Convergence (Chap IV)

[Wulfhere]

Vorodon's neck ached from resting on the too-small bed, but it wasn't going to get any better laying in that infernal cot.  Maybe he'd have more luck with the local armorers today.

Scratching a dozen fresh bites from the bed's inhabitants, the half-ogre shuffled to the door.  Throwing it open for Aerax, he groggily began putting on his rust-besmirched armor. Its battered iron and improvised repairs still needed work, but it would have to serve. 

He'd spent the previous evening in the inn's common room, straightening, polishing, and sharpening his darts.  With fresh leather vanes and the quiver carefully mended, they looked as good as new.

[EchoMirage]

A nod of hers later, Kyrian and Shallaya were off. On the stairs, he saluted one of the girls. "Luna, please take the helm, if you can."

Upstairs they went, the thick carpet muffling the sound of their steps. Apparently, with the Convergence underway, the establishment was brimming with guests - the red lanterns above most of the girls' door spoke of lively usiness even in the bright light of day. Not that daylight mattered much - thick ruddy curtains insulated the rooms from the flow of time, allowing for comfort and intimacy. Why, he had helped with furnishing several of the rooms a few years back.

The second floor was Shallaya's - her quarters, library, bath and guest room. As she unlocked her door, Kyrian lifted her slender frame and carried his former mistress to the divan.

"I have but three things to ask of you: one, that you join me for dinner this evening; second, that you refrain from becoming any more enchanting, for my sanity is already in short supply. Third is most likely the easiest done - I have need of your social graces and attentive ears, for there is a youth I seek."

Briefly, he summed up his first serious employ ever, his rather fresh knighthood, his task. Truth be said, he was less curious about the lass he sought than how Shallaya fared. Kissing her upon the brow, he brushed long raven curls from her face: "I trust you are well...?"

[Murometz]

Adan and Tristan (Downstairs--Once-Proud Goose)

By the time Adan had reached the Once-Proud Goose, walking slowly and lost in his own thoughts, Tristan had caught up with him as well.

As the two entered the inn, Tristan was telling the sullen Adan about the Symposium, and that in two days time, the young Triguian would himself be participating in the great religious forum.

“Of what should I speak, think you, when my turn comes?” he asked Adan several times, excited about his opportunity.

Adan was about to answer, but just then the two walked inside the doors of the establishment, and were greeted by the pungent smell of perfume. This inn did not look quite right, Tristan thought suddenly. There were few tables, and no food service. There was no barkeep which could be seen, but there were two hulking goliaths, shirtless, arms crossed, standing at the far end of the inn, beside a gossamer, translucent curtain of red-beads, and keeping an eye on the patrons. Tristan immediately recognized the pair to be eunuchs, their hairless chests, bald heads, and soft, almost effeminate features giving them away.

The patrons themselves, were rather innocuous. Here and there men and women spoke in hushed, and sometimes not so hushed tones, sharing cocktails and exchanging pleasantries. Occasionally a couple would disappear behind the far wall's red curtain, arm and arm, and other times, men and women emerged alone.

All in all, it was certainly not difficult for the Triguians to recognize a den of iniquity when they saw one, no matter how casual and quaint this one seemed to be (no garish decorations, no blatant proposals, etc). The atmosphere was relaxed and almost genteel even. It seemed a place friends would come to chat.

As they stood at the entrance, contemplating and looking about for Kyrian, they were approached by a slight, inebriated-looking fellow, with a noticeable paunch and bad teeth.

“Oh-ho! Triguians, eh? bit o' surprise”, he blurted and smiled his crooked smile. “Not often we get those here in da Goose, but with the symposium an’ all, I don’t blame ye!” He chortled on. “See anything or anyone ye like?” another lizard-smile.

"Dont mind Old Lathon" came a female voice from behind the odious, little man. "Priests are welcome" a flaxen-haired beauty smiled, and curtsied ever-so-slightly. "My name is Luna. Drinks?" she cooed, "Our wine is better than our ale, and our wine is not what we're known for", her grin widened as she winked at young Tristan, while a bit put off by his pale, gruff-looking companion.

<ooc>More posts coming soon! posts for all! bwahaha</ooc>

[Murometz]

Kyrian (Upstairs--Once-Proud Goose)

“I am as well as can be. I marry in a fortnight” She said matter-of-factly, surprising Kyrian.

“As to your first request lover, I acquiesce. As to the second as well, for I fear I cannot become any more enchanting than I already am.” She smiled, nestled tighter against Kyrian’s body and then continued.      

“As to the third, we all seek a youth from time to time, do we not? And youth in general I may add. Except you of course, the ageless wonder”, she dropped her glance now, always embarrassed in his presence of her own humanity, meager life-span, and the insidious little wrinkles around her eyes.

After Kyrian related his tale however, she pondered for a few moments in a more serious manner.

“You lost a girl?” she finally smiled again. “A first time for everything lover. Give me a few days to make some inquiries, I will have Old Lathon look into it. If your girl is in the city, we may find her yet. A bird on her shoulder, you say? How quaint.” Shallaya pursed her lips.

“Now then, before we dine, perhaps an appetizer?" She nearly lunged at the knight, wrapping his lithe frame in her long arms, and passionately kissing him.

"Care to mark your rose in yet more dew?" she managed to mumble, between heavy breaths.

[Murometz]

Talia, Aerex, Vorodon, and Kasin. Dockside

Aerex and Vorodon met Talia downstairs, and the three soon departed the comforts of the inn, and merged into the chaos of the morning streets.

As they walked Aerex explained the peculiar note he had found from “KM” and Kyrian’s assumed plight at the docks. Talia stared in wonder and surprise all around her as she listened to Aerex. She had literally never seen as many people, crowding the same spaces, as she was seeing now, ever in her life. Vorodon was quiet, still perturbed at the shopkeeper from the previous day who simply refused to understand plain common. The half-ogre looked to be in some discomfort as he likewise gawked at Jantir’s citizenry and its pomp and circumstance. Well, at least my darts are sharp once more, the giant thought, as some scrawny merchant insisted the half-ogre get out of his way.

Aerex took the quickest route he knew, and the trio wound there way past the Temple District, along Draggone’s Way, and across the magnificent Dynast’s Bridge of Triumph. Aerex commented on the sites and sounds around him, and briefly related the history and dichotomy of cultures, two in particular, which had forged Jantir over the centuries into what it was.

As he spoke, Aerex was actually lost in thoughts of his own. His eyes darted to and fro, expecting at any moment to see or notice someone he knew. He remembered the day he left the city, he remembered his father, his colleagues, and the circumstances of his past. All these memories came rushing back in earnest now, the sites, sounds, and smells of his birth city, enhancing his visions.

At last the three paused, as Aerex pointed to an outdoor smithy, situated along Tinsmith’s Plaza.

Maugamer’s Forge, the sign read, and as Aerex explained to Talia., no finer weapon smith existed in Jantir. If anyone could put a proper edge on the Blade-dancer’s fans it was Maugamer the urbanized dwarf, Aerex concluded confidently.

<ooc> Talia, feel free to leave the fans here  to get honed, or come back to do so later, if ye wish</ooc> 

Later still, the companions finally crossed over into Baycity, a part of Jantir as large in area as any other whole city in the Empire.

Here the domes and minarets of the Central District, gave way to more humble buildings and abodes, though there were just as many people in the streets here.

The great feature of Baycity however, other than the tiered streets, and perilously perched shops, was the blue-green waters of the Bay of Screaming Eagles, with a thousand ships and boats bobbing in the harbor, and a thousand times that in gulls and other birds, circling overhead, whitening the skies with their flocks, and screeching  in a deafening cacophony. It was truly a site to behold, and the aroma of the sea permeated the air, as the three companions descended along the tiered, narrow streets and into the din and clamor of the docks.

Here the air suddenly smelled more of fish than the sea itself, and Aerex now paused and looked about once more, finally spying the mile-long outdoor market of fish-mongers known locally as Zjerzhon’s Emporium, where countless outdoor stalls and stone slabs, featured every creature of the known sea for sale, and some that weren’t known, some alive, some dead, some dried and salted. Fish-mongers screamed over one another, and brandished their fish knives, as almost every few minutes, more and more  fish were brought from the nearby ships and boats for the fish-mongers to butcher and sell.

At that moment, Aerex spotted a man he once knew well, and his heart skipped a beat. Speaking to a filthy looking fish-monger was an aging gentleman, square-chinned with a shaven bald head, in his late sixties by his appearance, and sporting a maze of wrinkles around his eyes, his poorly-tanned forehead shining in the sun. Thyran Domavaulage was far from his supply shop in the Central District this day, Aerex thought and smiled.

Just then, as Aerex stared at his old friend, Vorodon, sharp-eyed as ever spotted the another man, a man the half-ogre still remembered best for his mad dash down the hill at the verbeeg, one Kasin Mirinar.

The bard looked about nervously, as he wandered the stalls of Zjerzhon’s Emporium, stopping occasionally to examine drift-wood tables laden with stinking fish. He had not apparently noticed Vorodon, Aerex or Talia as of yet.

<ooc> more to come actually, but feel free to post</ooc>

[Siren no Orakio]

Taking in the surroundings of the Once-Proud Goose with those weary eyes, Adan's left eyebrow could not help but rise one notch, his grim expression otherwise difficult to read for a long moment. Until, at last, the two accosted, his Brother in faith propositioned, his head tilted back faintly, and a sound that had not passed his lips in many a month did so once more. Laughter, deep and rich and real.

"Brother, our fried Kyrian is a trickster indeed, it would seem." A shake of his head, and he stepped forwards past the old man, with a smile and a gesture of something like appreciation towards him, before bowing towards Luna, as deep and precisely as if he were speaking to one of his own station, his low voice smooth and sincere, free of even a trace of mockery, as are his eyes. "I fear, my Lady, that we have come on business other than our own; our companion asked us to meet him here when we were done with our time at the temple. But if you will, a stout of the north, and a moment to sit, and wait for our friend to... exhaust his business here, and I would be most grateful."

Unexpected, that he would bring us here. But, I suppose there are worse places. At least they seem to mean no harm here, yet. Lord, help them find a better way.

[Murometz]

Luna and Old Lathon stared at Adan for amoment, awaiting another laugh to let them know he was speaking in jest. No laugh came.

"A stout is all they want, deary", Lathon finaly broke the silence and giggled. "A stout they shall have"

The Triguain were shown to a small table, seated, and given beer.

"And who is this friend who's exhasution you wait on, eh?" Luna asked "Surely not the last man to enter our establishment? If its Kyrian you seek, your wait will be long indeed. That one's stamina is legendary here at the Goose." she smiled again now, and excused herself, leaving Adan and Tristan sitting alone.

[Chaosmark]

Tristan blushed faintly at Luna's first comment, this being the first time he'd ever been propositioned. Most who would do so avoided him due to his obvious religious inclination, but there was a first time for everything he supposed. Before his priesthood, he'd been too drug-addled to have much to do with the fairer sex. Perhaps he could do some good here, even if it wasn't filling the purse and loins of some young lady.

"Watered down wine, if you will, ma'am." he said as he followed Adan to the table, "Kyrian is indeed our acquaintance, though I'd prefer to not know about his exploits." This could be a long wait... The priest sat, and began pondering about what he would say on the third day's gathering.

"So, brother, what pray tell, should I speak of at the Symposium?"

[Siren no Orakio]

No, indeed, it was no joke, though Adan could not help but smile ever so slightly at the expectant pause, and in response to the warning of Kyrian's stamina, he can only chuckle with some ruefulness. "I have no doubt that he's demanded your finest, too. " A shake of the head, even as he takes his first draught of the beer at hand, frowning at the priest across the table from him.

"I cannot advise you well, for I am no priest or preacher. You know that. But now, if it were I, I would speak of how Trigu and his Rhin see to it that our deeds come back to us, and how we can overcome them." A pause, as he looked at the bitter brew before him, that grimness settling into his face once more, though now, accompanied by a powerful determination. "It is, after all, my fate. The day after your speech, Brother, I will be departing this city, to make my peace and to hunt what has been sent for me..." A pause, then, as he trailed away, looking at the other, as if to see how this would effect him.

Until, at least, he relaxed slightly, sparing a smile for a raven-haired woman, even as he dug out the paper and quill he'd dug up on the path here.

Lieber Vater.

Ich habe es gedankt, dass es ist die Uhr fuer meinen Ersazt zu machen, wie mann Moeglichstes kann. ...

[EchoMirage]

"I congratulate you, Shallaya - I would not have deemed it possible for anyone to tame you enough to put a shackle of gold on that slender finger of yours."
Happines he wished her, yet that moment was theirs, dreamy amongst carmine satin in mellow, sleepy light.

Rising some time later, the knight ran his hand through his damsel's hair - highborn or not, for him, she was a damsel indeed; unique in that she has retained a youthful charm even in the merciless business that her trade was more often than not. Every carefree moment he could provide her with filled Kyrian with a deep feeling of contentness.

"To leave I have, for stalk the city I must. If you require anything, feel free to call upon me, and I shall make haste to you. When the sun sets, I will be here to dine with you. Until then, take care."

Truly, knighthood was a two-edged sword to have; in the years before his spurs were granted, the decision between leaving and staying was his to make, today, something greater drove him.
His liberty traded in for a purpose?

He kissed Shallaya's brow, and caressed her face and neck once more, before turning away.

Downstairs, two stern-faced men waited, eyeing him like a criminal, despite the frosty beer and light wine before them. Indeed, Kyrian failed to understand how their expression could be compatible with this cozy place and a good drink. "Adan, Tristan - I thought you would take longer tending to your religious needs and duties; firmly did I believe I would manage dark lager before you appeared. If you can suggest a course, well then, otherwise, I have to meet a few old friends to learn what transpires in this steam kettle that is Jantir."

[Dozus]

"See that big pillar over there, the one with the guy on it?" Aerex pointed out as they ambled through the busy Jantir streets.  "That's the monument of Dynast Tharobis Heathen-bane.  He started a sort of inquisition in the Empire, kicked out anyone with 'heathen' beliefs.  It really ended up being a race purge, and a whole bunch of Khefarans were persecuted."  He turned around to see Voro and Talia looking quizzically at him.  "Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself," he said sheepishly.

The three moved onto the Bridge of Triumph, Matare fitting in as he elbowed a path through the dense crowd of pedestrians on the bridge.  The smell of pastries and fresh bread wafted through the air; Aerex remembered briefly that his favorite bakery was nearby.  But there was little room in his head for reminiscing thoughts as he continued his rambling historical tour.  "The Khefara lived here before Jantir existed.  There's a big Khefaran remnant still around Jantir.  They're easy to spot: chiseled cheekbones, short brows, kinda yellowish skin.  The Southfolk settled near here couple hundred years ago.  They were pretty amiable with the Khefara for a while, but then they got to thinkin' that there was gold in the hills near this river.  Khefarans had a big river village called Ssembra; some folk still call Dockside Ssembra 'cause of that.  Eventually the Southfolk started a war and subjugated the Khefara.  The First Dynast led the fight and built an empire outta the new territory.  Khefara are stubborn, though, and a bunch of 'em never left.  In some places, you can see a lotta Khefaran influence."  As they finished crossing the bridge, Aerex spotted a spire jutting up from the urban landscape.  "See that?" he pointed.  "That's a Khefaran Ghost Tower.  Or, it used'ta be."  The tall wooden cone narrowed sharply toward the top, a pair of steps spiraling up to its peak where a crown of spokes jutted out.  The whole thing was painted a brilliant blue.  "They're important religiously for the Khefarans, though I'm not muchuva Khefara theologian, y'know?"  Matare suddenly became aware of his increasingly apparent Jantiri accent.  Old habits die hard, he thought.

Aerex cleared his throat.  "It's still a sore topic among many Jantiri," he said, consciously suppressing his accent.  "Even though it's a major trade city, there are many who look down on non-Southfolk."  He nodded to Vorodon.  "That's probably why you got a raw deal by yourself in the armorer's.  I'll deal with the next smith, get us a fair bargain."  As they walked closer to Dockside, the smell of fresh (and otherwise) fish drifted in the air.  It grew stronger and stronger until they finally reached the busy docks.  "Kyrian must be around..." Aerex started.  He paused suddenly, squinting in the sunlight reflecting off the water.  "Is that... Thyran?"

Aerex walked closer, suddenly wordless to Talia and Vorodon.  The old man's bald head reflected sunlight off its burnt scalp.  He turned slightly, giving Aerex a better view of his square chin and partly toothless smile.  "By the Dynast," he said breathlessly.  Matare turned to Talia and Vorodon.  "Hey, I'll be right back," he said, already walking quickly to Thyran.

"Hey, old man!" Aerex greeted playfully.  "Ain't you s'posed to be runnin' a shop in the Central District?"

[Ria Hawk]

Talia wasn't saying much, concentrating on listening to Aerex's explanations.  She'd never tell him, but she wasn't much impressed with what she'd heard so far.  Gypsies were heathen-folk by most city-folk's estimation; actually, heathen-folk according to anyone but a few shamanistic tribes they dealt with out away from civilization.  Therefore, she didn't really care to see a man famed for starting an inquisition honored in such a way.  She'd be quiet about it, and as careful as she could.  She trusted Aerex, but that trust did not extend to the other people of Jantir, and she would be just as glad to let Aerex deal with them.

And... Aerex had just run off.  She sighed.  Evidently he'd seen an old acquaintance.  Well, if she and Vorodon stayed put until he came back, they couldn't get lost.

[the Wanderer]

Kasin looked around the stalls, obviously impressed. Some of the fish he saw were new to his eyes…a rare concept indeed.
He shifted the weight of his pack from one shoulder to the other. He was anxious, but with good reason. He never met the man he was here to do business with. His employer assured him things would go smoothly, but he was still uneasy. Master Jal had instilled this in him a very long time ago. He knew how wrong things could go in a deal like this and he was taking no chances. He loosened the straps on both his sword and dagger.

He scanned the market once again, being careful to watch for guards or “too familiar” faces. Then he spied what he dreaded most…the ogrish fellow Vorodon was just across the market, and standing with him was Aerex and the gypsy woman Talia. d**n my luck!
He knew what had to be done, but his plan was now useless. “Business first, then pleasure” the voice of Tander sounded softly in his mind. He quelled the feeling of dread the memory gave rise to and steeled his heart. Business first…

He moved slowly around the stalls, keeping watch for both his contact and on his three “companions”. It was easy enough to keep a few bodies between them; this was a fairly busy market. He scanned the stalls again. Two away to his left he saw his contact, just as his employer has described him. He strolled over calmly when the crowd was the thinnest. He smiled broadly, pointing at a rather odd looking fish and retrieving a few coppers from his pouch, thanks to the patrons at the inn. He spoke in a low voice, his smile never wavering.

“Came to see the cove, a family man friend of mine might be there, to ring the changes. Haven’t seen a bandog in a bit, so no worries from the new drop…far as I can tell.
The swag was easily acquired and moved, and if the King’s pictures are ready we can get on with it, yes?”

[Wulfhere]

Vorodon was confused by his friends' behavior.  Apparently, the Insector saw someone he knew, but Talia preferred to wait for him by the fishmongers' stalls.  True, the fish were fascinating, but the bladedancer seemed uninterested in the bounty of bizarre seafood laid out there.

Looking over the crowd, Vorodon noticed a familiar face.  It was that traveler from the Ogre Hills, Kasini or something like that!  It would have caused too much ruckus to bull through the crowd to greet him, but perhaps Vorodon could get his attention another way.

"Travelman Kasini!  Hey, Kassinnniii!" the goliath bellowed, waving his arm in enthusiastic greeting.  The man seemed not to notice him right away, so he stepped up onto a barrel of salted falchio fish and shouted a bit more loudly.

Some of the market folk stared at the half-ogre's outlandish ruckus, and a few actually looked a bit frightened, but Vorodon thought he was adapting well to this new place.  Jantiri people were loud and obnoxious:  He should fit right in.

[Siren no Orakio]

It was with a half indulgent smile that Adan nodded, shrugging faintly as he looked in the general direction of the Temple of Trigu. "We were lucky in our timing, my friend, and the charge given to me extends far beyond the temple, for I serve Him in the world, not in His home. And, a moment more will make no difference to us." A frown slipped over his face, then, as he looked at the folded and sealed parchments in his hand, the eloquent pleas to family, recorded in his flowing hand.

"If you do not mind, friend, I need to hire a trustable messenger. I must, I fear, break the seal of banishment that my Duke has placed upon me, and would send him word before appearing before him. My neck is sore enough, without adding a headsman's blade to the recipe, and I do not think the good sergeant in change of the garrison here will assign me men any longer. After that, I am at your service, so long as it is reasonable. Corrupt as she is, there were still a few good people in this town when I was here last."   

[Murometz]

Talia

Talia looked around half-bored, half-repulsed by the madness that was Dockside.

Vorodon had now spotted that peculiar Mirinar man, and there was no stopping the lumbering half-ogre from getting over to the stand where Kasin was speaking to some balding fish-monger.

Great, now I’m standing here alone, she sighed and started looking around as she meandered in Aerex and Vorodon’s general direction. Avoiding the smelly (and often flying) fish, she walked a bit behind the stalls and stands of the Emporium, closer to the water.

Dozens, no, hundreds of sloops, barges, and ships, lined the harbor, a thousand flags flapping in the wind.

Just now she passing a massive dromond, docked and idling. So huge was the ship, that Talia felt as if she was passing underneath it. Men, Khefarans, she assumed from Aerex’ recent description of them, were carrying crates down a gangplank and onto the docks. There was no telling what was inside of them, but it certainly was not fish. The dockhands headed past Zjerzhon’s Emporium and deeper into the maze of the Docks district.

The men rushed past Talia ignoring her completely, though one did manage a quick smile and wink. She stood for a moment and looked out into the blue-green waters, and wondered again, how in the seven hells she would find a single man inside this giant city. It was impossible, she chided herself. If her ancestors were watching over her, as she was sure they were, now would be the time for them to send some clue to guide her.

Once more she sighed, as she saw Vorodon climbing a barrel and shouting over the screeching fish-mongers to draw Mirinar’s attention.

She smiled and in that very instant something caught her eye. Something that made her freeze in place. For a moment she could nothing but stare.

Talia was looking up at the side of the dromond. Along the worn, sea-warped wood, she could make out the name of the ship, written in faded white paint.

Talia


<ooc>DONT post, Aerex, Mirinar, and Vorodon! one more post coming for you!</ooc>

[Ria Hawk]

Talia stared up at the ship that shared her name, open-mouthed.  That was a sign, it had to be.  Though what a sign that obvious meant, she had no idea.  She closed her mouth, and started to think.  Well, she'd thought about her father being a sailor, hadn't she?  Maybe he served on this vessel.  The only other idea that she had was so ridiculous that she rejected it outright.  She started to look around, trying to see if any of the crew of this particular ship could spare a moment to talk to her.  She felt more comfortable approaching a Khefaran than whatever they called the dominant group anyway.  "Excuse me, do you know if any gypsy men sail on this ship?"  She didn't know how old her father was.  "Old enough to have a grown daughter?"

[Chaosmark]

Tristan's shock was plain to see. Here was a brother in Trigu who had as much as admitted that he had committed a wrong so great that he was being chased by one of the mythical Ska! "Surely you aren't suggesting that you leave to face your past alone, brother. To do that is almost surely foolishness. Bring myself and the others along. Some tasks cannot be managed without assistance."

[Murometz]

Kyrian, Tristan, Adan.

Kyrian, Adan, and Tristan chatted and drank in the cozy (even Adan had to admit) confines of the Once-Proud Goose for a bit more, then left the establishment at last, off to visit another one of Kyrian’s old acquaintances, this one who could prove to be of twin uses. As they walked, Kyrian described the man they were hoping to find. Halnoli Usstro, the Kepharan mage, one of ‘slight’ elvish blood as well, Kyrian noted, was an old friend of the knight from his earlier days gallivanting in Jantir, just after his time in the Pits, and just before his induction into the Dew-Marked Rose. Halnoli was what was known euphemistically as a ‘stepper’, a mage who could not stay in one place, and had little patience for scholarly or arcane pursuits in some dusty library. Instead, Halnoli spent his time joining ‘adventurers’ in their daring-do’s and exploits, often hiring himself out as a mage for hire. Kyrian and Halnoli had indeed shared a few adventures together, and once even, Kyrian had saved the bushy-bearded wizard’s life. Halkoli, in addition, was a ‘friend’ of the Dew-Marked Rose, and associated freely with the knights of the ancient brotherhood.

By the time Kyrian was done with his tale, the three companions had reached Usstro’s “home”. An odd duck, Halnoli had been renting a room at the Hare’s Hair for as long as Kyrian could remember. If the mage was in Jantir, this quiet inn was the place to find him. Usstro eschewed having his own demesne, as the mage was often fond of saying, “Every wizard with a tower, gets killed.” Halnoli much preferred to rent a room in the inn, and remain inconspicuous. To each his own, Kyrian concluded.

Kyrian led the way as the three entered and crossed the taproom to ascend the staircase. Arriving at the door of Halnoli, Kyrian knocked dramatically, (some particular pattern of knocks actually, Tristan noted) and the door swung open, revealing not a wizard’s den, but an unkempt room, that could have belonged to anyone.

“Let me see if my latest spell is of use” announced a fat, red-haired, bushy-bearded man, who despite his weight and hirsute nature, displayed a peculiar, but slight, effeminate countenance.

This must be Halnoli, Adan surmised, as the bearded wizard closed his eyes tightly, in a contrived manner, and put his short, fat fingers to his temples, as if suffering from some great migraine.

“You have returned to Jantir to find someone. You come to me not only to visit an old friend but to ask of me a favor. Am I right?” Halnoli smiled like a child, opening his eyes. "I am nearly sure you dont have enough gold to pay me, so perhaps you will offer to do an old friend some favor in return, for whichever favor you ask of me? And perhaps I even have need of a favor granted, much to your well-known, good fortune."

“Well met, Kyrian of the Rose” the mage then added and winked, “Tell me you did not put noble Herald up in this place’s stables. The stable-boy is a known Hippospadian! And tell me, why do you bring priests with you?”

It was then Tristan realized why Kyrian mentioned twin uses for Halnoli. The mage could probably identify the magic of the verbeeg’s stolen treasures! The rings, the dirk, and that wicked Lochaber axe, the Triguian realized quietly without speaking.

[Murometz]

Aerex, Mirinar, Vorodon, and Talia.

Thyran turned in surprise at the voice, then smiled, his face wrinkling up pleasantly, and what looked like a tear glistening in his eye.

“What brings anyone to Ssembra? Fish, and bit o’ fresh air for me, young Matare. Tell me, what you brings you back? It is certainly good to see you though. Jantir has been a boiling cauldron lately. Good to see old friends. Even if they are still way too young to be old” Thyran smiled again, his kind face spider-webbing with wrinkles, despite his ferocious, lantern-like jaw, which seemed set in place, permanently.

“Have ye heard of fair Fairis? She lives on Harbormaster’s Isle, that one now. She came a long way. Married the fellow.”

For a moment, he considered something then added mysteriously, “We could use a good man...my friends and I” and

“I prattle, forgive me. Surely you came to pay respects at your father’s grave.”

When Thyran read Aerex’ face, and realized the young Matare’s surprise, Thyran grimaced and exhaled a deep breath slowly. “Forgive me. You did not know.”

--------------------------------------------

"Travelman Kasini! Hey, Kassinnniii!"

Only Vorodon was capable of shouting over the throngs of merchants and fish-mongers successfully, and successful he was.

The bald, robed man, Mirinar was speaking with, was about to answer Kasin’s opening salvo, when both men turned and stared at the half-ogre, who was standing upon a huge barrel of fish oil and waving his meaty hands in their direction.

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“Some discretion and prudence was all I asked for” the bald man said just then in a half-whisper to Kasin.

This must be Brother Hagopin, Mirinar had time to think. He had found the right man, but now this! What was this giant oaf doing?

“I am afraid we cannot ‘get on with it’, as you say, now, can we?” the hairless man frowned.

Meanwhile, a fish-monger began waving a particularly pliable sea-trout at Vorodon’s ankles and cursing the half-ogre in six different tongues.

“Get thee off, overlarge lummox! Get thine black-nailed, fungus-crusted, feet off my oil!” he finally tried in common.

Even Aerex and Thyran gave a look at the nearby commotion, though Aerex was now somewhat numb.

A few guffaws erupted from the nearby sellers and buyers of Zjerzhon’s at that moment, and just then, the bald, robed man, whom Kasin Mirinar knew as Brother Hagopin, yanked the satchel Mirinar was holding, and took off in an effortless sprint south-east along the dock. Quite swift he was, faster than most men Kasin had ever seen. For a split second Mirinar just stared at the strange man escaping with his “prizes”, somewhat shocked.

<ooc> roll was made. Brother Hagopin successfully “yanked” (fill in word of choice) Mirinar’s bag, and is speeding away. If you start to run after him immediately, you will be for all intents and purposes 1-2 “rounds” behind him, which is not bad, but he’s faster than you, which is kinda bad.</ooc>

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“Look atta' tha big oaf” one of the Khefarans laughed as he turned temporarily from Talia, to watch the half-ogre “dance” upon the barrel.

After a few moments he turned back to Talia and said,

“Gypsies? No woman, no gypsies aboard this here ship that I be knowing. This here be the flagship of his highness”, the dockhand spat in jest, “The Harbormaster.”

[Dozus]

Aerex turned away from the ruckus to face Thyran again, a lump growing in his throat.  "He, ah - he died?"  His words dripped
with disbelief, both at the news and his own reaction.  "I haven't seen him in - in years.  What happened?"

"Killed young Matare...he was...killed," Thyran lowered his voice.  I thought--I thought you knew when I just saw you, I thought--" Thyran shut up.  "No one knows who killed him....believe me a few of us looked into it."

The ranger's hands tightened into fists involuntarily.  "I need to know everything you know."

"Do ye want the truth, plainly then? He was killed for a bauble or two in his shop...I wish it were more noble..." his voice cracked, and he put his hand on Aerex's shoulder.  Some say some slight."

Aerex's eyes closed for a moment.  "I- I didn't know he had a shop.  Where is it?  Who's runnin' it now?"

"Aye, your father...he was always resourceful...who knew he was collecting all that junk down in the Burns...all that junk, and
opened a tiny shop he did...you know your father's imagination...a shell became a relic, a iron coin, and old artifact... Did alright for himself.." Thyran stopped in thought suddenly.  "There was talk...some old revenge...some say the guard was involved....but we shouldn't not speak of this here...my friends and I would speak to you in private."

Aerex bit his lip.  "Dynast's balls, of course the Guard are involved," he spat under his breath.  He paused as the words registered in his mind.  "What friends?"

"No, no, do not jump at anchovies.....we will speak in private, yes?"

He nodded.  "Yes, but I need to get my own friends first.  If something can be done, they're the ones to do it."

"You remember where you used to come see me? under the terraced bridge?  We can meet there...tonight."

Aerex nodded, his lips pursed.  "We'll be there.  It's, uh, it's good to see you again, old man."

"And you...again forgive me..I did not know."

"Thanks.  Be careful, we'll see you tonight."
Thyran's eyes narrowed.  "Stay clear of the bird-helms.  The split-lipped queen is mad!" he whispered.

Matare gave Thyran an odd look.  What's he talking about? he thought to himself.  But no time now.  Vorodon was shouting
and Talia seemed to be lost in her thoughts while looking at the bay.  Aerex quickly walked away from the fish stand, his mind set firmly on justice.

[the Wanderer]

Did he just steal my bag?
The bewildered Mirinar suddenly set his lips into a sly grin. A chase it was then. The bald man was fast, but he was in a rage. He began to run, jumping over barrels and crates as he went. His patients had held so far, his resolve a pillar of iron…but all that was behind him now, nothing but catching the bald man and retrieving his pouch and pay mattered.

He cast a sideways glance at Voro, his huge hand waving  in the air. He knew this was just the brute being friendly, so he couldn't bring himself to hold this unfortunate turn of events against him. He was, after all, the closest he had to a friend right now. He'd have to, if things turned in his favor, let the ogrish fellow in on his secret. He might even understand his reasons.

He turned his mind back to the escaping Brother Hagopin.
“Do you have any idea who you’ve crossed” he hissed between breaths “I wager you have no clue, you old bald son of a three legged goat!”
He pressed onward as fast as he could, a steady barrage of insults and curses flowing freely with every step. He shed his pack and dropped his cloak along the way.

No need for disguises now… Honor among thieves my ass!

[Wulfhere]

Vorodon was startled to see Kasin's hairless companion grab his satchel and nimbly flee through the market.  "I'd never catch up," he reflected, coming up with a better solution.

Snatching the lid from the barrel next to him, he hurled it at the retreating figure, discus-style.  While Vorodon's darts would be better suited for the task, it was too early in the day for killing strangers.  If he understood the locals properly, cutting purses was almost a sport in this mad city, and didn't always warrant bloodletting.  Knocking the thief down would suffice for now.

[Murometz]

Frisbee of Doom

A pneumatic hiss, a whistling sound, pierced the morning air, as Vorodon heaved the oaken disk, as if it were a plate at a dwarven wedding. Having some height over the gathered mob of people, allowed the half-ogre to get a good look, and thus good aim, at the fleeing bald monk. Moments later, the oil-stained barrel cover smashed into the running figure, striking him in the back and shoulder with a gods-awful, sickly crunch. The man never knew what hit him, and sprawled forward onto the wet stone of the thoroughfare.

The man made no sound, but simply slid further another fifteen feet after going down, until he finally came to a stop, face down in the street.

A commotion rang out, though few people actually realized what had just happened, and by the time Mirinar ran up to Brother Hagopin’s still form, a few fish-mongers and curious onlookers moved in to form a circle and get a good look at the “poor bastard.”

Mirinar gaped at the seeming corpse. The man was definitely not moving. The satchel had flown from his outstretched hand and lay a dozen feet away.

One egg was smashed, much to Mirinar’s horror, yellow-white mucous spreading out in a huge puddle, from the sack. The other one seemed intact.

As Aerex came upon the scene, he noticed a pair of "bird-helms", Jantir's exalted city-guardsmen, approaching from the opposite direction, their masks, one owl, one hawk, glinting beneath the late-morning sun, lazily rising to its zenith over Ol' Ssembra.

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“You’re hired!”

A reedy, white-whiskered man suddenly said to Vorodon, as he watched the trajectory of the half-ogre’s hurled barrel lid.

“Ye can carry as many crates as ten men, and ye can double as me’ bodyguard” the old man spoke unaware of his comic timing, at the near-tragic expense of one, Brother Hagopin.

<ooc>I rolled an 18. Despite Vorodon’s non-proficiency with flinging barrel lids (masterwork or otherwise), I figure that should “hit.” Brother Hagopin is out cold, along with having a fractured shoulder blade, a mildly damaged spinal cord, and raspberry-face. Cheers.</ooc>

[Dozus]

Aerex gritted his teeth as he saw the approaching bird-helms.  There was a time when he would have given anything to walk among their hallowed ranks, the most elite guardians in the city, some say the Empire and even the world.  But given their current situation and Thyran's warning, a foreboding feeling came over him.

"Friend, whatever you're trying to get, you'd better do it quickly," he said to Mirinar in a low voice, a hand clamped on his shoulder.  "Things could get ugly soon."  He quickly turned and jogged off toward Vorodon, who was being harassed by an old angler.  "He ain't for sale, citizen," Matare quipped as he approached, picking up on the gist of the conversation.  "You'll hafta find someone else."  The ranger pulled close to Voro's ear, or as close as he could given the height difference.  "Find Talia, we've gotta get out of here."