"Aye, Kaul. That we will." Showing no particular discomfort at the proximity of the pancake, Jim returns to the negotiations. "It's also possible that they'll tell us to go jump, hey? What do you have to tell them that's so valuable they'll reward us for bringing you to them?"
The Taldan pauses, struck by an idea. "As it happens, I'm thinking we could use some advice from the Eyes ourselves...there's a rock we have to--never mind the details, they aren't important. How about you give us something we can tell the Caretakers to convince them to let us in? For I don't fancy the notion of sneaking into the mountain. Too many people must have tried that before."
Beldar spins slowly waving his tentacles in an expansive fashion. "We come from beyond the stars to warn of threats from the black. Our kind have long dealt with those who once lived in the now flooded cities of the coast near here. They are gone as are many who could see the portents and share our visions. We seek those who still dream. We think the Eyes will speak with us. We can make a painting."
"Right... I dinnae understand it, but iffin there's a profit?" looking to the triumvariate of sanity for confirmation before turning to Kaul "Been a while since I last got inked... ye feel like puttin some colour on ye?"
Damn me...from beyond the stars? What kind of ship sails those seas? Jim slowly smiles. "Make your picture and I'll do my part. But when all this is over, I'd like a chance to steer one of your ships. 'Twould be fine practice for running the Maelstrom in Seawraith, I'm thinking."
The flumph waves its tentacles excitedly, "Yes, will we swear an oath. You will help us and we will make a painting. We will need some pigments. Please secure shells and red berries."
Missing Kaul's joke, Beldar does his best to describe some common berries and snail shells that he can use for his paints and then after inquiring about his podmates, ascends to the rafters.
Not hearing a response to his query of Kaul, Dibbs shakes his head and tells the others "I'm off tae get some more ink. Find me iffin ye needs me." muttering as he stumps off "Wonder how much trouble lil Smeekit's gotten hisself into now..."
Dibbs will then look for a decent tattoo parlour that won't be put off by his unique and irreproducible eau de Dibbs.
Dibbets quickly finds the Black Spot Inkworks which doesn't appear to be very picky about its clientele. Inside a toothless Varisian gent displays his folios and the wandering tattoos upon his own leathery canvas. He introduces himself as Vadim.
Dibbets thinks about what event he'd like to immortalize upon his skin today as he browses Vadim's folios.
Skinbag onna stick? - were right fun like, but might be a bit hard tae get the right image.
Skull wiv a big tongue? - be funny... but might piss of Kauly a wee bit much, an he's been less than stable lately - best not make a target.
Tum-Bobblehead wiv his hair on fire? - nah, don't want that bugger on me skin fer the rest of me life.
Lighthouse? - morbid.. an would remind me o' half-hitch gettin his end away.
Nah - mebbe it's best tae stick to the simpler things.
Dibbets describes the work he wants done to Vadim - all in black, a ring of rope around his left wrist tied off in a knot on the inside - then one leg of the rope trailing up towards his elbow where it peters out into a frayed end.
Jim chuckles at Kaul's comment, nodding at him and at Dingus. "Aye, an easy job, for once." The Taldan starts, looking around. "Say, any of you hear that? Sounded like 'dun-dun-dun!'?"
Posting is going to be sparse for the next day or so--end of fiscal year, so I have a bunch of stuff to finish at work, and I found out this morning that my son has a chorus concert tonight.
Chuckling Dibbs replies "Heh, ye won't find me linin up fer a hangin neither... Got strung up recent by a wee lil devil I knows. Has a choice tae kill 'im fer it but I figured it out like... See he were only doin what was in 'is nature. So's it's there tae remind meself tae cut free o' the feckers tha'd tie ye up an live the life ya needs tae an bugger tha rest o' them. Ye gots any rum?"
Vadim nods as he considers Dibbets' sage advice. He stops with a cross look on his face at the mention of rum, "Rum no good. Make you loosh your teeth! Try my tsuica. It's my fasher's recipe from the old country."
When the crew finally returns to their respective quarters, Dibbets finds Smeekit curled up on the stained cot with an empty bottle of fine spirits. He gives Dibbets a cunning smile, but says nothing about where he's been.
Meanwhile at the Crab Pot, the owner's son is trying hard to keep things running smoothly after his dad fell down the cellar steps investigating odd noises in the cellar. Some boozer reportedly broke in and grabbed several of the inn's finest bottles. The owner was lucky not to break his neck, but without a proper priesthood about, he'll be on the mend for a while.
Dibbs smiles somewhat skeptically, but takes a draught of the tsuica when offered. Assuming that the hair on the nape of his neck stands on end appreciatively, he'll ask for a bottle full to take with him after Vadim does his work.
Back at his filthy hovel Dibbs smirks as he sees the wee one with his hard won spoiled. He turns in for the night early to ease out his weary bones and looks forward to the dawn.
The Groom will see about gathering dinner for the crew. At the Crab Pot, he finds the proprietor laid up with a bum leg. Ever the opportunist, the Groom will offer a healing for the discount price of large meal for five to go and a few bottles of the local rot-gut.
Jim returns to the warehouse to surreptitiously deliver the 'art supplies' which Beldar inspects making pleased puffing sounds. The flumph carefully crushes and mixes the pigments with some smelly and caustic excretions and begins to work a wooden plank with a style that seems part etching part painting forming a whirling pattern.
That night at the Crab Pot, the owner is quite grateful for the assistance. After some loud misgivings about the pale man's intentions, the innkeep is pleased to find his injuries remedied. He treats his guests to a full meal with the remaining bottle or two from his pillaged cellar.
The generous meal has only just started when a silent stranger enters the inn from the darkening street. A tall, slender form nearly completely covered in a hooded cloak and homespun dress peers through an avian mask at the diners. A sleeve rises and slender white feminine finger beckons.
this occurs two nights later. We can assume someone invited Dibbets who would be grudgingly allowed in as long as Smeekit was nowhere in sight. Fortunately, Smeekit mumbles something about 'scene of the crime' and falls back asleep sprawled across the open cot.
the Groom pushes back from the table and gets to his feet. "I have consorted with scarier visages than this. Let's go find out what wisdom this chatter box can lay down on us and maybe find a buyer for our box o'rocks. Maybe we can take her by the warehouse and save Beldar from having to finish his 'art'." He finishes his drink, setting th glass on the table, and moves toward the door.
The flumph was still hard at work on his painting last you checked. The arrival of a 'Caretaker' is unexpected and leaves you wondering if the oracles have predicted the flumph's coming. At the moment however, the silent woman shows no interest in going to the warehouse. Instead she turns and walks with determined strides through the gloaming light away from the docks.
The woman does not slacken her speed as the moonless night falls on the town. Dibbets and those without enhanced vision are soon pressed to keep up the pace. Only Kaul keeps up easily pondering that the Caretaker has quite a nice shape accentuated by the yet faintly glimmering multicolored sash snug above her hips.
Know local DC 10:
You realize that the woman is not leading you to the shell paved path to the oracles called the Wise Artery, but toward the eastern edge of town.
Sorry about going dark the past couple of days; the home computer I usually use is warning of incipient hard drive failure, and I spent far too much time trying to back it up.
Jim tries to keep up by tracking off of Kaul's occasional muttering, but avoiding unseen obstacles puts his acrobatics skills to the test (and raises the unbidden memory of his poor performance with Shelyn). Damn me, but I'm sick to death of traveling by night.
Dibbets grumbles soon grow more urgent as his fractured leg aches with pain at the pace set by their strange companion. Not caring overmuch if he's overhead he mumbles "This ain't the way tae the Oraclies... we're headed tae tha East edge of town."
The masked form half turns, holds up a finger for patience, and then gives a scooting motion with her hand for expediency as she continues walking toward the edge of town.
Alright. Who keeps casting "disapearing dot" on my profile"?
Dingus and Richard follow, happy that things have finally returned somewhat to normal...well for this crew anyway, and whistles an ancient Tian tune about a dog that took over a pirate ship crewed all by cats as he walks along.
Finally after stumping his toe for about the fifth time, he casts "Light" on the end of his hanbo, and continues on with the remainder of the group.
Appreciating the even slight pause offered as their guide lets up the pace a few moments, Dibbets massages a little of the pain in his leg away. "Bloody hell... looks like we ain't gettin an answer till we get there. P'raps we should be ready tae gut the lass iffin we don't like it when it finally comes like" looking a little balefully at the taskmistress.
Nods his head. He pauses for a half step and mutters, "For a glass of rum and piece of eight, strike for me the colors of this funeral barge whose wake I follow."
He squints and resumes following the silent figure, hand on the chitin hilt of his saber.
the Groom squints at the back of the Caretaker leading the group and by the time you reach the dirt track out of town reaches a judgement.
the Groom:
faint evil. did you expect anything else? ; )
A few steps into the black jungle and Dingus' glow stick reveals a wagon with a powerfully built and ruggedly handsome man in the driver's seat. He stands at the approach of the woman and then focuses a suspicious gaze upon the crew. The masked woman turns and waits for you to catch up.
A clear voice rings out, little muffled by the ceramic mask, "Pardon the subterfuge. I prefer my business to be my own and have found that few will question a Caretaker guiding petitioners in town. But to business, I believe we have a mutual acquaintance. A little bird told me you have some samples of rock with properties that might be of some slight interest to me. I'm prepared to offer 100 gold per crate."
