(Arc 11-2) Odds, ends and changes.

[Anastasia]

> So the hag is dead! So Seira has returned! Two events converge as the heroes go to meet with Commander Oberuth. Indeed, Lyselle, Shamal and Berlioz find Seira waiting for them, an older elf in a cowled robe with them. "Sit down," The commander gestures, "This is Celebrimbor Drake, from the elven Kingdom of Pallanth. Seira and Sir Drake just returned to Balmuria."
* Seira nods at Lyselle, Shamal and Berlioz in greeting.
* Lyselle lifts her eyebrows, eyeing Seira and then the elven ambassador for a few moments. "Greetings, m'lord'," she offers the ambassador, smiling to Seira.
* Seira returns the smile!
* Berlioz nods indistinctively, proceeding to sit down.
* Shamal smiles at the sight of Seira, realising that she's actually missed the kooky half-elf, in spite of her dog-hating ways. "Hello, Seira," she says, maintaining a professional attitude since they have company, and nodding respectfully to the other elf. "Welcome to Balmuria, Sir Drake." Also, she just realised that Seira will have to call her Sir, now! Or Ma'am. Whichever.
* Seira waits on Commander Oberuth to speak, first.
> IN a slow, precisely spoken Common, "Hello," Celebrimbor inclines his head briefly.
> "Now then." Commander Oberuth goes on, "As you can see, Seira's mission was a complete success. On the morrow a coach and honor guard will come to escort Sir Drake to the capital and Lord Salman, and then escort him and Lord Salman back."
<Shamal> "Lord Salman will be returning here so soon?" Shamal asks in faint surprise. Hopefully things will go better, this time...
<Seira> "It would be an honor to meet Lord Salman again," Seira voices.
> "Yes. With a successful mission as well as recent...difficulties, Lord Salman has judged it wise." Commander Oberuth goes on, "Sir Drake, a servant awaits outside, whom will take you back to quarters in preparation."
> The robed elf murmurs consent, a nod. "Very well. May Mystra watch over you, Seira," he murmurs as he passes by the half elf.
<Seira> "Thank you once more for all your support, Sir," she returns, bowing her head.
> Celebrimbor exits out, a servant indeed waiting. Once the door closes, Commander Oberuth smiles briefly to Seira. "At ease, all of you. Seira, report."
* Shamal takes a seat and relaxes in order to listen to Seira's no doubt thrilling tale of adventure and intrigue among the savage elves beyond the frontier of known civilisation.
* Lyselle slips into her seat, folding her hands and watching their half-elf companion curiously. This should be interesting to say the least.
<Seira> "The negotiations were successful, Sir," she tells him. "The Council of Pallanth and its king agreed to open diplomatic relations with the United Baronies. The exchange of information comes first, followed most closely by the establishing of trade routes between our two countries. And in the future, magical cooperation to unlock the secrets the gnomes had left behind is the ultimate goal, should things progress well enough till that time."
<Seira> Seira smiles, then. "Even military cooperation should the God-King Daa-vid manage to assert himself on this plane of existence once more is not out of the question, Sir." She pauses, before tilting her head. "A full written report will be submitted to you shortly, Sir, but is there anything in particular you would wish to hear in more detail, now?"
<Shamal> "What did you have to do to convince them?" Shamal asks interestedly, leaning on the table. "Considering how insular they're supposed to be, it can't have been that simple, can it?"
> "That's something I'd like to know myself," Oberuth agrees, crossing his arms. "They're known for ignoring the rest of the world."
<Seira> "I underwent sanctification, recited my proposal and the information at my disposal under magically-enforced oath, and had to prove my skills in a combat environment," Seira responds. "The first was rather pleasant."
> "Gifts?" Commander Oberuth inquires, listening along as well.
* Shamal nods thoughtfully. "Sanctification? Yes, I suppose that... wait! Combat?" she starts in surprise, head whipping around to stare at Seira.
<Lyselle> "I note you didn't suggest the combat was enjoyable at all..." Lyselle added curiously, raising an eyebrow. "How'd it go?"
* Seira nods. "His Majesty deigned to send this blade as a show of his good faith, along with six potions," Seira tells the Commander, showing the sword at her hip. "Its main duty is to bolster a leader's charisma in battle, though I believe it can also be used effectively in interrogations and infiltrations, Sir. My conclusions and the reasons for them will be noted down in my report." She then nods at Shamal and Lyselle. "Yes. I had to f
<Seira> "Yes. I had to fight in an enclosed space with no cover. It was trying, at first, but I eventually found my rhythm."
<Shamal> "That's an odd way to conduct diplomacy..." Shamal mutters. "At least you won, then?"
> "I've seen stranger," Commander Oberuth grins at that story, "It's hard to argue with just having to pound something, better than dealing with most procedures."
* Seira nods once more. "As losing the gifts goes beyond the loss of the actual weapon and into diplomatic incident territory, I have chosen to keep them on my person," she elaborates then, for the Commander's sake.
> "That's fine for the moment," Oberuth waves his hand, "Now then. Shamal, Lyselle and Berlioz, report. How has the current situation gone, and there aren't any more dire tigers invovled, are there?"
<Shamal> "No," Shamal shakes her head with a smile. "The hag is dead, however. Also!" she reaches into her pouch and produces the fragments of the red gem found, putting them on the table, "I think she used a gem of imbued spellcasting, since she shot a scorching ray at my summoned crocodile - My guess is that these are the leftover fragments from when she used the gem. Those things are becoming oddly common lately, it must be said."
<Seira> "Even as far as the elven lands," Seira agrees. "And the hag is dead? Quapeth would be happy to know that."
> "Are they?" Oberuth scowls at the gem shards, "How did the elves get one? Is there a ruin in those lands?" His voice sounds thoughtful and yet irritated, "So how did the hag get one of those gems?"
<Shamal> "He probably won't ever go swimming again, that's for sure," Shamal sighs. "As for where she found it, that information will have died with her," the blonde admits. "Could have simply found it on the seabed for all we know."
<Seira> "Trade. If there is a ruin in those lands, they are not saying. Yet." She shrugs. "Perhaps Lord Salman would improve relations further, to the point they will share their records with us fully?"
<Lyselle> "How long have those things been around?" Lyselle asks lightly, blinking at Shamal's suggestion.
<Shamal> "Well, wasn't it the gnomes that made them to begin with?" Shamal asks, pocketing the fragments again. "But it seems like only now that we're becoming lousy with the things."
> "Trade? Then, by the Abyss, WHO is trading them around?" Oberuth presses, scowling. "Does someone have a stack of those that they're passing about?"
* Seira chooses not to answer, appearing captivated by Shamal's story.
<Shamal> "Didn't you say something about one having an elven spell on it before, Seira?" Shamal asks, cocking her head at the half-elf. "Unless the spell was originally developed by gnomes and now only known to elves, that points to a more recent origin."
* Seira thinks back to the fruits of her research. "It was created by an elf, yes, but this mage lived quite a lot time ago. And gnomes did have elven prisoners, I believe, which would offer an explanation for why they might know it."
<Shamal> "Well, even if someone is trading them, I think we can discount the idea of anyone trading with a Sea Hag of all things. More likely she found it on her own," Shamal surmises. "But still, Irenes has shown that people dealing in these items are a concern for us - the ones encountered so far have mostly been minor magic, but I'm almost positive this one had Scorching Ray on it - a second circle spell. How high can these things go?"
<Seira> "There is no reason to believe a limitation exists," Seira suggests.
> "A matter considerably worth investigating," Commander Oberuth agrees, eyes on Seira the entire time. "...hm. Well then, that fits in nicely with your current duties. Seira, I'll leave it to your comrades to go into detail, but the three of them have been promoted to Captain. Lord Salman left a task and instructions to them to investigate, and you're still a part of the Crimson Guard. Now then..." Commander Oberuth stands up, "According to Lord Salman's instructions to me, he wished to convey his congratulations on reaching the rank of Captain as well, on successful completion of your journey into the elven lands."
> "According to Lord Salman's instructions to me, he wished to convey his congratulations on reaching the rank of Captain as well, on successful completion of your journey into the elven lands."
* Seira looks happy at the announcement!
<Shamal> "Congratulations, Seira," Shamal beams at the assuredly youngest captain in the United Baronies.
<Seira> "And to you three," she returns, mirroring Shamal's smile.
> "Then, I leave you to your own duties for the day," Commander Oberuth murmurs, "Dismissed."
* Seira lets her friends who had remained in Balmuria all this time take the lead for the time being.
* Shamal stands up and salutes to the commander, starting to head for the door. "So..." she considers, "Investigate Malmuth's intentions, or try to root out the cause of the undead infestation?" At that she glances at Seira, "Oh, yes, you weren't here - we had another incident while you were gone. A butcher was... controlled or turned into something, and harbouring ghouls. Not pleasant business."
* Seira nods in seriousness. "I never believed that issue to be truly closed," she tells Shamal. "I wish I could have been proven wrong."
> As the party heads for the door, a servant passes by and goes to Commander Oberuth. "Sir," his voice carries, "The messanger reports that diplomat Almand is returning this way due to the recent unanticipated events cancelling many functions..."
* Berlioz raises an eyebrow slightly. "... well, that is a turn of events."
<Shamal> "It is?" Shamal asks, not recognising the name.
* Lyselle turns to eye Berlioz, still smiling faintly. "How so?"
<Berlioz> "He's a Malmuthian count who passed here in a business venture some time ago. In retrospect, it's no wonder the Crimson Guard was requested for escorting him. He probably expected better than being stuck with me, though", Berlioz finishes, chuckling ever slightly.
* Seira barely manages to conceal a snort at that.
<Shamal> "Why's a Malmuthian coming here if his... functions, are being cancelled?" Shamal asks, not quite getting it.
* Berlioz sighs contently, leaning back against the wall. "Of course, then I look at Seira and realize he could have met worse fates still."
* Lyselle smirks just a bit, shaking her head. "So perhaps we should saddle him with both of you this time?" she suggests, glancing between man and half-elf.
<Seira> "Let's not, for the sake of justice."
<Berlioz> "It was a formal business venture, from what I remember. Mostly negotiation/diplomatic business. He is an influential man in Malmuth, and his business in Balmuria seems fairly consistent. And, really, Seira wouldn't last long with Almand. His wit is a bit sharp for the likes of her", the bard finishes softly.
<Seira> "Alas. I shall go and search for more undead, then," she ponders out loud.
* Berlioz nods. "Don't get lost inside your wardrobe. Have a field day", the bard deadpans.
<Shamal> "He missed you terribly," Shamal faux whispers, leaning towards Seira.
<Seira> "I can tell," she responds dryly, before voicing, "Well, there we have it. Exploring my wardrobe or hooking up with Berlioz's bosom buddies from Malmuth. What do you two feel like doing?"
<Shamal> "How about we do some investigating on the undead problem?" Shamal suggests. "I'm not really much for the political intrigue."
<Lyselle> "I was taught to end that sort of conflict with troops and blood..." Lyselle admits plainly, her smile wry.
<Berlioz> "I'll be fine by myself. The undead issue intuitively needs more power in numbers, anyway."

[Anastasia]

> As the others leave, Berlioz can hear Commander Oberuth talking to the messanger. "Yes...I suppose with the assassination attempt...alright, dismissed," he calls.
* Berlioz remains calmly leaning against the wall, looking down. "So. I suppose I should escort him once again?"
> "For as long as he's here. His trip deeper in was scuttled due to various defensive restrictions, so he's heading back home for now." Oberuth looks on at you, "Going to milk him?"
<Berlioz> "Not my intention unless it's somehow turned into guard. Dealing with drunks generally doesn't appease me much. Unless you meant something else with that, in which case, I'd rather not know."
> "....For information," Commander Oberuth gives Berlioz a very odd look. "On MAlmuth."
* Berlioz coughs awkwardly. "Oh, that. Pardon me. I could try, but I won't actively try to squeeze that out of him - it'd raise untimely suspicions, and he's well aware of our current context."
> "I suppose he is," Commander Oberuth says, quite plainly. "Regardless, do keep an eye on him?"
* Berlioz nods. "It's part of my job. It's not too bad, anyhow."
> "Well then, go rest up and be at the gates for him when he gets here," Commander Oberuth nods once, "Dismissed."
* Berlioz nods, bows awkwardly and leaves. Oh well.
> So Berlioz prepares and rests. When he arrives at the gate the next day, he finds a carraige soon approaching. I tmakes good time towards the gates, it's passanger already known to Berlioz as it approaches.
* Berlioz placidly waits, rocking back and forth a bit before putting himself into a more suitable position to an escort.
> Soon you see the bodyguards, giving Berlioz a suspcious look. The escorts get out, opening the coach - with minimal fanfare he comes out, glancing about. His face looks stonecast until he glances on Berlioz, when a warm smile shows. "Ah! we meet again, Liuetenant."
> Count Almand glances at Balmuria and the gate, then back at Berlioz.
* Berlioz snickers. "It's good to see you again, Count Almand", the bard replies with a salute. "I apologize for the detour, but I'm sure you're aware of the situation we've gotten ourselves into lately."
> "Naturally." Falling into a walk with Berlioz, "My official congratulations on your nation's survivial of such tragedy."
<Berlioz> "Well, quite frankly, we got a bit... blessed in the latter developments of the events. Although any attempt of that kind severely dampens the spirit of any nation with a noticeably strong ruler."
> "All the stronger to rebound with, wouldn't you agree?" As you pass in, the gate guards quickly and sharply salute. "What of the assassin? I have heard she was captured, but that there has been no process as of quite yet."
* Berlioz sighs. "That woman's probably eating a death penalty as soon as we turn our heads back. I couldn't fathom why would most people care about her fate, regardless. You get caught trying to rip an entire kingdom apart by killing a ruler, you pray that the throat is the only thing that will get torn apart."
> "Yes, yes," As you walk down the main street, the Temple of Waukeen far ahead, "Still, such a skillful assassin does have an unspoken use to one that can control her, hm?" AFter that, Count Almand chuckles. "It is a good thing our nations are civilized."
<Berlioz> "I'm not so sure about her skill. She got caught in a position where she had -all- the tools and right conditions to escape. She was the lowest rabble of a hirer too lazy to look for competent killers. In that case, I don't think it's a matter of civilization, just having enough money to make people actually throw together competent plans to attempt coup d'etats. And, considering competence is hard to come by, this seriously limits the
<Berlioz> And, considering competence is hard to come by, this seriously limits the spectrum of action taken by conspiracy mongers and power-hungry rogues, yes?"
> "So entirely true..." Almand considers as he heads for the nearest inn, "Still, it may have been that...or perchance internal?"
<Berlioz> "It could've been anything, really. I wouldn't rule out even flying monkeys at this point. But then, those were a few surreal days", the bard finishes with a sigh.
> "True again," Almand muses to himself, "Heady, difficult days. You sound tired of them."
<Berlioz> "It just vaguely annoys me. I have never been too keen on regional pride. Maybe this little tirade made this a bit more obvious. We simply perform our jobs obediently and people hail us as heroes. It's like a badly written fairy tale."
> "Isn't it?" Almand leads you to the inn, a word to the inn keep and you're heading up the stairs, to the rooms. He seems to muse on this long seconds, as you head inside."
* Berlioz breathes heavily. "As I said, it's vaguely surreal."
> To the room you go, well kept and beautiful. It shows wealth and taste, Almand going to sit on the bed. "They'll call anyone that saves them a hero, who will sacrifice to prevent the catastrophes they bring on."
<Berlioz> "The masses are often desperate enough for that. It's... not particularly enticing, regardless. We're probably just pawns in some obscure game - and their players are pawns in another obscure game. And so on, and so on. It's not my place to complain or rebel. I just wish there wasn't the pointless catharsis", the bard softly replies, looking up to the ceiling.

This was Berlioz' last scene, or close to it. He left the game shortly thereafter. While it was for OOC and RL reasons, Almand was going to attempt to recruit him here. The synergy is quite good.

[Anastasia]

> OOC - Okay, if you're doing undeath hunting, what are you guys going to go do?
<Shamal> OOC: What Seira said - ask around the butcher's to see when he started acting weird and so on.
> OOC: Okay.
<Seira> OOC: He must have regulars, loyal customers or busybodies living nearby~
> So the three return to the butcher's shop. It's blocked off and silent, no one coming in or out of the accursed home. Next door is the Dawn Pointe Inn, other shops nearby as well. It's a cloudy, hazy, warm day, the spring moving in with it's force.
<Shamal> "He said he got a lot of business from the inn, so it's probably a good place to start?" Shamal surmises, privately hoping that they won't run into Febras, there...
* Seira nods in agreement, and walks into the inn, glancing around the premises.
* Lyselle nods, a hand resting on her longsword as she stays close behind Shamal. "Probably, though I'm not sure that sleepy inn keeper would notice even the ghouls..."
> Inside is the inn mistress as usual. She looks red faced but oh so tired, leaning against her desk. "Hmmm..." she murmurs, "Oh, the guard again."
<Seira> "Hello," Seira greets her. "You would not mind answering a few questions again, would you?"
> "Hm...? If you like," she murmurs quietly, suffocating another deep yawn into her hand. "Terrible business there, wasn't it?"
<Seira> "Indeed. You were one of the biggest customers, I take it?"
> "Every day." She smothers yet another yawn before leaning back, closing her eyes most way. "Sorry, sorry...I'm just so tired lately. But yes, I shopped there every day."
<Shamal> "Yes, terrible," Shamal echoes. "I don't suppose you noticed anything odd about that butcher in the days before, ah... what happened?" she asks delicately.
> "Po' old Greg. It t'was when he started putting on all that weight a month or so ago. Wasn't quite the same. Sorry, sorry," Yet another yawn, "Let me get some tea, if you mind?"
> Coming back in a few moments with a cup of tea and sipping from it, "Who would have thought? Right next door to here...oh, we get that silly furniture chopping man, a horde of rats, strange traders calling the guard and now this. Was it all because of him??
<Shamal> "Possibly... do you remember him keeping any strange company - or even just associating with people you hadn't seen before - when he started changing?" Shamal asks, clasping her hands before her as she talks.
<Seira> "Or slightly before that," Seira adds.
> "No, no...it's usually so quiet down here. You see the same faces day in and day out. Besides Sir Febras, there's no one remotely new. Unless you count your frequent visits?" She smiles placidly with that.
<Seira> "How about your own customers?" Seira asks the woman. "Has anyone come to stay at your inn over the period in question?"
> "Yes, it is an inn and we do business," The innkeeper remarks, smiling playfully. "I can show you my logbook?"
<Seira> "It would be appreciated, Ma'am," Seira tells her. "Would you also be able to tell us a bit about the butcher's other customers? Surely, from your frequent business there, you have had a chance to meet several of them."
* Lyselle just smiles, her magely companions rather better at interrogation than a simple noblewoman like herself. She looks intimidating and dangerous as usually, but not aimed anywhere near the innkeeper, yet.
> "I did. There's Sam, the bookbinder, Marla, a housewife, Karla, another housewife, Harnan, a barkeep..." So she ticks off as she goes and comes back with a simple, loosely binded book.
* Seira nods, perusing the records and committing them and the verbal list to memory before glancing at Shamal and Lyselle. "On to the next character witness, then?" she suggests.
<Shamal> "Perhaps we should look at his suppliers as well?" Shamal offers, "See if that leads anywhere."
> It's mostly forgettablenames, but a few you know - Donald, for example. "That I know of - he got animals every day at the marketplace."
> After another yawn, "...oh. Can I make a request of you?"
<Seira> "To purchase something if we keep on coming back?"
> "That would be preferred, but no. Sir Febras has mentioned all of you - he seems to think well of you. With what I hear, that's natural." A beaming smile to them a moment, "I believe that I'd be honored if you'd spend a dinner here on my hospitality."
<Shamal> "Maybe we can find time after our investigations..." Shamal manages noncommittally, not really having much fondness for the man.
<Seira> "I would be delighted to accept the invitation," Seira responds next, sounding interested.
* Lyselle just smiles, inclining her head a little. "We shall see how duty fares then," she adds, glancing from Shamal to Seira.
> "Until then," The innkeeper smiles as the party goes.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+1 aid another gather info
* Hatbot --> "Shamal rolls 1d20+1 aid another gather info and gets 21." [1d20=20]
<Lyselle> roll 1d20+2 let's give this a shot
* Hatbot --> "Lyselle rolls 1d20+2 let's give this a shot and gets 9." [1d20=7]
<Seira> roll 1d20+10 would be hilarious if I rolled lower
* Hatbot --> "Seira rolls 1d20+10 would be hilarious if I rolled lower and gets 15." [1d20=5]
> Seira gathers info about the butcher! Knowing names helps the cause quite a bit, so the difficulty is minimal. With the assistance of her two friends, they find out the following:
> Greg ran his butcher shop for a goodly time, but recently put on weight. (More)
> He soon decided to add curtains to the front of his shop as he did. It was quite odd, since he has a good sales display there made of real glass. (More)
> Gret was a bachelor and a good butcher. His meat was good at the end. You also find out from this merchant that he paid in coin every week, having a working relationship with several farmers. There were signs of friction near the end, as he wanted more meat.
<Seira> "Where there is friction, interesting tales may surface," Seira suggests. "Let's check out the suppliers of his meat, now?"
<Shamal> "We should check his accounts, if he kept any," Shamal muses. "Was he doing more business at the end, or was the extra meat wanted for something else?"
* Lyselle nods, rubbing her forehead. "And if he wasn't selling it...where did it go? Is it a part of the operations of whatever strange monster took him over?"
<Seira> "Did you ransack his house for clues?"
<Shamal> "Yes, we didn't find much that was pertinent, but we never properly examined his sales figures," Shamal replies. "Now those may have turned out to be pertinent after all."
<Seira> "Let's take a look, then, to be better prepared when we question the suppliers."
> OOC - Where are you heading now?
<Shamal> OOC: Butcher's!
<Seira> OOC: Check his books, and research the house in case there's something there that wasn't made apparent originally?
> So the party returns to the butcher's. The door is barred and locked, but this is easy to bypass for the guard. Inside, you go to search and check...but as you head inside, you notice the door leading to the butchery room is ajar.
* Shamal doesn't remember closing it anyway! Still, she takes a look around to make sure no one's inside right now.
<Seira> This is certainly cause to get her bow out, as far as Seira's concerned.
* Lyselle raises an eyebrow, doing her own look around and into the butchering room, a hand on her sword.
> Hum. The room's empty. Doesn't smell quite as bad, dark and barely lit. To be fair, there's a good part of the room that's cloaked in natural shadows due to this.
<Shamal> Light spell makes... oh, wait, she used that when searching for the hag earlier. "Got a light spell memorised, Seira?" Shamal asks the half-elf idly.
* Seira is already casting a light spell when Shamal speaks! Nodding at the druid, a ball of light appears at the tip of Seira's notched silver arrow, and she takes a look around the room.
<Seira> roll 1d20+3 spot
* Hatbot --> "Seira rolls 1d20+3 spot and gets 15." [1d20=12]
<Shamal> roll 1d20+10 spot for me too
* Hatbot --> "Shamal rolls 1d20+10 spot for me too and gets 14." [1d20=4]
<Lyselle> roll 1d20+1 spot
* Hatbot --> "Lyselle rolls 1d20+1 spot and gets 8." [1d20=7]
> "...hmph." The light does the work quite well and quite speedily, banishing the shadows. You catch sight of Febras in a corner, pulling down his wide brimmed hat, ring on his finger catching the light to reflect. "Damnable timing, you surprised me."
<Seira> "And you would have gotten away with it, if it weren't for us kids?" Seira quips.
<Shamal> "Well, well, well," Shamal drawls, eyeing Febras suspiciously. "We just seem to run into each other in the strangest places, don't we?"
* Lyselle lifts her eyebrows, sight locked onto Febras with a dark almost violently inclined suggestion in them. "Very strange places indeed..."
> "I keep myself busy with my own doings. We do seem to have a penchant for meeting." Pulling his hat down nearly as far as it will go, face entirely blocked, "As the air clears in this cursed place, I had hoped to find a clue on the cause of the undeath."
<Lyselle> "Isn't it considered polite to remove one's hat in the presence of ladies?" Lyselle challenges, having had just a bit too much of Febras and his security hat.
<Seira> "That makes two of us. Or, rather, four," Seira muses. "Still, it sadly remains fact that you are trespassing illegally, Mister Febras," she tells him. "I'm afraid we will have to take you in."
> "My apologies..." he begins, keeping his head low, "But I have business at another place that I must see to." Unconcerned, he begins to walk towards the rear door.
<Shamal> "It will have to wait," Shamal says, putting her foot down. "You will come with us to the garrison and then you can explain your presence at a crime scene."
> Shamal notices that he isn't stopping.
<Seira> A glowing silver arrow embeds itself in the doorframe. "I must insist that you come with us, Sir," Seira says.
* Lyselle draws Frozen Oath, starting to advance pointedly to enforce that declaration./
> "....hmph." Febras mutters, "What is it you intend to do, then?" He pauses, not going towards the door.
<Seira> "Law must be observed, from the smallest offense to the gravest," Seira informs the man. "Merely because we are acquainted does not allow you to break our laws."
> "The laws that still fail to protect the citizens against this menace?" Febras challenges aloud, gaze towards the door and away from the party.
<Seira> "The laws that contain within them the framework of civillian contractors," Seira counters. "It was but a simple thing to approach the Guard in general, or one of us personally, and get the necessary clearance."
<Shamal> "If you have information that could help, you could share it with the authorities," Shamal replies coldly, having had quite enough of Febras and his smart mouth. "This is not some frontier badland where vigilantes and adventurers can traipse around at will. We follow due process in this city."
> "I may. My skill in tracking is considerable, as your Lord Salman's health can attest to." Febras's choice descents into a chuckle, deep. "I have no interest into getting into a scrape with any of you. I'll even offer you a token of good will if you like. The energy that absorbs into objects when one of these cursed abominations dies?"
<Seira> "What of it?"
* Retrieving #dunes modes...
> "Obviously there is a greater source. The source is something that can craft or generate raw, stable magic into an adaptable form. Expertly shaped and manipuated power - there aren't many thigns that can do it. A God? A truly masterful wizard of the highest order...or some artifact that can do so. Your pool of possibilities is exceptionally small. Further, whomever had it would be nearly invincible with that power. Your sword there," A turn, a look to Lyselle, "Is a basic application to the power. What could a master do with it?"
> A turn, a look to Lyselle, "Is a basic application to the power. What could a master do with it? I'm here looking for that, since the source of it is using it for horrible ends."
<Shamal> "So you're saying that someone has a font of raw magic and is siphoning it to create the undead creatures we've encountered?" Shamal asks dubiously. Also, where did he find out about Frozen Oath and its origins?
* Lyselle just taps her sword against her boot, waiting out the talking magicians. "And if you knew this, why didn't you share it earlier?"
<Seira> "And do you believe these ghouls to be the creations of choice, or mere failures?" Seira adds her own question.
> "IT may be, or it may be it's nature if it's an artifact. That I cannot know until more is discovered." Febras admit that, eyes turning away. "I haven't shared it because while I stayed in this town, I was not sure if it was still here or going to act. I had no reason to play this card yet, it may have turned out to be...pointless.""
<Seira> "Thanks for the tip," Seira tells him. "You're still paying the fine, though."
> Snorting, Febras chuckles. "What I propose instead of that is information. I can help you, just that I have no need to be hindered by insignificant...hurdles such as this. Your city will be safer as I continue my hunt for the facts of this matter."
<Seira> "In that case, you'll have to tell us more before we can decide," Seira informs him firmly.
<Shamal> "Please confine your hunt to public property in future," Shamal requests, before glancing at Seira. "You know him best, so I'll go along with whatever you decide," she offers in quiet support.
* Seira nods at Shamal, before turning back towards Febras. "I'm listening."
> "Very well. I've spent my life learning about things like this. It's no accident I came to your city when I did." A dry, rasping chuckle. "I spent so much time away from the sun that it bothers my eyes now. I sincerely do not know for sure what the menance in Balmuria is; I haven't done or had the resources to do full research, and I fear it is only something a truly learned sage could find. I fear that one of the long distant evil gods may be coming into this realm. What else besides divinity could do things so freely? Magic is scarce as raindrops in the desert now. Regardless of the source..." FEbras trails off a moment, thinking. (More)
> I fear that one of the long distant evil gods may be coming into this realm. What else besides divinity could do things so freely? Magic is scarce as raindrops in the desert now. Regardless of the source..." FEbras trails off a moment, thinking. (More)
> "It's powerful, it can hide itself - for such magic would be like a nova if one detected for it, and it can be used for better purposes. That is what I know about, this rapier?" Drawing it carefully but pointing the tip downward, "Was crafted in a like manner. I have learned much about it...if you wish to listen."
<Shamal> "I'm listening," Shamal nods, curious in spite of herself.
> "For lack of a better term, I call it a Wild Dweomer. It's magic given power, but without any strongly defined form. It's alterable, so that the user can shape it freely. In reality, I suspect it's much like the underlying principal of magic casting, but on a far more direct scale. The power is provided, all that needs to be given is a full shape. Unlike magic, where the power is summoned by what gives it shape, hm?" Febras is thoughtful, voice long. "How exactly did you craft the magic?"
> Febras is thoughtful, voice long. "How exactly did you craft the magic?"
<Seira> "It sounds wasteful, but I suppose gods can afford to be," Seira muses, while letting Shamal field that one.
<Shamal> "I simply cast spells on the item with effects approaching the result I desired," the blonde replies. "I had originally sought to use spells with effects contrary to its black necromantic aura in order to neutralise it before applying further spells, but I now believe such to be unnecessary - those effects were immediately incorporated with no middle stage inbetween."
> "Yes. The magic is thirsty for form - before, what it infested gave it form, but it's nature or the nature of the object defined it. Casting spells on it when the previous vessel dies and it fades into a new one, now...It's art, but only as far as throwing colors onto the easel is art. You need a brush as well as paint."
* Shamal inclines her head. "I'll grant you that - I have no experience in creating permanent magic items, yet I have made a weapon that would take a considerably more powerful spellcaster to manage normally. With more knowledge of the process, even greater creations could be undertaken."
> Febras nods. "Yes, exactly. Further, I believe from my research that a dedicated wizard could even make something to control these sorts of magic more precisely. I'm no wizard, but I do have some old notes about it."
<Seira> "It would be interesting to glance at them," Seira muses. "What about this threat to our city, more specifically? Do you know more about it that you've kept to yourself, however insignificant?"
> "Not particularly," Febras admits quite calmly, starting to head for the back door. "Now then...let me get my notes for you."
<Seira> "Let me help," Seira offers, heading towards him.
> OOC - Okay, Seira and Febras are heading there. While they do in PM, let me know what you're searching for, blondes?
<Shamal> While Seira and Febras depart, Shamal takes a look for ledgers or account books belonging to the butcher!
* Lyselle follows along, taking a while to do a full search fo the place in general.
> With a bit of poking Shamal finds what she wishes. It's in his room, squirred away. She can read and see that his costs went up about fourfold in the last month - buying buying buying, even at an unsubstainable deficet. Meanwhile Lyselle takes her time, tossing the place in earnest. OOC - What's your total on taking 20, L-chan
<Lyselle> OOC - 21
<Lyselle> OOC - Er, 22, search, not spot.
* Shamal takes the ledger through to the butchery at the back and tries to compare the purchases vs sales with the inventory - was he stockpiling or was the meat going somewhere else?
> There's not that much meat around, relative to the purchase amounts. While there's a lot in the cutting room, his ledger indicates a fair bit more. Meanwhile, Lyselle doesn't find too much of note, beyond another wickedly nasty meat cleaver in the back.
<Shamal> "So... either he and the ghouls were eating all the excess meat - which is quite possible, considering we haven't heard of anyone being killed by ghouls lately, or the meat was going elsewhere... or they were making zombie cows." Shamal makes a face. "I'm inclined to go with the first option, honestly."
<Lyselle> "...One hopes so, yes," Lyselle agrees, making a definitely unhappy face at the variety of colorful thoughts and images offered to her by Shamal, things she definitely would've preffered to not think so much about.
<Shamal> "Yes, well," Shamal shrugs, "Not sure if it's much of a lead, to be honest. Let's wait on Seira and her friend coming back?"
* Lyselle nods, leaning against one of the walls. "The whole thing seems basically self-sufficient, so it can't really lead us anywhere."
<Shamal> "I might just have to scribe the Detect Undead spell and try to cover as much ground to see if we can get any leads that way," the blonde offers, not having any other ideas at the moment.
* Lyselle nods, frowning a little, but not seeing much additional work that can be done. "We can hope for that, but...yes, it jsut seems like things are a bit too well hidden right now."

[Anastasia]

This snippet doesn't really fit anywhere else. The next bit of this is going to be a lot of odds and ends, as the topic implies. I think I have it in order, apologies if I screwed up.

> So Febras leads Seira into the sunlight, pulling his hat down as they do, out towards the Dawn Pointe Inn. "Hmph," he murmurs softly, "I find that your dedication to your city is stronger than I expected."
<Seira> "Why is that?" she asks curiously.
> "I believed that you wouldn't go to that level," Febras notes in dry amusement, stopping at the front door. "There's  simply little point in playing a hand that isn't neede dyet, and I thought I wouldn't need it yet."
<Seira> "There is no need for all this intrigue between allies," Seira tells Febras with a shrug. "If you know more, then by all means, do tell me."
> "I don't. I simply was...surprised." Febras leaves it at that, as you head inside. The innkeep is there, drinking tea and looking tired. "Good afternoon," she smiles to the both of you.
<Seira> "Hello again," Seira greets her with a nod. Once they are out of hearing range, she asks, "How about this butcher? Can you tell me anything about him? Unusual people meeting him over the time he acted strangely, perhaps?"
> "To be honest, I had barely paid any mind to him." Febras clicks his tongue in his mouth, heading up the stairs. It's quiet here, a few plants and sunlight coming in from the far second story window. "My embarrassment makes the point that whatever this is can hide itself quite well when it wishes to."
* Seira nods again, at Febras this time. "You made your sword under similar circumstances, you said," she mentions. "Could you elaborate?"
> Going down the hall, Febras stops at his door. "If you like. I had pursued an unusually tenacious rumor about a skeletal creature. It was an ancient giant's skeleton possesed when I finally tracked it down. It was a long battle, my weapons were barely effective. After expending all my options, I was able to finish it off with my rapier at last, and the energy was absorbed into my weapon."
<Seira> "Intriguing," she comments. "And brave. How was the energy shaped into your sword's specific enchantment?"
> "My traveling companion at the time was a magic user of some skill. He was able to discern the nature of the weapon and meld it into it's current form. From there, my research into it based on what he told me took shape." Febras goes into the room, opening it. It's rather spartan, unchanged, and with a chair in front of a sundrenched window. "Just a moment."
<Seira> "Sure," she agrees, waiting idly while leaning on the doorframe. "So... giants, huh? Met any other races on your travels?"
> He goes to a dresser, searching it a moment before a rolled up scroll is taken out. "Many things. Such is an adventurer's life." Febras tugs his hat down as he starts to walk back, glancing Seira's way. "Dwarves, for example. Such a distrust of the surface world they have."
<Seira> "They're not the only ones," she says, agreeing once more. "All legends of races once living underground tend to share this feature."
> "Indeed," Febras muses a moment, "The legend of gnomes, for example. Or even those that live above the ground, like elves..."
<Seira> "I'll have you know that quite a lot of elves go against the stereotype," Seira tells him. "Gnomes, on the other hand... from what I've read about them, they were as nasty as they come."
> "...heh." Febras glances at Seira, smirking a little bit. "Really?"
<Seira> "Absolutely," she tells him firmly, returning the gaze. "This one elf, for example. He was a mage, the best of his generation, and his name was Saul. He was in fact quite outgoing and strove to help those in his path, regardless of race. Except for the bad people, of course." As she speaks, she searches for any reaction or signs of recognition of the name.
> "Heh," Febras yanks his hat down further, shadows hiding his face. "Do you wish for a nibble on that bait?"
* Seira smiles brightly. "Yes. Please."
> "Hah, hah, hah," Febras laughs at that, shoulders shaking. "Fine. It is a name that sounds familiar, perhaps I heard it somewhere, perhaps I did not. This person matters to you?"
<Seira> "At times, I wonder," she says peevishly. Then, she deflates. "If you happen to remember anything...."
> "Of course. Family? A friend?" Inquiring that as he eyes Seira, "You are not unknown of magic yourself. An old tutor?" AT that amusement, "If I do, I will, but I fear his path and mine are two that have not crossed in any seriousness."
* Seira mutters something unintelligible, making the rest of the trip back to the butchery in silence.

[Anastasia]

> A day passes in rest and study. Shamal and Seira both mind their own tasks and business, nothing of note occuring. The next day is rainswept and windy, summons coming early in the morning. As the two arrive at Commander Oberuth's meeting room, they find him looking irritated and upset, his flushed demeanor dark. "SIt down," he says, voice showing his irritation, quick.
* Seira sits down.
<Shamal> "Sir?" Shamal asks worriedly, nonetheless sitting next to Seira.
> As the two sit down, Commander Oberuth takes out a scroll. "This was given to Biggs and Wedge this morning. Berlioz asked them to bring it to us a half hour after he left the gates." His face is a cloud, but he takes a long breath in and out. "In his words, he's chosen to return to Malmuth to take a position there effective immediately. He wishes you well, Shamal, and Seira?" Commander Oberuth pauses at this a long moment, looking at the elf. "...no, some things are best left unsaid."
<Seira> "Yes, Sir?
* Shamal twitches. "He what?" she chokes out in surprise.
> "...no, some things are best left unsaid." Commander Oberuth shakes his head away, "He proves snarky until the end. Count Almand appears to have scored a fleeing victory as he returned to Malmuth."
<Seira> "I have no plans of returning to Pallanth, Sir," Seira comments, otherwise retaining a neutral expression.
* Shamal looks somewhat distraught at all this, nonetheless remaining silent to hear Obureth's conclusions on the matter.
> "There is little we can do about it but move on," he concludes, shaking his head. "Sadly, Malmuth won that battle...I had thought Berlioz had more gumption, but..." He lets it go, pausing a moment. "Further, matters are not done yet. There is a matter involving Lyselle."
<Shamal> "Lyselle?" Shamal repeats weakly, hoping it's not more bad news. Her absence implies something, anyway...
> "Armasea's interum ruler is dead, and factions are splitting as it appears to be murder. Lord Salman sent instructions requesting her to go with his blessing sto stabilize the difficult situation." A long breath blown out, "Fortune comes and goes, but this one is abnormally foul."
<Shamal> "When does she leave?" Shamal asks, shocked at losing two of their number so suddenly. Especially considering Berlioz's circumstances...
> "She's left with the dawn." A shake of his head, "Perhaps you can go visit her in time, but for now..." Commander Oberuth just shakes his head again. As this happens, there is a knock on the door, a page entering. "Sir..." he begins. "A message for you and Captain Velka."
* Shamal stands up to turn towards the page, hoping she isn't going to be suddenly called away on a new assignment to completely dismember the crimson guard.
> The page waits for the Commander to nod, then, "There is a Thaeos Velka who is asking to see Captain Velka."
<Shamal> "Father?" Shamal looks surprised, before turning to the commander, "With your permission, sir?"
> "Go ahead, you as well if you wish," A nod to Seira. "Take the day off, there's enough going on now."
<Shamal> "Thank you, sir," Shamal nods before heading over to the page. "Where is he?"
* Seira returns the nod. "In that case, Sir, I have dinner plans."
> "Very well," Oberuth nods, "Dimissed."
> "Waiting at the sparring grounds. He's quite travel weary, Sir," the page bows to Shamal.
* Seira salutes him, and leaves after saying goodbye to Shamal.
<Shamal> "I'll see you later, Seira," Shamal waves to the half-elf, before she hurries to the sparring grounds to meet her foster father.
> So Shamal heads along. The sparring grounds are drizzly, where she sees him. He waits outside, a tattered brown cloak hiding most of his features. But the old bow and quiver of arrows on his back say it all, heavy boots scuffed and mudstained. You can see him waiting patiently, the patience of a woodsman, indifferent in it's devotion to waiting.
* Shamal dons her hat as she steps outside to keep some of the rain off and hurries over. "Father! It's good to see you!" she beams warmly, stopping just in front of Thaeos.
> He pushes his hood back, the face only a daughter could and does love smiling. "Aye, Shamal! Well met!" He grins from ear to ear, "The two at the gate tripped over themselves over someone wanting to see the high and mighty Captain Velka!"
<Shamal> "I've been lucky to be in the right place at the right time to impress my superiors," the blonde replies demurely. "I never expected to reach Captain so soon, I can tell you that."
> "All the Gods must be pushing you in the right direction! I've only been out of town a few months and you've rocketed up." Just smiling now as he clasps her shoulder, "Is there a place a tired old man can get a warm mug of cider? The weather's rainy this spring."
<Shamal> "Of course, I'll treat you - I've got more money than I know what to do with, nowadays, to be honest," Shamal responds, sounding a bit embarrassed. "How about we stop in at Liberty Point and we can trade stories?"
> "You are moving up!" Thaeos grins from ear to ear again, pulling his hood back up. "Lead the way?"
* Shamal whistles for Laika to come follow her from where she's been sitting under the covered walkway next to the training area. "Come on girl! This is my father, Thaeos, so say hello?" she encourages, prompting an enthusiastic bark from the husky as she races over to join the pair.
> "...A new one," he asks after a moment, kneeling next to Laika and ruffling the fur atop her head.
* Shamal looks down at that. "Yes... Rin was taken from me last month," she nods slowly. "Dire Bear's are not to be trifled with."
<Shamal> Bears*
> Finishing up with some dog petting and standing, "...aye, they aren't," he says solemnly. "There are things best not to be trifiled with in this world, lots of them." On that note he begins to walk, the rain falling. "Let's continue this out of the rain, at least?"
<Shamal> "Of course," Shamal takes a deep breath to centre herself before following her foster father. "Just a short walk and we can have something warm to drink."
> So indeed. The Liberty Point is full today, people seeking solace You get a seat next to the fireplace, warmth filling your bones. The tink of mugs is heard as Thaeos takes his drink, "To Rin," he says plainly, a swallow taken.
* Shamal raises her glass to that. "Yes... a more loyal and brave companion no one could ever ask for," she toasts to Rin's memory.
> "Cheers and memories," Thaeos drinks deeply and puts his mug down, pausing. "Memories is why I left on my journey. Do you still remember much of your distant times, before we met?"
> The inn buzzes around you. People chat here, overheard tales. Of giant tigers rampaging, of hidden horrors of perverted flesh. Of Malmuth below, of chaotic ruins nearby. Of a few heroes in the center of it, standing tall and proud.
<Shamal> "Some," Shamal replies, idly swirling her own drink as her eyes adopt a far away cast, the blonde's thoughts turning inwards. "I remember serving Master Dagoren... I think my earliest memory is looking through his spellbook, looking at the pictures and patterns since I couldn't read back then. It took him a while to get around to teaching me to read," she smiles wryly.
> "...mmm, yes." The old woodsman agrees at that, "What do you remember of his tower?"
> "...mmm, yes." The old woodsman agrees at that, "What do you remember of his tower?"
* Shamal frowns darkly. "It was very, very hard to keep clean," she mutters, before smiling as a thought strikes her, "I think it would be a fairly classic adventurer's dungeon, considering all the traps he filled it with, though! He always said if I couldn't remember where the exploding floor tiles and scythe blades were, then I could never be expected to remember any spells."
> Thaeos face darkens, "I noticed," he says, quite dry. "I suppose that confirms that it's what's left of Dagoren's tower. Bastard."
> Thaeos face darkens, "I noticed," he says, quite dry. "I suppose that confirms that it's what's left of Dagoren's tower. Bastard."
<Shamal> "You found it?" Shamal asks in surprise, having never felt the need to divulge it's location to anyone before. "What were you doing, there?"
> "Searching," Finishing off his drink and putting it aside, "Someone or a group of people went to town on it. The upper levels have collapsed and only the first two are partially intact. If it was just that, there wouldn't be much of note to begin with."
<Shamal> "Yes, there was quite a battle... never did find out who his enemies were, to be honest," Shamal shrugs. "What about the basement? He excavated quite a bit underground as well."
> "You knew about it?" Thaeos quirks his head, before laughing. "I don't know what he was onto, but at the bottom, past what looks to have been a wicked scytheblade trap, there's a steel  door that I couldn't get open. There were also a few decaying skeletons outside of it." A shrug, another mug waved for. "Two humans and what might've been a goblin or a dwarf? A small creatuer."
* Shamal makes a face. "He sometimes experimented on goblins..."
> "I don't know what it was, but..." GEtting his next drink and downing it, "I thought you'd want to know."
<Shamal> "Hmm... I've sometimes considered going back, but... I always assumed it would be pointless. No doubt the place was picked clean by the people who killed Master Dagoren. Or scavangers that came afterwards."
> "Indeed." Pausing as he drinks, "You do have your duties. Speaking of, how go they, beyond the promotions?"
* Shamal holds up a hand. "I will admit, your mention of an unopenable door does intrigue me - I might try and find time to look into it. But for now, yes... Balmuria calls and I answer." She sighs softly, reaching again for her drink, "It doesn't help that two of my unit have departed us, today, though..."
> "Yes, it intrigues me as well. The point of mentioning it. "You should go and get your mind off of it for al ittle while, then, since you look so unhappy, aye."
<Shamal> "I doubt a request for leave would be looked upon favourably, in our current circumstances," Shamal admits, taking a sip of her wine. "Hopefully it will still be there when the Crimson Guard can spare my services for a time."

[Anastasia]

> "I suppose, and in some ways just as well. I heard what happened to Lord Salman..." A glare at nothing in particular, as meanwhile a bard enters. The tale of Kangap and Goldan the red and golden dragons is told in the background, a few drinkers paying attention, but not many.
* Shamal nods sollemnly. "We were very lucky that Gilartal was nearby and had a spell to prepared to neutralise the poison, otherwise we'd be looking for a new Lord Protector. Even with that, it was a close thing."
> Tipping his glass back and nodding, "I..." Thaeos begins, as a few guardsmen enter. "What Gods they are watch over us," he allows, as the guardsmen quite obviously come towards Shamal.
<Shamal> Seeing her approaching colleagues, Shamal gets up to face them, wondering what they want.
> The two guards are normal and they salute. "Sir, the Captain of the Guard wishes to inform you that a Sir Mihai has sent inquiries about goods of his you hold."
<Shamal> "Oh, he's returned, has he?" Shamal nods. "Excellent, I'll stop by his residence shortly to discuss the matter. Thank you for letting me know."
> The guards nod and slip away, letting the matter be. Thaeos watches them a moment, and once they depart earshot, "Sir Velka, eh?"
<Shamal> "Only to members of the guard - I'm still far from nobility," Shamal smiles easily as she sinks back into her chair. "Hmm... I'll be curious to hear why Mihail felt the need to have a live Dire Tiger brought into the city, I must say."
> Your adopted father just shrugs, "Man must not have much sense to."
> Your adopted father just shrugs, "Man must not have much sense to."
<Shamal> "I suppose I'll find out soon enough... but nevermind him," she waves the matter aside, "What about your own travels? You can't have spent that long just finding Master Dagoren's old tower - got any other stories to tell?"
> "A few. Let's see..." Stroking his chin, "Oh, that old tale of Kangap and Goldan. It's popular again. Dragons..." Thaeos frowns as he thinks, "I've heard about Lord Salman, about zombies in Balmuria but the 'noble and brave' Crimson Guard stopping them. I've heard Parsifal is completely quiet, except for the Barons there making money hand over fist. I heard something from a traveller. Ever heard of a paladin? He swore there's one that's been around lately."
> "A few. Let's see..." Stroking his chin, "Oh, that old tale of Kangap and Goldan. It's popular again. Dragons..." Thaeos frowns as he thinks, "I've heard about Lord Salman, about zombies in Balmuria but the 'noble and brave' Crimson Guard stopping them. I've heard Parsifal is completely quiet, except for the Barons there making money hand over fist. I heard something from a traveller. Ever heard of a paladin? He swore there's one that's been around lately."
> He swore there's one that's been around lately."
<Shamal> "Wasn't called Donald by any chance, was he?" Shamal asks curiously. "That's the name of a particularly zealous citizen that helped us with the first outbreak of undead - he didn't seem to be truly blessed by the heavens, despite his fervour, however."
> "Might've been. HIs name started with a D...but...no. Demi something." Swliring his glass around, "He's visting temple in Malmuth. The traveller was someone who had gone there to visit family and managed to get in. Didn't much like it there, though, not now."
> "Might've been. HIs name started with a D...but...no. Demi something." Swliring his glass around, "He's visting temple in Malmuth. The traveller was someone who had gone there to visit family and managed to get in. Didn't much like it there, though, not now."
<Shamal> "Doesn't sound familiar to me," the blonde admits with a shake of her head. "So what's different about Malmuth now, then?" she asks, siezing on the last point and thinking of Berlioz.
> "It's closed. Not just the borders, the insides. The crown's really throwing around it's authority since King Ferdi came to the throne. After they lost the war, I suppose it makes sense. They got beaten militarily by a much smaller power." Thaeos grins at that, ear to ear "Showed them that they're barely any good."
* Shamal grins back, recalling her foster father's many tales of the war from when she was younger. "They still know how to cause trouble here and there, mind you," she cautions. Darn that Berlioz...
> "Yep, except we're trading with them now. If it was me, I'd tell 'em to go hang." A light, easy shrug at that, the grin kept right on his face. "Lord Salman knows best, and money talks."
<Shamal> "I suppose that's why he's in charge," Shamal raises her glass. "So, think you'll stick around for a while, now, or are you already planning your next journey?"
> "Oh, I'm not sure. I want to go home for a few days at least." A light little shrug at that, a yawn as he pushes his glass away. "That's enough for me, I want to walk home today. There's been a lot of talk lately about treasure this and hidden things that. All sorts of things, from stuff I can believe, like goblin stashes, to just flights of fancy. A room in Malmuth filled with diamonds and hidden? A lost hall full of adamantine and creations? A statue made of pure platinum, sitting at the base of a waterfall? If those existed, someone would've cashed in by now."
> creations? A statue made of pure platinum, sitting at the base of a waterfall? If those existed, someone would've cashed in by now." Stretching back, "So if I go out again, no matter what it is, I want to be prepared."
<Shamal> "Well, you'd be surprised what can lay hidden for a long time in the wilds or underground - just recently my colleagues and I found an underground fortress built by the ancient gnomes. No platinum statues or romms filled with diamonds, but we still found a few valuables of note as well as historical curiousities."
> "Eh? Guess so," Thaeos grins back at you, "That why you're saying you're so well heeled now?"
<Shamal> "That's a big part of it," Shamal nods brightly. "Lord Salman also saw fit to be very generous after we saved his life. Good thing too, though..." she sighs a bit, "Magic costs an absolute fortune."
> "Still, how much are you worth now?" Thaeos pokes out, curious. "500 gold? 700? 1000?"
* Shamal coughs delicately. "I'd rather not discuss it so openly, but let's just say I'm very comfortable even without needing to sell any of the artifacts I own. So if you ever find yourself a bit short, don't be afraid to ask?"
> "...my." Thaeos grins before reaching out, clapping your shoulder. "Little Shamal's going to end up being a big, important, rich landowner in time."
* Shamal smiles weakly. "I'm happy enough with my house as it is... but it makes me realise I shouldn't complain about the price of magic, for I'd have no idea what to do with my money otherwise."
> "Well then, to magic?" Thaeos just grins, as he rises. "Also, to finally getting home and resting away the weariness fo the road."
<Shamal> "To home... and family," Shamal echoes, raising her glass before finishing it off and rising. "I suppose I'd better go and speak to Mihail about his cat..." Leaning in, she hugs Thaeos, "Don't be a stranger, you," she adds warmly.
> "Don't get yourself turned into a toad with maaagick," he pats your back, "Take care."
<Shamal> "You too," Shamal waves to her father, before she and Laika depart to Mihail's abode.
> It's a trip in the drizzling rain. You find it to be a curious place - a recessed building, long and flat. It's layered like a cake, three stories of plain black. It seems too deep for it's depth, giving you headache to look at. It takes up most of this street, no neighbors, only a short lawn and black iron gate.
* Shamal idly rubs her temples a moment before she goes to open the gate. Not like she can complain - her own house, for all that it's smaller and more humble, still clearly shows the influence of magic in its construction as well. Putting such thoughts aside, she marches up to the front door and gives it a brief knock.
> The knock is plain and quiet, little noise. But the door opens, a faint figure there. A figure of shimmering force, wordless. It holds up a tiny sign, words carefully printed on. "State your business to the servant."
<Shamal> Oh, really now. That's just showing off! Masking her pique (not at all fueled by jealousy!), Shamal speaks clearly and plainly to the not-quite-unseen servant. "I am Captain Velka of the Crimson Guard. I wish to discuss the Dire Tiger that was recently brought into Balmuria."
> The servant stays there, holding the sign. In a few moments it steps back, someone coming down the hall. He wears a rich doublet and trousers, clad in green and yellow. It's a strange look, but the man here has a small, scraggy beard and dimmed eyes. Nonetheless, he nods, "Captain Velka, where's my tiger?"
<Shamal> "It's out in the forest where it won't eat the citizenry," the blonde replies primly. "If I may ask, Sir Mihail, for what purpose did you have such a dangerous animal - an untrained one, I hasten to add - delivered into the city?"
> Waving his hand and muttering a word that has no letters in it, the servant quickly scurries away. His hair is dark, faces howing tired irritation. "Beautiful thing, that," he glances as it goes, "Except for protection."
<Shamal> "Yes, well, I'm not sure how well it would protect you from an enraged dire tiger, I have to admit," Shamal returns with a neutral expression, waiting on her explanation.
> "No, no. You see, that's what I want it for. With magic and time, I can make it a lovely pet and protector. Cats are wonderful creatures - intelligent for an animal, aloof, powerful, confident. A perfect bodyguard. You see, Captain Velka, a dire tiger is a superb specimen - as yourself should know?"
* Shamal nods, allowing herself a smile. "Indeed, I admit to have grown rather fond of him in the last few days - not knowing when you were going to return, I've taken it on myself to begin training him so he would not be a menace to the citizenry. I prefer canines, honestly," she glances down at Laika, "But Khan has shown himself to be perfectly trainable."
> "...dogs," Mihail snorts derisively, "I prefer something that does not need a pack of like creatures that insist on sniffing it's nether regions as a protector. Good."
* Shamal sighs. So much for common interest... "Anyway, you'll forgive me for wanting to ensure that your enormous pet tiger doesn't run wild and necessitate an ugly cleanup on the part of my colleagues and I. Therefore, would you mind enlightening me on how you plan to domesticate the tiger? And have you had any experience with similar animals in the past?"
> "Training and magic. A simple combination - I'm sure you're familiar with it?" he asks, "From the stories told about you, it's not hard to figure what you are." Squinting at Shamal, "You know a fair bit about them, eh?"
<Shamal> "There aren't many other people that could have gotten an enraged dire tiger out of the city without it killing a few people on its way," Shamal replies, perhaps immodest but also truthful as far as she knows. "Still, I've not heard of arcane magic having much use in dealing with animals in this manner - you have done this sort of thing before, right?"
> "On a lesser scale, hm?" Quirking his head to the side, thinking, "I have my means and my ways. So do you. We are both competent enough to do this in our magics." Standing up straight, "I would not have gotten one here if my techquince was suspect."
* Shamal nods slowly. "Tell me, do you travel around a lot? Is that why you want the tiger - for protection and companionship on the road? Or is there something here in the city that you feel necessitates the need for a live-in apex predator?"
> "Home. Don't you take protections?" A frank look to Shamal, "A wizard's home is ripe for plucking. If they'll go after Lord Salman, they'll go after anyone."
<Shamal> "I prefer my defences to be a little bit more subtle... the reason I ask, however, is that an animal like a Dire Tiger requires a great deal of exercise, lest it become bored and act out in a destructive manner. And it's not the sort of creature you can take for a healthy stroll around the block without panicking half the city," she sighs and shakes her head, "Believe me, I know all about that."
> A chuckle at that, "I assure you that it's needs will be taken care of."
<Shamal> "Please, Sir Mihail, there's no need to be coy," Shamal requests. "I do not wish to pry into your trade secrets or anything like that, but we must be reassured that the tiger will not be a danger to the citizenry before we will sanction its existence within the city walls."
> "It will be," he states, quite calmly. "If need be making it invisible will make taking it out a simple matter."
<Shamal> "This is true," the blonde nods, considering. "I mentioned before that I was training him - a little more reinforcement is required, but I am confident that within a few more days he will have learned to immediately respond to a command to stop attacking - I considered this the most important thing to teach before anything else."
<Shamal> "Once I am satisfied this is fully ingrained, I will take you to meet the tiger outside the city - if you can demonstrate a sound ability to keep Khan under control and bring him back to your home without any incidents or assistance from myself, I will personally sanction your right to keep him within the city. Is this agreeable?"
> "Alright," Mihail agrees, "How long?"
<Shamal> "Three days... four at most," Shamal assures him. "I have other things I need to take care of, so it would please me to have this matter resolved promptly." Taking off her hat, she briefly bows before replacing it on her head. "Good day to you, Sir Mihail."

[Anastasia]

> Out to the quiet glade where Khan hunts. The tiger is resting there, disturbingly little left of a large buck deer as you find the noble animal. He waits, cat slitted eyes appraising SHamal coolly.
> The morning is crisp and quiet, the training having passed. Mihail soon awaits, ready to receive his tiger.
* Shamal approaches Khan respectfully but without fear, gently petting his head and scratching behind his ear as she recites a prayer to Mielikki, performing the long process of the Train Animal spell, teaching him the tricks Heel and Stay to go along with the Down trick she has spent the last week training him in. For the next five hours, anyway.
> Khan obeys as the magic takes hold, looming of Shamal yet not posing any direct danger to her.
> *over
<Shamal> "Good boy..." the witch croons, casting another spell now to shrink the cat down to a more managable size for the next five hours, hopefully enough time to get back to Mihail's residence, assuming the wizard doesn't screw things up.
> OOC - How small?
<Shamal> OOC: one size category down
> Khan shrinks! The cat looks around in mild confusion, eyeing a much larger to him Shamal warily.
<Shamal> "It's alright, you're still fearsome enough," Shamal pets him, before whistling for the wolfpack to come join them and instructing Khan to "Heel!" as she goes to meet Mihail at the edge of the grove for the handover.
<Shamal> OOC: I'll take 10 on the handle animal for autopass checks unless we're in danger and I can't do so
> AS the wolves warily eye the not so giant cat, light filters through the grove. It's really a pretty place, forgotten by most of Balmuria. Mihail waits just outside, wearing a wrapping white cloak that billows.
* Shamal stops about forty feet or so from Mihail. "I've shrunk him temporarily - it will last long enough to return to Balmuria. Now I leave things to you." With that, she casts Hide from Animals on herself after ordering Laika and the wolves to follow Khan. Now to see if Mihail can control Khan without her calming influence present.
> Mihail nods curtly, heading into the grove. As he approaches, the wizard stops in his tracks. He eyes the shrunken cat, smiling. He begins tos peak in a soothing voice, words of magic. "Great champion of the jungle...come. Come to me. Come. Come. " Simple words, but once laced with power. As he speaks, he takes out a little replica of a tiger, a clay sclupture he let fall to the ground.
* Shamal is content mostly to watch, although she does pay close attention to the magic being cast.
<Shamal> roll 1d20+13 spellcraft
> OOC - Spellcheck.
> OOC - Spellcraft, I suck.
* Hatbot --> "Shamal rolls 1d20+13 spellcraft and gets 14." [1d20=1]
-> [Hatbot] PING
> Shamal can't make heads or tails of it, but...
> roll 1d20+6
* Hatbot --> "Kotono rolls 1d20+6 and gets 16." [1d20=10]
> As he chants, the clay figurine melts into a strange gummy goo, fading into the earth. But Khan looks almost helpless a moment, head cocked to the side. BUt there after, he sits on his haunches, watching Mihail as the wizard slowly approaches.
* Shamal does so hope this won't end messily...
> The tiger stays where it is, Mihail slowly nodding. He approaches, starting to stroke the feline's head. It looks happy and contented! "Good, good. Good." He soothes, "Now we'll take the time to get to know each other away from your basic instincts. You've met one human that treats you well, there are others as well." Khan looks agreeable to all this, pleasant and as harmless as a house cat.
<Shamal> While Shamal can't help but think it's a bit demeaning to turn Khan into a housepet, at least Mihail does seem to know what he's doing. Maybe this will turn out okay after all... Even though she can talk freely without Khan being aware of her presence thanks to the spell, she still remains silent so as not to interrupt Mihail's work.
> Mihail turns and begins to walk, looking at Shamal. "Invisbility will cover the last leg when we approach the gates of the city. Do you wish to come along?"
<Shamal> "I'm heading back that way anyway," Shamal smiles in reply, walking along with Mihail and their menagarie. "Interesting spell there. Where'd you pick it up?"
> "I modified one to include a focus to increase it's effect," Mihail idly strokes Khan's head as you walk, the shrunken cat seeming to be content. "Useful for specific cases where you can be prepared."
<Shamal> "What was the base spell? Charm monster? I admit I didn't recognise much of it," Shamal confesses, casting an eye back to make sure Laika and the wolves are following.
> "Yes. It's a difficult spell, but I've learned it well enough to modify it." The wolves are following, a cautious eye on the tiger. "An expensive one time focus greatly weakens the will of the targetted creature."
* Shamal nods. "A useful contrivance, since dire animals are especially willful - I recently had reason to attempt a Charm Animal spell on a dire bear, but it was easily able to resist."
> "I had feared this fate, so the investment of time and money was well spent. Interested?" Mihail considers after a moment, eyeing SHamal.
<Shamal> "I wouldn't mind having a look over your notes," the blonde admits thoughtfully, tapping a finger to her chin as she strolls along. "I can't cast arcane magic at that high a level, but there are divine spells more appropriate for dealing with animals anyway. Its possible that a similar focus might be incorporated if I understood the methodology better."
> "Hmm..." Mihail bows his head a moment, "Very well. I won't even charge you, I'll call a favor in good faith."
* Shamal chuckles merrily. "You underestimate how much difficulty you'd have in owning a dire tiger in the city without my good graces - my reputation is now firmly staked on yours and Khan's behaviour."
> "Well then," Grousing a moment, "Between your exploits and my control, you have nothing to worry about."

I can't find the last segment of this. If I do or it's later ahead than I thought, I'll paste it in or make a note in the logs.

[Anastasia]

> The rain continues to drizzle and trickle down around noon. Seira goes to Luna De Stronger, the magical shop. Inside a liveried servant is talking to Countess Stronger, as the latter idly eats strawberries and kicks back on a chair. "Yes, yes," she is overheard saying, "Tell your madam that magic isn't cheap, nor is to to be taken lightly. If she thinks she may have the gift for magic, tell her to think good and well about it." A fiery snort as she waves a handa way, "Or you'll end up in the Guard or army, away from your cushioned estate."
>  A fiery snort as she waves a handa way, "Or you'll end up in the Guard or army, away from your cushioned estate."
<Seira> "Serving in the Guard is most fulfilling," Seira comments, approaching the woman. "Hello, Countess."
> The servant scoffs at those words, but nods respectfully to Seira. "I'll convey your words," she says, before bowing and turning away.
> Countess Stronger rises, "Good tos ee you," she says as the servant exits out, "Here for lessons today?"
* Seira dips her head briefly. "I consider myself stronger now, magically, albeit nowhere near the level of a serious mage. Enough to learn what you would teach me without the efforts being wasted, however, I believe."
> "Good, good. Should I teach you how to turn your enemies into flies, or to burn them alive," With a lazy stretch back, Countess Stronger cracks an eye open. "Do you have a preference on anything?"
<Seira> "My first priority would be magic to compliments my other talents," Seira responds instantly, having given it thought previously. "Either at interrogation or by concealing my presence. I have already made some small inroads into these fields," she says, detailing the spells she had learned recently.
> "Invisibility is really the best one of the lot," she agrees somberly. "A normal person can do almost nothing agaisnt it - only a seasoned warrior or mage can counter it effectively. I suppose it depends on how you want to conceal yourself."
<Seira> "Passing through an area without leaving a trace, or concealing such a trace," Seira muses. "Confounding the senses of those standing guard without alerting them to danger. Hiding within a myriad of afterimages, forcing my opponents to waste time to seek out the real one, should I be discovered." She shrugs, then. "And as preparation is also an important part in the missions that demand such skills, a better control over Divination would
<Seira> a better control over Divination would aid greatly as well."
> "Mirror Image, Pass without Trace and...mmm." Nodding to herself as she listens, "Go take a look in the scrolls a moment while I go check something," Stronger asks, rising and dusting off her skirt.
* Seira nods, and goes to take a look as requested.
> As Seira looks, Countess Stronger searches fora  few. She comes out with a few scrolls, whistling to herself. "Seira," shea sks, peering over. "Which one are you looking at?"
* Seira points out the scroll of Spectral Hand, admiring it. "Quite a spell, I must say. It may not seem much at a first glance, but the possibilities held within...."
> "Indeed, indeed," Plucking it up and passing it over, "It's worth studying, don't you think?"
<Seira> "Of course."
> "Now then, since you're doing so well - are all the rumors true?" Countess Stronger asks after Seira responds. "I hear a lot coming from all of you these days."
<Seira> "Which rumors in particular?" she asks curiously. "It always entertains to hear some of the more outlandish ones."
> "Let's see...the one with the demon tiger - I'll lay money that the other resident wizard is up to his eyes in that. More horrors, flying, wall climbing guardsman, invisible guardians, all of that. It's not just one rumor, and I imagine some of them are even true."
<Seira> "Probably," Seira allows. "None of these really involved me, I'm afraid, even if the events took place as the rumors claim, by chance. Except for the... demon tiger, was it?"
> "Mmmhmm. A tiger from the sounds of it, most of the rumors wouldn't know a tiger if it bit them." Stronger casts her head back and laughs ab it, "I declare, I reckon it to be a dire tiger or even just a normal one, butit's the most widespread 'rumor', an dI suspect it to be true."
> "Considering no fatalities or injuries, it was some sort of tiger that Shamal had under influence?" Stronger considers after just a moment more. "That's the only thing that makes sense.
> "
<Seira> "There was an incident in a taxidermy shop where some incorporeal presence was able to animate a long-dead animal," Seira muses out loud. "It felt similar to something we encountered before while going after that bear. At the time, a certain item was left behind." She briefly details what she had found back in the forest. "Strangely enough, nothing similar could be found at the more recent scene."
> "Strange." Countess Stronger agrees, "I don't know if they're related, but 'those hero guards' were mentioned. That narrows down the field a lot, so if you weren't there, why don't you ask one of them yourself?"
<Seira> "It's worth a try," Seira agrees.
> "As for that?" Frowning as she thinks a moment, "Some sort of ghost? Do you still have that object?"
<Seira> "No, but I could draw a reasonable approximation, and it had no aura of magic about itself. Perhaps, though, that was due to me breaking it to cancel the effect it was having on everyone around it."
> "Could be, let me see it?" Stronger goes back to sitting, "It may have been a vessel or something of importance to it, or a focus. Odds are that if it was broken then it's not of much use, especially if the driving force behind it was subdued or dispelle.d"
* Seira takes several minutes to carefully reconstruct it from memory, paying attention to detail.
> OOC - Go ahead and describe it, then?
<Seira> It shows a small piece of bone, drawn in detail on a one-to-one scale. An all-seeing eye is prominent on it, as well as various enscriptions Seira didn't try to decypher, merely copying them from memory.
> roll 1d20+12
-atarians.dejatoons.net:@#evildunes- Kotono invited Hatbot into the channel.
> roll 1d20+12
> roll 1d20+12
* Hatbot --> "Kotono rolls 1d20+12 and gets 16." [1d20=4]
> Countess Stronger peers at it a good long time, thinking. "Hm. I'm...not sure. Dammit. I'd guess it was some sort of vessel it was in, or something of importance to the spirit."
* Seira nods, having no better idea herself.
> "If the spirit's dispelled, it's probably of no particular use. If it's still remaining, it could be useful to bind it." At that, the Countess goes back to sitting.
* Seira nods once more. If further mischief occurs, she'll have to try and research it in-depth, but for now she's given it enough thought and it's time for a change.
> "Hmmm..." Stronger sits back down again, "Anything else on your mind, Captain?" A small smile at that, "That cad giving you problems again?"
<Seira> "He deserted, it seems." Seira frowns. "How annoyin-- I suppose he is."
> "...he did what?!" Stronger's relaxes, easy smile shattered, into a look of pure annoyance. "That little jerk! Just when I thought he might not be a complete, manipulative bastard, he ran off? "
* Seira shrugs.
> "Urgh! Why is it always the nice look...Ugh." Stomping her foot in a bout of pique, "Today was just such a nice day until that, too."
* Seira shuffles uncomfortably.
> Sighing as she mutters a few other unkind things, "Sorry, you look like I just punched you." She sighs slowly, her body deflating like a burst balloon in slow motion. "...did you have a thing for him, or something?"
* Seira shakes her head. "A most intense apathy, all things considered, only occasinally tinged with dislike."
> "Oh. Well." Pausing a few moments, eyeing Seira, "Let's just let this matter go and get to business instead?"
* Seira nods again.
> "Before we begin, anything in particular you're going to want to ask or study about?" STronger asks.
<Seira> "I trust in your judgement and skill, Ma'am,"  Seira responds, looking up to the older woman.
> "Oh come on. That's the most suck up line I've ever heard," Snorting as she eyes Seira, "Don't you have any preference? You were just talking about what spells you wanted to learn, after all."
<Seira> "I was," Seira agrees. "But I have no special preference between the various things I want to learn. As someone who knows these spells well, you would know best how to approach their study."
> "Alright then," Countess Stronger nods, settling down and in. "Let's get started on those spells, then!" OOC - Skip ahead?"
<Seira> OOC: Sure
> OOC: What spells did you ask for?
<Seira> OOC: Let's cover it later?
> OOC: Okay, then moving on?
> The afternoon wears on, the rain lingering. It only gets worse today, a steady pelting as you approach the Dawn Pointe Inn. Not many people are out, but the inn's warm door is still open for visitors and patrons.
> The butcher's shop next door is dark, forgotten, closed. No signs of anything from it, only a now forbidden fragment.
<Seira> The inn it is!
> Seira heads towards the inn. Inside she can smell food cooking, the scent of meat, vegetables and pungent garlic in the air. The front is manned, the innkeeper yawning into her hand as you enter. "Oh...good evening!" A quick look up to Seira, a nod.
<Seira> "I'm here as a customer, this time," Seira tells her, smiling.
> "Yes, yes. Sir Febras is upstairs at that window he likes. Go sit down if ou like, dinner will be served in a few minutes." An easy nod at that, yawning after. "Too many strange things going on lately, hm?"
* Seira returns the nod. "Are they keeping you awake at night?"
> "Oh...I just don't sleep well lately..." The innkeeper pales, looking away. "It takes a toll on me."
<Seira> "If there is anything I can do..." Seira offers. "To repay for all your assistance this far."
> "Hahahaha..." Quickly laughing and shaking her head, "It's fine. I'll just drink wine with dinner tonight, that will help me sleep."
* Seira nods, as she seems to be doing a lot today, and waits for Febras.
> Yawning, the innkeeper leads you to a nice, quiet room with a medium sized table, six seats. Soon she goes to finish the meal, and after a moment or two of wait, Febras enters. He wears a dark cloak , his hat worn even inside. "Good evening," he murmurs, as he goes to sit.
<Seira> "Evening," Seira responds. "If you wear your hat to protect your eyes from the sunlight, why do you still have it on now?" she asks curiously, though unapologetically bluntly.
> "Habit," Febras chuckles, "I'm used to wearing it."
<Seira> "You might look better without it," she mentions casually. "Maybe not. It's hard to say. But worth a try, probably."
> With a light shrug, Febras puts the hat down. His eyes are a sharp green, face somewhat...feral. Quite alert, tight, taunt. "Well?" he asks, waiting.
<Seira> "Not bad," Seira tells him. "Clothes might need better coordination, but I'm not the person to speak to about that part."
> "Pfah," Laughing a little at that, "When is the last time something you've fought has cared about your clothes?"
<Seira> "It is yet to happen. But I know it will, some day!"
> "There are always firsts," Febras settles back in, adjusting the plain ring on his finger. "An animated coat rack and clothes closet, perchance?"
<Seira> "I would rather fight an evil gnome," she says with a snort.
> Despite the way he looks, lean and quick, there is something else to his posture. Rigid but comfortable, commanding. His eyes stay on Seira, "You have an interest in gnomes? The subject recurs over and over."
* Seira raises an eyebrow, returning his look easily. "As you've said, the subject does recur."
> His blonde hair is short as he stays focused. "..heh. It has nothing to do with my work," he confesses, as  you see the innkeeper enter. She bears a stew pot, putting it down with a smile and going back out. "If you're interested in such a matter, do you think this matter ties to it?"
<Seira> "Perhaps," she allows vaguely. "What sort of rumors have you heard? It is best to clean up all the minsunderstandings in advance, I believe."
> The innkeeper returns, this time with a tray of steaming warm bread. She puts it down and exits again, smiling. Once she is gone, "Nothing solid. Old whispers here and there. A human's recollections of a war that may have invovled the gnomes." He just shrugs, "The matter bears me very little concern. As far as I've ever dealt, the gnomes have passed on peacefully into seclusion or extinction. I deal with what won't leave in peace."
<Seira> "I know a bit more," Seira tells him, partaking of the stew. "Their deaths were quite violent and chaotic... anything but peaceful. I would not be surprised if someone -- or something -- lingered on. And now might be a good time to act, with the gods and elves in seclusion and the trouble brewing with our neighbors."
> The stew is fresh, uncursed meat with vegetables and garlic. "If they return as cursed undead, they'll be sent back." Febras shrugs at first, going for the soup and slowly taking a few sips from a spoon. Just a few, passing. "Still, you raise a very good point. Malmuth is in dissent and recovering, and the United Baronies are new. The only other counties in the area are the secluded elves and the faraway Desert Fiefdoms."
<Seira> "Where do you hail from?" Seira asks curiously.
> A pause, as the innkeeper brings a plate of pastries out, placing them down last. She bows and sits, "Please, go on," she smiles warmly, smothering a yawn after.
> Febras nods to her absently, a bare glance. He slowly pops his finger joints, rubbing the golden ring he wears. "Quite far away. I'm a traveller - does Gulden mean athing to you?"
<Seira> roll 1d20+5
* Hatbot --> "Seira rolls 1d20+5 and gets 9." [1d20=4]
> Seira draws a blank on it.
<Seira> "Maybe if I had a general direction..." she hedges.
> "Gulden...lies across the sea," A light, easy shrug at that. Febras stays looking at Seira, "Funny. Everyone's usually content to simply accept things on face value. You might have the makings of a good investigator."
<Seira> "It's part of my job, maybe," Seira says with a shrug, allowing herself to be diverted off the subject. "Speaking of questioning anything and everything, has your gracious host been this sleepy from the moment you've first met her?"
> "Oh!" The innkeeper looks down, eyeslids black and baggy. "There's always so much going...on..." she mumbles.
> "She's been busy," Febras admits plainly, "I'm afraid I keep her up at times - I keep hours that are not normal to most, and she finds it regretable to leave me alone and not talked to."
<Seira> "I suspected it was your fault, somehow," Seira says chidingly. "You should be more considerate to other people!"
> "Oh...it's my fault..." The innkeeper murmurs, looking down more. "Isn't it?"
> "She should rest more," Febras agrees, casting a gaze to her. A distant gaze, idle. "Not everyone is suited to walk the night."
* Seira nods, eating in silence for a length of time, before asking suddenly, "Hey, how come you wrote about that Donald guy in your scroll?"
> The Innkeeper eats at a steady pace, while Febras only takes a few faint sips of his soup. "...hm? Oh, that." He suddenly snorts in amusement, leaning back in his chair. "The scroll's a notepad on what I had. I felt I should record my observations about this, as it looks that the wild magic relates to the troubles in Balmuria."
> "Donald was...merely a hotheaded, ill timed youth. I would think a warrior who hunts undead would have more discipline, but I was mistaken." Another snort, this one louder.
<Seira> "He's still young," Seira says, immune to irony.
> "Are you saying that as an excuse or as sympathy?" Febras challenges back, now starting to laugh. A hard, sharp laugh, as sharp as daggers flying in the air. The innkeeper looks down at all, this closing her eyes and working on her meal. "No matter. If he grows, he may be a good hunter yet."
<Seira> "He'll grow," Seira says decisively. "I peg him as too driven to simply die."
> "The irony is that the drive to do so can bring one back from restful eternity," Febras remarks, rather amused but letting his laugh die down. He pauses a moment, expression dropping. "Seira, that raisesa point. Have you considered what to do if that fate falls on you, if you continue to search after the problem here and fall?"
<Seira> "There is little point of thinking about what comes after failure," she responds, pursing her lips. "In the event that I die, I would not exactly be in a position to do something. And if the key to avoiding such danger is letting the matter drop and abandoning the civillians I am sworn to protect, I do not find such safety to be worth it."
> "Is there little point? What if you wake up after death, in a decaying body that never fades away?" A serious, pointed question, the humor present before now gone like a puff of wind. "Not to run, but to...be prepared. To have someone who promises to release you from that state should you fail."
<Seira> "Knock yourself out putting the zombified me to rest," Seira tells him with a snort. "Do make sure I'm actually irrevocably dead beforehand, please."
> "Of course." Febras just smirks at that, "Hope that it never happens, of course."
<Seira> "I'll be sure to return the favor, if there's any need," she adds happily.
> "Heh, heh," Just chuckling with warmth, Febras returns for another faint sip of his soup. "Oh yes, you asked about a certain matter the last time we met?"
<Seira> "I ask many things," she agrees noncommittally, waiting for Febras to continue.
> "The matter close to your heart," Febras continues, pushing on. "You asked about a certain mage?"
<Seira> "I did."
> "I do remember one thing of interest," Febras goes on, "It was several years ago. An elven wizard was looking to purchase a type of gemstone in particular."
<Seira> "One imbued with a spell?" Seira asks, sounding moderately curious.
> "No. Just plain gemstones. What he was to do with them, I don't know." Febras pauses his foot, pushing his barely touched food away. "This man, he matters to you?"
<Seira> "He might. Describe him for me?"
> "An elf wearing a loose shirt and a dull red jacket. He had scales in golden thread on the jacket." Pursing his lips a moment, "He wore jewelry as well, but not the t ype for value. The casual way that it's worn when it's to protect and aide, not just to look expensive."
* Seira nods thoughtfully. "Which gemstones was he interested in, then?"
> "Diamonds that time. Oh yes, he traded magic for a few of them. Little things here and there." Pausing a moment more to think, "Small diamonds of all about the same shape."
* Seira thinks back to whether any of the imbued gems she had encountered so far had been small diamonds.
> The gem Celebrimbor had was a diamond.
<Seira> "Makes sense," she muses. "Do you remember anything else from the encounter?"
> "Nothing of direct importance." A small shake of his head, "It was to the west, in the deserts."
<Seira> "That also makes sense."
> "...Seira." Febras considers things a moment or two, "I ask of you, answer my question - are you looking for this man. For I feel that as long as you ar here, leaving this town a short while may be acceptable. I am a tracker, and I would offer to attempt to find this person."
* Seira doesn't respond immediately, mulling over the offer. "I have another lead to follow up on, first, but after that...." She tilts her head slightly. "Are you offering to try and take me to him, or asking me to watch over the city as you go on your own?"
> "The latter. I travel best alone. If I find him, I can bring him to you, or bring back what information I find." A short, momentary nod at those words.
<Seira> "Alright, then. I'll try to avoid becoming a zombie in the meanwhile."
> "I'll leave in a few days...there is a matter I must attend to, but..." STanding and half bowing to the quiet innkeeper, "A wonderful meal."
<Seira> "Indeed," Seira agrees, likewise standing. "A personal matter, or something I could be of service at?"
> "Personal, just a minor matter, but thank you," Bending to pick up his hat and put it back on, "...until then, when there shall be good news, fate willng?"
* Seira nods. "Feel free to use force if you find him and he refuses to come. Make it extra painful, if you can. As long as he lives without permanent injury, it's all good."