"So, Master Gashon," Connor said, smiling back, "if I show you two ordinary jewels, one available locally and one only from the Icebound, do you think you can accumulate them in quantity? Quietly, over time? You'll have only one or two buyers, and only as often as skyships from the flying islands come around. One gemstone is merely an oddity but the other could be profitable to the right clients. People like us. Who would prefer trading with someone less...bloodthirsty than the orcs here. You're obviously more able to set up such a trading conduit than a group of deserters."
Connor paused. ::Gashon's over 400 years old. This Salishana is over a thousand? She might be able to tell us where the halflings went, for Sammark's sake.:: he sent to the others in the room. ::Or she might want word from relatives left on Atalantia. Or she might want to kill us for some ancient feud from Atalantia. What do you guys and gal think?::
::I'm intrigued. I think whatever we may find is potentially very useful information. Also I want to know what she wants with us. And why she of all the individuals we found recognized us for what we are, and not just some weird curiosity, bred by an eccentric noble.::
"Oh deary, I know exactly what happened to all the halflings. Haven't you heard about the Great War? A very foolish human attacked her own allies, and when the savage species banded together, she had no allies to stand with her. Unfortunately, my poor halflings were trampled by all the others who were fighting. The few who survived moved to the southern continent with the rest of their kin."
::All the more reason to get any details before we attempt to meet back with the Ashen twins and go South.:: Connor replied on Selvan's Net, still a little unnerved the godling was a constant, but benign, eavesdropper. ::As for her discovery of us, she had psionic servants or allies with her. Anyone who can detect psionics can recognize mindpower when they see it, even though we were disguising ourselves as magic-users.::
Connor held out an empty hand, and formed a small astral construct. Once the drone was crafted, he instructed it to go next door in the hallway and bring back his backpack. "I'll get the gems." he told Gashon. "I can go over hardness tests, clarity, and color with you. We call the gemstones mundane crystal and deep crystal. Mundane crystal is more common, and can be worked like metal by mastersmiths trained in its' properties. But deep crystal is special to us. We can 'charge' it with mindpower. So a crystal dagger can do as much damage as a greatsword, a light mace as much damage as a warhammer, and archers can break down stonework. Without magic."
When the astral construct came back, Connor retrieved the two jewels and showed them to the half-fiend. "We discovered these in the orcs' marketplace being sold as lesser-quality costume jewelry." he explained. "Mundane crystal is available here, in the Savatha desert. But someone from the Icebound is selling deep crystal fragments as trinkets. So you see the possible markup in price."
The large gnoll laughs hard, slapping one knee.
No deep crystal? Connor realized within his mind. His images of the Ashen Edge's and Ashen Blade's hulls filled to the brim with dark gemstones shattered. But the mundane crystal! "I was told the mundane crystal could be acquired from local oasis with foul water." he rebutted, chastised. "There's still a market for that, if you care to set up a supply for sale."
Connor sighed. "We might as well go anyway, and see what this Salishana wants." he told everyone. Connor looked at the shuttered window in the room, and the dimming light outside. "We still have two weeks, correct, Master Gashon? I'll be done with my crafting soon, but Reaghar still has a long list. So all we have to look forward to in the immediate future are more negotiations."
The large hyena seems to be in a good mood.
::Looking like a fool is better than our employer treating us as back-stabbing spies.:: Connor sent to the others in the room.
"Well, if you can find about four pounds of mundane crystal, that would be worth about what we agreed for my pay for this trip." Connor stated. "I would need access to a forge to make a staff like you saw that wolf-man with, however. And time to learn how to metalsmith the crystal." he finished, turning thoughtful.
::Yeah if only ever so slightly.::
"Feel free to refer to yourself as a target of paranoia to the magical demonic hyena if you like. I prefer looking the fool."
::You shouldn't take me so seriously all the time, Selvie::, Alys's mental voice has a mock motherly tone to it. ::Now, are we going to do this? I'm really itching to find out what the deal is with this elven woman.::
oh i thought you'd be over there for awhile. two long flights in quick succession, ouch. in 2007 i had to do two round trips from okinawa to missouri in a two-week time frame, THAT was terrible.
Well at least his sleep schedule hasn't had time to adjust. So there's that.
The next day, the Atalantian's troop through the city, Sammark riding on the backs of 4 summon creatures, to the Embassy of Ice. The building is a stark contradiction to the hot desert around it, as it's icy spires glisten in the desert sun.
Dozens of businesses have sprung up around it, taking advantage of the chill that oozes off the building complex. Several businesses advertise 'Cold Ale' or 'Cold Water' or 'Cold Juice', their walls adjacent to the walls of the embassy compound, with cooling units built against those icy walls.
The two guards at the gate, a pair of humanoids who are over 7 ft tall with sloped brows and heavy muscles look at the group, and then after checking with a slim looking female drow, allow the group to enter.
They are directed to the main building, they pass drow and non-drow elves (more of those sharp toothed slaves who look at the party as if they were chicken on the spit). They also see more of those white furred dog like humanoids walking around.
They are directed into a central dining area dominated by a large black stone table, forty feet long and 15 feet wide. Stone chairs surround it, the chair at the head of the table twice the size of the rest.
The walls are festooned with reliefs depicting drow, usually female, holding sway over other races and other elves and what are probably elves.
The group is shown to seats, which are chilly to say the least, the stone seems to absorb warmth. They would be unusable if there wasn't cushions on them to insulate the person sitting on it.
Finally, the ambassador arrives, wearing a very costly looking dress, that likely costs more due to the lack of cloth in it's making. Her two 'lap dogs' take up positions in the corner of the room.
"Ah, my thanks for meeting me. I hope it didn't disrupt your business too much." She says in fluent Elfavian.
As you walk around, you notice that some of the ice walls and blocks appear to have crystals embedded in them.
The crystals aren't crystals, they're bits of Elemental Ice, nothing on the material plane will ever melt Elemental Ice, only Elemental Fire can melt it.
After showing Gashon the gemstones, and how to recognize them and test them, Connor retired to his room, and started work on a new power stone.
I've had this on my Google Docs for a long time, but Connor does Power Stone #2 for Sammark. Power Stone of Vigor (4th), Force Screen, Entangling Debris, and Energy Missile (Electricity) (2) (900 gp, 12 pp, 6 powers). That leaves 312.50 gp's worth of crafting materials for Connor.
Reaghar, if he chooses, can do another Psionic Tattoo of Natural Healing (4pp, 12 hp), this one for Connor himself. That leaves him 950 gp's worth of crafting materials.
--------------------------
In the morning Connor gave Sammark another power stone. "This should round out the powers you can do." he told his friend.
Connor discussed tactics with everyone. "We have to presume the Black Ice Elves know everything about us and our mindpowers." he began. "We know they have psicrystals, so Hero can't be a fly on the wall this time. We don't have a telepath among us - assume they do. This Salishana will have us surrounded and at her mercy. So what does she want from us? News from home? To deliver a message? We have our magical necklaces of communication from Master Gashon." Connor fingered his necklace. "But assume magic is blocked inside as well."
Connor looked at each person. "It goes without saying we start no fights. The best case scenario is we arrive, exchange a few words, and return. As for who talks." Connor paused, then continued. "Let's keep Sammark as our hidden leader. Who knows, it might work. If Salishana starts talking to anyone preferenally, switch to Selvan's Net and let that person do the talking. We don't know what Wing-" The young Humavian coughed self-consciously and continued, "What these Black Ice Elves do and don't do with negotiations. So no active detection powers. But there's nothing wrong with being observant."
-------------------------
The Black Ice Elves' building was singularly impressive. ::High level, permanent magic, even against the constant elements.:: Connor sent to the others. ::We're always wading in waters over our heads.:: When they arrived, Connor had the constructs fold up and stack the empty palanquin after Sammark left it, leaving them as stationary guards.
Inside, Connor looked everywhere as they were led inside the magically-frozen building. ::Matriarchal society:: he observed. ::Maybe Alys should do the talking. Probably prejudiced against every other race, from the depictions.:: Connor did not like seeing the "wild" elves again. The wolf-men, psionic to boot, were bad enough.
When seated next to Sammark, Conner complained ::Never thought I'd be freezing my, er, feathers in the middle of a desert. These 'Icebound' like it cold.::
When Salishana entered, Connor let off a quick "Whoa! The Elves have all the luck, if they look like that after a thousand years!:: before he cut himself off, his face reddening.
::A couple hundred maybe, but even an elven face can't normally stave off the wrinklies in the four-digits.::
As the dark elf ammbassador greets them Alys composes herself. This is the situation she was raised to handle after all... or at least supposedly.
"We... wouldn't miss the opportunity of meeting the ambassador of the black ice elves. What gives us this honor?"
The woman laughs, a delicate sound. "Oh my, you've been talking to the locals. They can't really pronounce our name. So they call us the black ice elves." She motions, and a drow woman in an expensive, but somehow uniform like outfit, moves forward, and begins to pour warmed mead into mugs, starting with the ambassador's mug, and then moving to Alys's mug, before then moving to Selvans. Next, she serves Sammark, then Connor, and finally Reaghar's.
Once the servant is done, she moves back to the wall, and somehow vanishes into the ice as quickly as she materialized out of it. "We are the Aeternaliter Constringitur, the Eternally Frozen. Her eyes glow a strange icy blue. "Over a thousand years ago, our people were forced from our homes by the Humans, much like the one who accompanies you, only without wings. They banded together with the dwarves and the elves, and drove us out of our homes, to wander the icy wastes. To die, they thought. But we have not died, we have flourished. We have taken the spirit of ice into our hearts, which were cold to begin with, and we are one with it. The spiteful jealous dwarves were then in turn slaughtered by their human allies, the fools. And you've seen what the elves have been reduced to... It is as our Father has told us, they are a base creation, not worthy of his name or visage. They have devolved to ravenous creatures, only fit for slavery or target practice." She drinks her mead, the liquid dark on her lips, despite it's golden color. "It appears you and yours have managed to change your selves, to something more than mere elves..." She trails off, giving Sammark a look of pity. "Well, some of you have." She gives a slight smirk.
"Your people turned a tragedy into a story of success. That's a good thing, I suppose." Alys carefully sips the mead "As for the elves of the savanna, whatever happened to cause them to become like... this?"
Listening to Salishana made Connor more and more nervous. This was worse than circus-flying through hoops dipped in oil and ringed with tindertwigs. One feather out of place, and everything would explode.
One word of the explanation caught his attention. ::Anybody know a male religious figure among the Elves?:: he asked the others. ::Possibly ice-specific?:: And he hoped Elrohir, wherever he was, hadn't fallen prey to these salvage Wingless.
"Yes we did." She preens at the compliment, although the preening lessens with the second comment, about it being a good thing supposedly. When question is asked, she snorts delicately, and waves a hand negligently. "Their base nature came to the fore. Elves are really craven weak creatures, only able to pretend to civilization when they are not taxed, their lives not threatened on a daily basis. After their homeland's destruction, they fled to the northern woods, and killed anyone who saw them, to hide from the humans. After a few generations, they killed anything that came across them. After that, it was a short fall to just eat their enemies. Cannibalism is known to degrade the brains and bodies of those who practice it, so they have devolved into the wretched creatures they were all along, thrown off the fake trappings of civilization they aped."
"Oh, she's a priestess of Silvarin Nehadrin. He's the father of all drow and elves. He's not very happy with his elven children or his ex wife or goddling children. Misogynistic old beast he is. Won't have male priests, he likes to cavort with his priestesses, and he's not into boys. As much as he hates his wife and daughter, you'd expect him to enslave women, but he's the only one allowed to treat them like property. Go figure. Makes the drow pretty insane, their god hates women, but only allows women priestesses, so the whole race is ruled by the despised gender."
Perception
Selvan notes the crystals embedded into the ice and makes a mental note. "Temperature control? Security? Both? Comment on the crystals in the walls. Note the similiarities in us and play to vanity. Seriously, ego is overflowing out of this woman I may be wading in it soon. And avoid the second hand comments. That's my job."
Alys pauses for a moment, suppressing the urge to fill the pause with a drawn-out 'uhm' even her mental comments are silenced as she tries to piece together a slick response, "I suppose not all elves are made of the stuff to transcend their stock the way your people and mine did.", she looks around the room as she turns her mug in her hand.
::Time to ask what she wants of us.:: Connor suggested. He was still unsettled by Tenfa still accompanying them. Still, it could be worse. Like this dinner arrangement. ::It's obvious Salishana has all the magic and mindpower she wants. We can't do much other than rattle off some history lessons from the flying islands. So unless she's going to purchase a berth onboard the Ashen Edge as a diplomat, I'm with Selvan. Keeping quiet. You, too, Sammark. Just take the comments in stride.::
The drow nods, and smiles. "Exactly. My apologies if I've been rude to you, your people have obviously overcome the disadvantages The Whore gave you, and you should be proud of overcoming them. You are truly worthy specimens of The Father's blood." She takes a sip of wine, and again the woman appears from the wall of ice, carrying the wine bottle around, freshening up glasses.
Behind her are a half-dozen male drow, all shirtless, each carrying a heavy tray of steaming food. Each looks like his features were chiseled out of solid stone.
There are trays of meat, trays of fish, but also mushrooms, long strands of green plant, and a tray of unidentified fleshy plant like material. "Caribou, Seal, Char fish, Mushrooms, and Sea Weed. The plants are Arctic Sea Pickles, they grow only in sub-freezing salt water, they are very rich in citrus. Rather tart, but good." The priestess informs the group, as the men place their trays on the table. The drow men begin to place food on the plates of the diners, holding up their offerings on serving utensils and waiting to be beckoned to add it to the diner's plate. The priestess takes some of everything, although she seems to prefer the caribou, taking more of it than anything else.
When they are done, the servants again fade away into the wall. A few minutes of silence as the Priestess samples all her food. The food is rather tasty, although individual palates may differ on what is best.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I invited you. It's rather simple really. We encountered your kind several hundred years ago when a ship was destroyed by the dragons. We rescued the survivors after it crashed. We found flying ships fascinating, although the survivors were unsure how to make a flying ship itself. They did have all sorts of wonderful knowledge to pass on though. Several of them were even able to earn their freedom with their knowledge, and their descendants have managed to eek out a small clanship, although they've lost their wings, unfortunately. I've been trying to find a... shall we say... isolated... group of your kind ever since, but up until now, the closest I've come is the trading groups who deal with the Fashtali. Unfortunately, the felines and my people are not on friendly terms. That makes it difficult to contact anyone in their swamps." She takes another sip of wine, and eats a bit of food, letting that sink in.
"Your people and mine would be advantaged by a trade partnership. We already have knowledge of that which you would normally need to hide in a trade partnership, so that would make it easier on you. We also have access to what you call Deep Crystal, as you've seen. I'll provide you with some samples, of course, for you to take back. Obviously I don't believe the little tale of you deserting your ship. Anyone who's researched your people knows that's extremely unlikely. I've had a berth prepared at one of our trade cities, which I'll give you the location of before you leave. It's been waiting for a century for one of your ships to make port, it would be nice to have that investment pay off."
Connor took some of everything the male drow servitors were offering; while the individuals were close enough, he also looked into their eyes, trying to discern boredom, attention, mind control, or silent pleas.
A lost skyship crew? Connor wondered. If only he had a name to search the records with. A first-generation ship, obviously.
And more dismissal of their "cover". ::Kalvant 'tel Mintakia needs to work on his cover stories.:: Connor thought caustically thought Selvan's Net. ::Sammark, tell Salishana you left to find your wife, that will sound believable.:: When their hostess mentioned deep crystal, she had the young Humavian's attention. But Connor swallowed his questions with some more caribou and mushrooms, letting Alys do the talking.
::Now we have a tightrope act.:: Connor told the others, Selvan especially. ::Keep Gashon happy, break with Gashon, get back to the Ashen sisters, and convince the Captain of our mission and this new trade location with the drow. Which is probably north of here. Beyond the dragons.::
"And the mystery of the psionic capabilities is solved. Interbreeding plus a bit of trading of knowledge and you have all the foundations required to form a whole discipline. If I were a scholar instead of a soldier I'd be gushing at the possibilities of seeing how the disciplines have developed outside of their normal parameters. We don't have the formal authority to guarantee anything, she should already know that. So no promises. Still, finding a new trade partner is every bit as advantageous as we can ask for. She gets credit for opening, heh, warm negotiations with an exotic and advanced people. This journey becomes immediately profitable to the various investors of this trip. All in all a win for everyone. Though, I wonder what the catch is..."
Selvan abstained form the wine but ate heartily. Good meals like this are rare these days.
"That story really only seems to work with people with whom it hardly matters what we tell them. Except maybe that big cheese Orc, but then with what Gashon was serving him, he might as well just have told him we are angels and fairies on a sightseeing tour." noticing herself trailing off, Alys turns back to the priestess. "Anyway, we might be able to arrange negotiations."
The woman snorts. "Well, I'm sure it works with the rabble that run the governments around here. They don't notice anything that doesn't directly affect their coin purse. Unless you hit them in the face with it.. repeatedly. People like Gashon and I wouldn't be who we are if we accepted things at face value. For example, at face value, you are simple lowly crewmen from Atlancia, probably sizing up the cats to see if they're worth either trading with, or conquering. Plus you're likely sizing up the dragons. However, it's obvious to someone like me that you're spies, and well placed spies at that. Normal Atlancian grunts would never be allowed out with artifact level psionic items. I have to be honest with you, I was sorely tempted to just kill you and take those artifacts. But, I think in the long run, trade would be more beneficial." She grins, showing off gleaming white teeth in a feral grin that would make Gashon proud.
"Artifact level? Oh no. I think our little ghost bug is attracting big spiders."
Connor echoed Selvan's comment in puzzlement. ::Artifacts? Us?:: He wracked his mind on their inventory. ::Does she mean our tattoos and power stones?:: The drow had psicrystals, and magic galore... ::They have no mindcrafters!:: Connor realized. What was merely talent and employment opportunity to Atalantians must be rare to the Eternally Frozen. But it made sense. The shipwrecked crew could not repair their airship because they didn't know how, and without knowledge passed down from parent to child, even the minimal primary schooling they all had, like "Guild Week", crafting must have been lost for psionic items.
Which meant all the psionics around them had no power stones, tattoos, or dojre, or even wondrous items. Everything was their daily mindpowers, without storage. They backed up what little they had with powerful magic, of course. And the reason they were so willing to spread deep crystal around so freely, a "honey trap" for the unwary was...because they had no weaponsmiths and armorers to turn the crystal into weapons and armor!
::They will want crafting knowledge above all else!:: Connor excitedly told everyone on Selvan's Net. ::Imagine warehouses full of mundane and deep crystal, but no one who can put it on a forge. No one who can make power stones or tattoos or...:: Connor quieted his "voice", allowing the others to mindspeak. The young Humavian realized something else - he and Reaghar would be worth more as prisoners than spies or diplomats, if Salishana knew their abilities.
Connor wondered if he should have made so many power stones for everyone. The jewels were hanging around their necks and on their forearms like priceless items of legend to these people.
The rest of the meal continues along, with the woman asking what seem like simple questions. If you miss your family, did you enjoy your trips so far, things like that.
Int check.
The dinner goes fairly well, but after another hour or so of wine and food and chat, the dinner finally winds up.
The ambassador seems mildly annoyed with most of the group, but only mildly, and seems pleased with Alys.
The ambassador gives Alys a scroll with her wax seal on it that entitles the bearer to dock, free of charge, in any port in the Serin Wastes.
As you leave the embassy, you are given small gifts by the Ambassador.
Upon reutrning, Goshin is in a good mood, he seems to have used your visit to the embassy to further his own interests. He even informs the group that he's concluded his business early, if they would like to go back early. He'll be ready to leave in 2 days, if they are done with their scouting. If not, he can take a few days off, he says he hasn't taken a few days off in about 30 years.
Connor was, of course, polite during the rest of the dinner and during the dismissal. He also used his Autohypnosis to memorize as many people, and possible items of interest, as possible.
Going back was with astral constructs holding Sammark in the palanquin again.
----------------------
The first thing Connor did when they all returned to the inn was give the gift from Salishana an intense detect psionics, even to the point of causing a tension headache from the effort alone. This was while the astral constructs folded up the palanquin, before he even went inside the building. ::Selvan, Sammark, Reaghar - check yourself for possible magic items.:: Connor sent over Selvan's Net. ::Trust in our dinner host is one thing. But she already admitted to avarice over our 'artifacts'. Gashon's necklace is a minor magical benefit for communication. I'd rather not have more tattle-tales or trackers attached to us by other parties.::
"Oh, deary, you're not very well versed in magic are you. You probably all lost a few hairs while there. I'm sure they managed to pluck a few unnoticed. I certainly know my clergy would do such to visitors of importance, for later scrying, should it become necessary. It's probably best to assume she can scry on you anytime you are not protected from such."
Alys, who sits on a table, inspects her piece of jewelry with all the skill and trained eyes of a farmer: ::Let's make sure we're all wearing hairnets next time we talk to anyone then. Doe we have a way of noticing when she does, or should we keep all conversations to telepathy now?::