"We're discussing that, Telv." Connor responded gently, mindful of the others in the carriage. "Right now, it looks like Flann and Adran will be using theirs. Yours includes 'to learn', and I would not want to have you give up that wish so soon after being out in the big wide world. If mine could do it, I would use mine without hesitation."
Connor sat back, sighing. "This would have been easier if Althenia had fulfilled the Regent's wish when we met her; now we have to do the work ourselves. None of this magic makes any sense." he complained.
Simple enough. We didn't tell the guy how the things work. I can say the wish out loud without clutching the gem. I don't feel the need to do what this guys wants. He is the one changing things and challenging his honor, he's just pissed I called him on it. If it's my time to die then so be it. I have had a fun filled life. I would like some cake though before this all goes down you know just in case I don't get to have cake again. Boss you reckon we can find some cake, oh my wish does build, perhaps I could have the most glorious of cakes. That is a bit selfish though. He smiles back at Flann.
Don't get all upset there buddy, I never had any intention of using or having a wish of my own. I don't think I care about anything that much, but now it's the principle of the matter. So how we playing this?
Adran listens to the regent and climbs in with the others.
he sits whistling and humming like nothing really happened.
"Are there snacks in here? I would like to come back and visit this temple when all this dumb business is done. So not going to lie I pretty much stopped listening. What's the plan? Seeing an immortal dragon sounds cool."
The Regent ignores Adran. As does the Proctor now. Obviously they are leaving it up to Connor and the others to deal with what they are obviously now beginning to believe is a moron.
First, nobody's asking you to die. Except maybe the Proctor. Her nationalism runs high for her Regent. Imagine insulting one of the Clan Elders in his or her office back home. But we're going to do our best to come out of this unscathed, Adran. Connor reassured Adran over Flann's network.
"I believe this clockwork is built for speed, not refreshments, Adran." Connor said dryly. "I am hoping once we get back to Masiaarin, the Regent will tell us where and when to summon this Dargasium. And after we've had some rest," Connor stated, barely stifling another yawn, "we can discuss the dragon's weaknesses, if any, and determine an advantageous course of action."
"But don't start estimating how many taverns you can drink out of business yet." he advised. "We're not done with the mission until the dragon is dealt with."
~I would never want you dead, cousin. It would make me very ill if you were to die.~
What's with all the talk of death? I just kind of want some cake. I mean immortal dragon. We may die we probably won't, the gods seem to like us. You guys are morbid. I say I make the wish the same time the boss does but I don't clutch my rock if we need it more than the boss's.
To Connor's exhausted dismay, the contraption they ride in does not go back to the city. Instead, it turns and curves into the desert, going up and down over one dune and another, for a good half hour. Finally, it stops near a large stone outcropping. The stones break the desert winds, and form a large flat area in the sand.
There are four pillars made of stone in this flat area, marking off a large square area that's around 200 ft square.
Getting out of the conveyance, the group is led down to it. "When you summon it, summon it into the square. Make sure you wish it facing me on the rocks. I'll keep it distracted while this person does his part." He waves at Adran. Then he reaches into his belt and pulls out a pair of old leather work gloves that have been patched several times. Slipping them on, he reaches out with his right and and grasps thin air, as if it were solid.
Then, as if holding onto something, he reaches his left hand out, and the hand vanishes into thin air, as if he were reaching into an invisible object floating there. A few seconds later, his hand pulls out, and now holds a a black crystalline skull.
"Reaper of souls, death of universes, ultimate judgement, step forth by the ancient compact." The Regent intones, and the skull begins to emit a dark shadow. The shadow forms a skeletal body and smokey robes, until a hooded form made of shadow and darkness appears, a massive scythe in it's hand.
The creature looks to The Regent. "Thy soul is not yet ready to be claimed, thou doth still cheat death. What purpose have thee, perverter of nature?" It's voice is oddly sibilant and insubstantial, yet it's very brush over your ears makes your spines turn to ice.
The regent nods, and the Proctor brings forth a feather that looks like one of Adraniel's. She hands it to the Regent, who holds it out to the apparition. "I have kept every bargain I have made, per the compact. By that compact, I bring you one who attempted to subvert his compact with me." The apparition takes the feather, and it bursts into black flames, not consumed, but burning.
The apparition tilts its head, and looks from The Regent to Adraniel, and nods. "This one has no concern for compacts made or broken. His soul is acceptable." The apparition's fingers, still holding the feather, snap, and the feather explodes in a ball of black flames. The apparition looks at the fingers. "This ones soul is protected from consumption by one of Power."
The Regent nods. "I had thought as much, still, you may not be able to consume it's soul, but you can still take it to it's Grave for the rest of time, yes?"
The apparition nods. "The soul is protected, but it's Grave is mine to take, whenever I choose. Do you wish me to take this Soul to it's Grave, Compact Maker?"
The Regent shakes his head. "Only if it fails to perform it's portion of our compact. An immortal will soon be brought here, when it is, this one is to touch it and use it's wish granted by one of the Lesser Powers to remove that immortal to the Prison of Elements. If it does not do so, I wish you to remove it to its Grave for Eternity."
The apparition nods. "So shall it be done."
Bast warned you to be more careful going forward in your actions! You have been touched, all of you! Now Adran has drawn the attention of an Elder Power! And one that does not take kindly to being thwarted! How can mere mortals wander into such trouble!
~Looks like the Regent's got powerful friends too. Wonder if he sent someone else to the prison twenty-five years ago or if he went himself... Seems to me he hangs a lot of his authority on higher powers and it's been attracting the attention of their neighbors. A magical arms race.~
Oh, Adran. Connor lamented over Flann's network. Now you see what happens when you mouth off to people more powerful than you? I had thought to give you extra duty back on the Elephant, but knowing this will be worse. Even Tenfa is upset. We could have done this procedure without others becoming aware of us. Watching us from now on. A magical arms race, indeed.
Just use your wish the way the Regent wants you to, please.
Connor said out loud, "Adran, just use your wish as directed. We'll work things out later, after all this is done."
And this tells us just how much magic the Surface dwellers control. Connor added. Enough to talk to Death and godlings through their high priestesses, it seems. Atalantia has been isolated for too long, the Surface has progressed to this point. We are not superior to them with our psionics. If anything, we are the ones who need to catch up.
Welll..... you are moving in some rarified circles. You have an Avatar, which attracts others of a similar ilk. Then you somehow managed to attract a Demon Seed, not sure how you managed that, that was before my time. But... well... let's just say that probability gets warped a bit around my avatars. So it's not entirely your fault. But that just means you lot have to be careful. There's a difference between having fun with attracting strangeness and deliberately walking up to wasp nests and sticking your reproductive organ in it to see what happens.
Telv followed along with the others once the mechanical device stopped moving. He watched the interaction between Connor, Adran, and the Regent, confused but trying his best to follow along.
When the Reaper appeared, Telv didn't shy away from him as others might; Instead, he continued listening to the conversation while remaining silent.
"Hey death. I have sent lots of souls to you myself. Good to know what the afterlife has in store. It brings peace. Though don't we get to play a game or something? Is that a myth? Was always curious."
Adran nods and winks at Connor.
Got you boss, I will wish just make sure you wish at the same time. I don't plan on grabbing my rock. I don't have control of much but I live and die as I choose. I bet this old dude can hear our telepathy or something. He seemed to hint he knew what I was planning. At this point not sure why we are even helping him at all. I bet for all his power he can't handle all of us if we use our wish's against him. Bet the dragon would honor his deal if we had one.
Adran approaches death whistling and humming his tune.
"So protected? What does that mean? Death is there cake on your plane. I mean do souls still eat? What is torment and damnation like. I mean I have tortured and killed people so like that but up a notch or so right? So no cake that would be hell I think I understand now. Though I have a crazy fear of scantily dressed woman and alcohol. You can torture me with anything but that please."
He continues walking around whistling.
The apparition seems to ignore Adran at first, then it focuses on him.
"Thou has sent nothing to me. This realm, I leave to my minion, Alcinea, this world's Goddess of Death. I shall inform her that your soul is to be mine, upon your death." The apparition waves a hand, and Adran's hair turns bone white, the same color as The Regent's hair. "That death will be very soon, Adraniel. For when you fail to use your wish stone, I will take your head, and your soul will go to your ultimate reward. What reward awaits you, will be determined by thy life and thy soul. I cannot say I believe it to be a pleasant one. I do not torture the dead, they do that to themselves. I only ensure they stay there. There will be no return from my journey. Thou art marked, Adraniel of Atalantia. The crux of thy life is upon thee."
Oh dear, I did warn you. How he lives his life informs his death, and no wish or spell or psionics can bring him back now. And now he's drawn Alcinea's attention, she really doesn't like it when a soul is taken from her keeping. Do you think you could slit his throat before he attracts any more attention to you all dear?
The Regent moves to the top of the stones, so he's in position.
ADRAN, DO THE WISH AS DIRECTED! Connor sent with some force through Flann's network. Flann, I'm not worried about you, you seem to know to do as the Regent has requested. Just move away after the wish!
Adran, my wish doesn't work like yours - mine is destruction only. You have to use your wish! Otherwise you'll be gone and we'll have to use Telv's wish to get rid of the dragon!
"I don't want to lose you, Adran!" Connor said loudly over the events happening. He looked at Telv in her female Wingless elf form. Desperation flickered across his face, and Connor moved closer to the ooze-person, his wings quivering on their own from his back. "Telv, we might need your wish after all - to save us here if Adran fails." he said quickly.
Adran waves and smiles.
"Cool Death. See you soon, though soon is relative to an ageless entity or whatever you are. Wait so all the people I killed you get none of that? Maybe we can make a deal for future ones. Well or whatever time I have left you know. You interested? How do I make sure you get the souls. Seems you gave the old guy some juice to do so."
He looks over to Connor.
"No worries boss I'm not dead nor plan to die yet. I will use my wish if that's what the group wants. Just don't like letting old guy here change things how he seems it suits him and then question my honor. Oh well none of us are getting any younger, and now I really want some cake so lets finish up and get back and have some celebratory cake."
A wave of supernatural dread washes over Adran as the apparition focuses on him, and he has a brief flash of an endless desert, cold and barren, an endless trek just begun. But he manages to shake the feeling off and continue nattering on.
"Okay, just tell me what to say."
Assuming that you don't want to have Telv's father interfere, that is =P
"When I point toward you, say the following : I wish Dargasium the Prism Dragon was within the stone square in front of me, facing The Regent." The Regent says, before heading off to the stones and climbing to the top.
The Regent points toward Telv, and Telv reaches up and grabs their gem as it orbits in front of them and speaks the words aloud, almost mimicing The Regent's tone.
There is a sudden rush of sand as the gem vanishes, a whirlwind that grows to fill the entire square of sand. As it begins to die down, a massive crystaline and adamantine dragon appears, facing the regent. Obviously parts of it's body have been damaged and replaced with constructed parts. Purple bolts of lightning arc out from it's body, slamming into the sand and creating molten glass around it!
The dragon rears back. "YOU! THEIF! I WILL KILL YOU!"
The regent weathers the screaming voice, and even seems to shrug off a bolt of purple lightning, as if it had no effect on him.
"Forget it it, metal face. You've been trying a long time, you'll just cause yourself to lose more of your essence if you try. Just stand there a few minutes and listen."
"LISTEN TO WHAT WORM!"
Flann begins manifesting Body Adjustment on Connor.
The gladiator's gauze on Connor's belt vanished, and Connor barely managed to survive the first lightning hit.
Connor spread his wings, flying backwards with all of his might, withdrawing to get out of the range of those lightning bolts. He shut his eyes and crossed his arms defensively, too awestruck by the dragon's form to do much else.
Flann, I'm hit. I took the entire arc of that lightning. Connor said using Flann's network. Another like that, no, anything, and I'm a dead pigeon.
Hero the psicrystal unbound itself from the top of Connor's staff, using its' legs to secure itself around the staff itself.
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Adran approaches and rest his hand on the dragons backside while grasping his stone with the other.
He then removes his hand bringing it to his forehead and gives the dragon a two finger salute/wave.
"Peace out bro."
Adran races forward on his action to touch the dragon's tail, the closest portion of it.
Adran takes a near miss from a bolt of lightning, the arcing bit of purple turning the sand next to him into a molten mess.
His hand touches the beasts hide, and he yells his wish as energy courses through his body!
The dragon's head whips around and rather than the expected breath of fire, an arcing snapping line of purple energy emerges from it's mouth, melting the sand for a 100 ft on either side of Adran!
As the dragon's breath ends, his body begins to sink into the sand as it sweeps up and over the dragon. The dragon's eyes focus on the party. "I WILL REMEMBER THEE WORMS! THIS WILL NOT PASS...." The dragon's voice fades away as the ground completely consumes it.
The apparition nods. "I foresaw five thousand potential outcomes, in only twenty three of them did thou do thy duty, Adraniel. In seven of those, thou died after making thy wish." The apparition looks off into the distance. "Thou hast proven fortunate this day. Thy future does not look quite so fortunate. Rest assured, we shall meet again. In fourteen futures, thou die within the hour. I shall be eagerly awaiting the time of thy death, be it soon or late." The apparition fades from sight. A black crystal skull falls to the sand. The Proctor steps forward and places her staff next to it, obviously guarding it.
The Regent returns to the sands, and nods. "Well, despite some issues, you and your crew have performed your job." He tells Connor, reaching down to retrieve the skull before storing it away in whatever pocket dimension the gloves access. Replacing the gloves in his belt, he continues. "Therefore, I shall fulfill my end of the agreement, your ship will be repaired. If the shipyard is unable to complete repairs, I'll send for another who should be able to repair it who owes me a debt. It will take some time however. The inn is yours until the ship is repaired. In the future, Connor of McIntyre, I suggest you choose your crew much more carefully, they may get you killed with their tongues." He turns, and starts to walk back to the carriage. "Those who wish a ride back to town, may have it. Those who prefer to carry themselves may do so. Have a good flight, Adraniel Whitehair."
The Proctor smiles. "Thank you for your service. If you need anything else while within the city, you know where to find me." She turns and walks back to the carriage as well, seeming no longer hostile to the group.
Connor could only stand as the dragon was wished away. Hero got out another gauze crafting out of Connor's backpack, keeping one pseudolimb on the humavian as he walked down to his beltline to attach it.
"'It takes many feathers to make a wing.'" Connor quoted back at the Regent. "'If the highest aim of a captain were to preserve his ship, he would keep it in port forever.'" He wearily took his staff, with Hero back at the top, off of his backpack. "But I would be a poor leader if I abandoned Adran to fly alone."
"Flann, show Telv our inn back at Masiaarin. Start his, her, studies in civilization as you think best. Contact the bosun as well." Connor told the others. "Even if Adran won't listen to reason, I'm still going to lecture his ears off on the way back. I'm sure Tenfa will prompt me if I forget anything."
----------------------
During downtime, Telv will do his best to learn what he can of the world. He turns out to be a surprisingly good student, and though he has a rather simplistic view of the world (mainly because he's naïve), it turns out that he's not stupid.
Adran hops around holding his hand as the pain surged through it only to be slammed by the purple energy a moment later. He fell to his knees as the dragon vanished before him.
"That was close." He directs his eyes to death as it speaks.
"Until I see you again then."
"So time to rest?"
After arriving back at the Red Parrot Inn, Connor met with the crew of the Wandering Elephant, giving them a brief summary of what had happened with the dragon on the sands. He paid for an impromptu party at the Inn that night , but retired to his own room almost as soon as he called for the celebration.
Awakening the next morning, Connor felt...different. Powerful. Not overconfident. But new powers were opening in his mind, and something else. Connor wondered if it was his commitment to leading the Misfits of Psionics, as well as the Wandering Elephant. The feeling was unlike anything he had experienced in his life so far. His father, brothers, uncles, and aunts all talked about "taking command". His new awareness had that edge now.
It bothered Connor so much he asked Tenfa about it.
Tenfa, Connor asked, what is this? I feel good enough to fly up to where my feathers freeze and then plunge in a straight dive back to ground in an instant.
Looking around with his changed vision, Connor added Are you able to make me 'quiet' when I get back to Atalantia? I don't want to explode, Hero's jokes notwithstanding. Am I going to have to avoid the wild magic storms now my entire life? Can I go past Alsatia's island without becoming a barrel of gunpowder with Alchemist's fire attached? I don't want to become an outcast, not when I still need to buy land in Atalanta itself.
I told you that spending too much time around Powers would mark you dear. Just being an Avatar marks you. But being exposed to She Whom Bast Said Not To Speak Of is even more so dear. You'll need to be more careful now, you may be a little more powerful than you were before, but you're also going to attract the attention of things that are more powerful. A two-edged sword. She says, sounding both warning and mildly consoling. No dear, you won't explode. Remember, I told you I figured out a way around that didn't I? You may want to wear an eyepatch though, especially during a mana storm. I'm not sure it would be good for your sanity to watch that.
Eyepatch. Thanks. Connor replied, genuinely thankful. He hadn't considered what seeing a mana storm would do to his sanity now.
"Adran! Flann! Telv! Bosun! I'm out to a shopping trip!" Connor called at the greatroom as he left the Inn for the street.
Flann goes in behind Connor and makes sure the paltry carousal is properly funded. He spends what's left of the night explaining to Telv that alcohol is a good excuse for a lack of civility, and pointing out acceptable and unacceptable behaviors.
Despite a night of calm and collected exposition, Flann spends the night curled up in a fetal position under his bed.
In the morning, Flann appears beside Connor at the word 'shopping'. "Let's spread some wealth." He's forgotten his brilliantly pink hair, and being out of his armor and travel gear, lacks a hood to cover it. He too has recovered stashed coin.
Telv will try alcohol, but since it doesn't really seem to effect him, he will avoid it. In the morning, Telv will spend some time just walking around the city, proclaiming to anyone he talks to that he is a "Southern Elf!"
Connor resupplied his backpack's losses from the Prison, adding cold weather gear, cleats, a collapsible bathtub, and enough material to make several psionic items back in his room at the inn. He also bought two small books , as well as enough ink to write in them. Connor picked up a single primer on Aquan, the language of water-based creatures, because of their adventure.
In turn Connor watched Flann buy equipment items, asking "Should I learn how to repair your gun, Flann? Just in case we are pinned down or in another extradimensional holdout."
--------------------
Back at the inn, Connor tested his new powers, and got out his etching tools. When not using what he considered to be the most versatile of all psionics, emerging looking pale-faced and ill, Connor spent writing in both books.
Before I contact home, Tenfa, Connor asked, what kind of view would you prefer for your temple? On the side of a cliff so eagles can land on the multiple roofs, or on a hill near a body of water, with fish to hunt?
And another question - should I try to exchange knowledge of the new Warehouse of the Gods to the Regent for coin? I have a thin book here telling him of the Clans of Atalantia. That can be a parting gift. But Flann, Adran, even Telv should get a little "walking around money" for what they endured. The 'tel Mintakias will get a similar book written before we arrive, of course. But I could offer the Regent a first look - for a price.
A view of a lake out one side, and a view of a bank or palace out the other side, so everyone can plot how to steal things from it. And I think you could probably sell that to him yes. If you want more favor, give him the prison book, and sell him the book about your homeland. If you want more gold, sell him the prison book and give your homeland book.
Telv gets odd looks from the folk of the city, but mostly they just ignore her when she speaks about being a southern elf.
Flann waits like a purse-holding husband while the captain buys all the captain-y stuff from the captain store, stopping only to pick up an odd box shaped perfectly to fit the large loop on the bandolier he wears. "I was reading some of the advertisements the salesperson left in my new gun's case while you were carving those statues. This has all the stuff I need, I think. Never had a need to fix one before now."
"Very well." Connor replied to Flann. "I've learned to never underestimate having the right tools for the job."
------------------------
In the middle of the week, Connor found Telv in the morning and privately gave him a small bundle of gauze with a belt loop as well as holding out his arm to the ooze-person. A tattoo, looking like a valentine heart wrapped with a rose vine, rose off of Connor's forearm and began wiggling towards his outstretched fingertips. "Here are a few gifts from our group - the gladiator's gauze is in case something hits you and tries to kill you. The gauze should stop you from dying immediately. The psionic tattoo of natural healing is to get you back on your feet again, in a fight. We each have one of each." Connor showed Telv the gauze on his own belt. "Don't use them now! You 'tap' the tattoo to activate it. Don't show them to everyone - just keep them on you." he advised.
-------------------------
At the beginning of the second week, Connor went to go find Proctor Kilgore at the City Council Building, two small books tucked under his arm. He told the people behind the desks only that he had "a business matter" with the Proctor, "one best discussed privately in her office".
Connor has to wait about an hour before she frees up, apparently his priority access has been reduced to 'access' level.
Eventually though, they let him into an office where Proctor Kilgore is seated behind a desk made of stone and metal. The west wall is covered with various weapons, the east wall with a map of the local desert, and the third wall with books and scrolls.
The top of the desk is neat and clean, with four 'boxes' made of thin wire formed into a mesh, so that the contents of each box can be seen. There are small scrolls in each box, held closed with small colored ribbons of various colors.
The proctor is just rolling a small scroll up that she was writing something on and puts it in one of the boxes. "Ser McIntyre, what do you need?" She asks, taking a small scroll from a different box and untying the ribbon. She begins to read the scroll while waiting for Connor's answer. "Please pardon me as I work while we talk, even I cannot avoid my paper work forever, and I'm woefully behind after the last few weeks." She waves a hand at the boxes of scrolls.
"It's been more restful for myself and my crew this last week." Connor responded easily. "Two things: first, a final report for the Regent." he stated, placing a book entitled The Warehouse of the Gods, or the Prison of the Elements, by Connor of McIntyre of Atalantia in front of the brunette officer on her desk. "My hobby is writing. While I won't even guess as to the Regent's intelligence methods, I doubt he will pass up an eyewitness account of the adventure we survived. Although some parts are quite different now, as described in the afterword. Yes, as you might expect, my memoirs will also relate the tale to others back home, but the Regent gets a 'first look' here. In case anyone is foolish enough to return to that place."
"As for myself, I find that I am embarrassingly short of coin." Connor said. "The Regent has been more than generous in fixing our skyship, but the repairs are taking far longer than I'd hoped. I won't bore you with a merchant captain's responsibilities to both his crew and his ship's owners back at port, but rather than find out if anyone needs a sculptor of statues, I've decided to sell knowledge. Specifically, mine."
The second book put on the desk was entitled Atalantia, Home of the Winged People, with a similar byline. "Even after delivering the Regent's mercenary offer, I believe the Regent would want to know the names of the Clans, a map of the islands with the major cities, and the freeports and the taxing authorities. As well as the dangers of the mana storms that has affected our culture so deeply. The last fourth of this book is a personal account of two skyships taking on, and defeating, a flight of disagreeable dragons, as well as the tactics and munitions used."
"Given the uniqueness of this tome, would a price of a thousand gold pieces be too much to ask?" Connor asked, ready to haggle.
After an intense morning of relaxation and shopping, Flann sneaks off and starts asking around about a temple of Tenfa and if he could get safe passage there. He's still wary of both the Proctor and the way other Gods threw around the word 'thief', so he's not asking literal guards about it.
Flying out of town, Flann quickly spots the Temple to Tenfa they flew over a week ago. There are giant eagles circling overhead, making it easy to spot.
Landing near what looks like the entrance, he encounters two halflings. The first is a male with a head of curly hair and a pipe, wearing a cloak over plain clothes, while the second is a blonde female with a staff wearing a simple blue dress.
"Well now, I'll be damned. I guess Sorvert wasn't drunk on duty after all. I done seen it all now, a halfling with wings. Don't know what the Old Dame was thinkin' of with that. How the hell de ye sneak around with those great things stickin' out of yer back?" The male says, pointing to Flann's wings with his pipe stem.
The woman shakes her head. "Well, ye can't say it ain't efficient, easier than taming a bloody eagle chick." She waves her staff top toward Flann. "Looks like he ticked the Old Lady off, look at that hair. Ain't seen hair that color since old Snoggy got drunk on the alter and be-pissed himself. Course, he was a donkey with pink hair for a year and a day."
The male halfling nods. "Ayup, miss that donkey. He was right useful. Lot more useful than 'ol Snoggy was, even if he was a high priest."
Flann balks, and with a few flutters he folds his black fore wings over the bright red patterns of his hind wings, and lets them collapse to a single paper-thin sail. "Helps when you can convince folks you aren't there to begin with," Flann says, referring to a Shroud Marksman's talent for psionic obfuscation. If it gets a laugh, Flann is visibly surprised.
At the mention of donkeys, Flann laughs nervously and runs a hand through his hair. "I came very close to the same fate, I fear. The ears, at least. I- er, come from a place that the Gods don't or can't touch--therewasawarorsomething,I'mnohistorian--and recently had a brush with... well, let's say I find myself quite close to Her influence for the forseeable, and therefore have an interest in keeping Her well pleased. Flann Swallowtail, quite literally at your service." He ducks his gaze rather than bowing.
To a Terrestrial Halfling's eye, Flann radiates an unnatural nervousness and coldness in his countenance, like a cousin who's had his fill of of a particularly cruel family, or at least one who frequently misses the joke. He seems... busy, which is a four letter word unless paired with partying. He also seems to think the woman in blue is in charge here.
Neither laughs at Flann's joke, both kind of nod vaguely, as if someone had said that it wasn't a problem getting wet if you never touched water.
When he admits to the woman laughs. "Sounds like the Old Lady. She's got a right mean sense of humor. I heard tell of a long-shank she turned into a camel for spitting on her alter."
The halfling male shakes his head. "Nah, dat was a dang elf, not a humie. One of dem barber elves from de jungle."
The woman tilts her head. "Oh? You mean a barbarian? That would explain why it was spitting. Barbarians don't have any common sense."
"Dat's what I said, a barber elf." He replies, frowning, then turns to Flann. "Anywho, ye can call me Wellsy, Flann the Swallowtail. And de ditzy blonde ye can call..." She glares at him with one eye, and he obviously changes his mind about what he was about to say. "Er, ye can call her Mitzvy. According to de Powers What Be, I'm supposed ta be a Deacon."
"Not much of a Deacon, if you ask me." Mitzvy says, with a long glance at Wellsby. "I'm a Priestess." She tells Flann. "So, you're saying you haven't heard about Her Sneakyness before, and you're wanting to learn more about her because you're going to be under her influence? You get a job working for a Bishop or something? Usually they hire inside the church, although I can see the appeal of a winged agent. Why don't you ask your employer? Or are you thinking they won't tell you the truth?"
The male snorts into his pipe, making fire and sparks flare up. "Ye ain't insinuatin' that a member of Her Stickyfingersness clergy would lie now, are ye Prietess?" He barely manages to get it out before he bursts into laughter.
Mitzvy tries not to laugh but ends up peeling out some laughter as well.