claws, I’d squeeze it to extract amazing bursts of flavor. Mommy and Daddy love my Bollywood remake more than me. (Sorry, this kid-friendly detachable salivary modulation shroud was not found to be lightweight, breathable, or a pleasure to wear.) Time traveling pornographers will find attractive people known to return as ghosts and pay them to attempt sex with their own specters on cam in the future.

[jesuisrimeur]

Disponible en audio numérique cliquez ici

Eldorado (Adios amigo)

J'ai la sale impression D'importuner l'univers Comme une folle intuition Que le monde tourne à l'envers

Hier j’ai vampirisé La terre, on a laissé faire Maintenant je plastifie La mer, est-ce bien nécessaire ?

J'ai ce cruel sentiment Que tout est parti en vrille Que c'était bien mieux avant Touche plus à rien c'est fragile

J'étais bien inspiré, L'air, je l'ai rendu amer J’ai tout intoxiqué Cancer de la stratosphère

Oh te amo Eldorado Eldorado adios amigo

J’ai cette drôle d’idée fixe Que l’essentiel est perdu Qu’à prendre tous les risques Rien n’a tourné comme prévu

J’ai eu beau m’exalter Trop fier, sur l’art de bien faire J’ai surtout façonné L’enfer, champion planétaire

Oh te amo Eldorado Eldorado adios amigo

Je bricole des solutions Pour excuser les dégâts Mais dans chaque équation L’inconnu c’est jamais moi

Je me suis evertué, Mes chers, à tout foutre en l’air Pour finir en beauté, Mes frères, la bombe nucléaire Oh te amo Eldorado Eldorado adios amigo

© Angus Wingless

[mystery-moose]

FIC: Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V (9/?)

[AO3 link]

They’ve come a long way, but even ten years after the world was saved, they’re still not quite where they should be. A whim, a missing painting, and a handful of near-death experiences help a flip wizard and his apprentice bridge the gap.

Taako does his best. Angus takes some risks. Introductions are made, bonds are tested, and lessons are learned — better late than never.

Angus wasn't great company on the way back to Neverwinter. He was fully aware of that, but he couldn't help it. His mind was a whirling dervish of conflicting thoughts and theories and potentialities, none of which he felt were worth verbalizing yet.

If what Percy said was true, there were very few people in Neverwinter or Rockport who could have cast that spell. Ignoring the very real possibilities that it was someone from outside the region, that Percy might not have up-to-date information, that the person who cast the spell might not actually be Mr. Wendell's murderer... no, that left him with far too many factors to consider. Focus on what you know, use what you can. Do the work and you solve the puzzle. Simple.

Yeah. Simple. That's what a mystery always is, right?

When he'd spoken to the curator, he'd asked about the Museum, about its security, about her work there, about her employees, about any bad history they had or recent suspicious behavior. He'd asked about the painting itself, as well, but when she'd only known the broad history of it, Angus hadn't given it any more thought. He'd assumed the item itself was of little importance.

Apparently, someone else had thought otherwise. Mr. Wendell was dead because of it.

Angus needed more information, and he needed it yesterday.

He and Taako had split up after they arrived in Neverwinter. Angus told him he had to pay a visit to the library, and rather than bore himself to death, Taako could sightsee or head back to his apartment. Thankfully, Taako was amenable to this arrangement. Angus gave him his key, and they went their separate ways.

There was enough daylight left to make a few stops before he made for the University library, near the center of the city. Angus knew enough of Neverwinter's winding streets to plot out a route in his head.

First came the potion seller, Mr. Dietrich. He was a bit taciturn, but after Angus threw down the gold to buy something, he'd started talking. He had no idea about the painting, no business at the Museum, knew almost no Evocation magic, and had been spending every night for the past week taking a sculpting class at the studio down the block. That alibi was so easy to check, Angus figured it had to be airtight. He checked it anyway, and it was.

Next was the performer, or rather, her agent. The firm representing her sat equidistant between the merchant and noble quarters. Penelope Reeve (or "Plucky Penny, the Astonishing Acrobat") was, indeed, out of town. After some pressing, her people managed to get her on a Farspeech stone, and Angus had been able to ask her a few questions. More than enough to rule her out as a potential suspect.

The retired adventurer was to be Angus' next visit, and he actually ran into her as she was stepping out of her home. She was exceedingly well-dressed, and as Percy had said, well past her prime. Angus almost ruled her out then and there, but she'd been eager enough to talk about herself (a trait common in adventurers) so he'd accompanied her to a local tavern where she proceeded to order the most expensive bottle of wine in the house. Angus tried his best to keep things on track, and after twenty minutes of meandering conversation, he determined a number of things: Holly Samson was very friendly, could hold her drink better than Magnus or Merle, and was no threat to anyone but her liver and her own bank account. Angus had excused himself, but made a note in his book to keep her in mind as a potential future contact.

As he stepped out of the tavern, Angus found himself oddly nervous. His last stop was the one farthest from everything, and a place he'd never been. He'd had dealings with local government before, obviously, but never with anyone in such a high position. He barely knew the protocol required to even request an audience. Angus was rarely intimidated purely by social standing — having been part of an effort to save the world tended to give you perspective on the pettiness of that sort of thing — but that wasn't all.

Lady Blisk was a living legend. She'd resided in Neverwinter for some two hundred years and, rumor had it, been alive far longer than that. She'd thwarted numerous assassination attempts on Neverwinter's Council of Lords, quelled an earthquake brought on by a rogue warlock, broke a tidal wave against the walls of the city, and slain at least two dragons — she wore their opals in a bracelet on her wrist, like a trophy. She'd donated more precious treasures and relics to the University and the Museum than any other two people combined, and that wasn't considering the ones she kept for herself. The poets called her the Herald of Winter, because when she died, Neverwinter would be vulnerable in a way it hadn't been in generations.

Angus had dealt with powerful people before. He'd even known powerful people. But none of them cast as large or as long a shadow as Lady Blisk. If she were responsible for this, if she were involved in any way... what could Angus possibly do to stop her? What could anyone?

There was nothing else for it. Angus adjusted his cap, straightened his coat, and walked straight towards Castle Never. In all likelihood, she'd never agree to an audience at all. But he had to try.

After Angus had gone through all the necessary channels (the captain of the castle guard, a representative from Neverwinter's Guild of Magi, and the castle's own chamberlain) he had been told that he would receive summons "within due course." That was all he could get from anyone about a time frame, so he shoved it into the back of his mind to worry about if and when he needed to.

An evening at the library would have been very relaxing after that experience, but by the time he got there, the sun was setting. Angus was very conscious of leaving Taako alone for an extended period of time given the amount of trouble he could cause (intentionally or otherwise) so rather than stay and study, he checked out the books he needed and left as quickly as he could. On the way back, waiting for wagons to cross, he skimmed briefly through one of the hardbacks.

Flight of the Flying V was painted by a person named Seathe Samulkyn. The record was less than clear on their gender, or even their race. Depending on the account, they were everything between a thinly-built bearded elf, a large long-haired human, or (in one case) a wingless aarakocra with pitch-black feathers. The only real consensus was that they were a "gifted Scholar of the Magickal Arts" who had lived "many lives upon Fayrune" and that their art was "beautiful beyonde all compare."

After he nearly collided with a streetlamp, Angus put the book away. He imagined his parents' voices chiding him for reading in the street, and Taako's lilting amusement as he threatened to trip Angus himself.

As he strode through the courtyard and up the steps to his apartment, Angus was both exhausted and oddly excited. The legwork was over, the research almost finished. He was on the cusp of something now — like he'd almost finished the corners of the puzzle, built the frame through which the truth could be seen...

Angus snorted. Wow, McDonald. Maybe tone it down a bit.

He reached for his spare key, hung invisibly at the top of the doorframe, and unlocked the door. Angus could smell food before he'd even opened it, and he realized just how hungry he was, having not eaten since the train ride back from Rockport.

"Hello, sir!" he said cheerily, pushing open the door. "What smells so g—"

Angus froze on the threshold as several things caught his attention at once.

There was a very large, very flowery bush in a ceramic pot in the far corner. A handful of awful paintings he'd never seen before were hanging from his walls, one of a cat climbing along a clothesline and another with dogs playing cards. His tiny kitchen table had been replaced by a larger one of heavy rosewood, with matching chairs.

Silvia was sitting in one of those chairs.

Taako turned, sleeves rolled up and his personal Sizzle It Up! with Taako and Company apron lightly stained with what looked like—

"Risotto, my dude," he said with a smug grin. "Want some? You must be starving."