"Avmarian please, hot if possible, and a spicy darter dish, if you have anything spicy." He replies, thinking it over. After she leaves, he shrugs. "Not really wanting to get buzzed tonight, so I'll stick with the Avmarian." He explains to the rest of the table.
Magnus' eyes light up. "Oh! Do you do an orange glaze? I do like a nice crispy orange-glazed Darter. That would be great! IF not then a spicy darter like his would be good too. Thanks" Magnus says, chucking a thumb at Erick.
Once the waitress leaves to fill their orders, Magnus leans in.
"Seems like the rumors are true so far. Lizardfolk attacking, even though they normally wouldn't, and tales of undead armies. Well. At least this trip shouldn't be boring!" He grins.
Erick shakes his head. "Boring is a good thing. I wish I had a platinum crown for everytime some idi... person wanted excitement and then got their guts spilled by the excitement they wanted."
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Magnus winks at Erick, no offense seemingly taken as far as his face tells.
"Now I never said that boring was BAD. Necessarily. I just find excitement so much more,... exciting." The elf grins.
The waitress returns with their orders. The fare is passing good, and the drinks aren't watered.
Magnus takes a long tug at his pint, and sets it down with a satisfied little smile.
"Ah Yes, That'll do!" he declares happily.
"Had worse, had better..." Erick comments after tasting both. "More of the former than the latter though. So give the cook my compliments." He tells the waitress. He pours a finger full of the hot saki into the small bowl cup that comes with it, and sips.
"I have been well compensated for my work," Kessel says to the waitress, "And with no home or hearth to which to maintain I have to spend my money on material comforts. I suppose as the others are eating I shall have a dish of the gumbo as well."
Kessel pays for his drink and meal, though he clearly dislikes handling coin, but Kessel finds a few extra silvers for the lady serving him.
"If it's not the lizzard folk's way, and these stories of undead are, as you say, boojam, what would have been the source of these attacks? Have you heard talk of a 3rd party?"
"Hmm, in general, undead are usually created by someone. They don't normally spring up without mortal influence, or at least something that previously was mortal, such as a lich. Look for someone buying a lot of Onyx, it's required for must undead raising rituals that I know of. If you find undead and there are dead animals near them, usually that means they are uncontrolled, and therefore attack all living things. On the other hand, if they've ignored animals, then they are almost certainly bound to someone, and have been ordered to ignore animals. I knew a druid who always scouted undead in animal form to avoid being attacked... 'course I also knew a lynx that had been awakened that did the same thing." Erick responds, adding some salt to his dish. "Sounds like you're going up river to investigate some bad doings then? I have business in the Blue Hills myself, if you'd care for company along the way. Sounds like it might be dangerous for awhile, if there's undead running about."
"Huh. Maybe the two ARE related? As in, the rumors are ALL true?"
Magnus takes another pull of his grog, then reaches for a chicken leg.
"Think about it. Perhaps the Lizard folk are attacking, even though it isn't their usual way, because they've been forced into it due to increased undead activity. If that's true, we may solve two problems with one solution. Yes?"
"Of course that still leaves the slight problem of finding the reason and source of any actual undead. There are SO many little pockets of the 'metabolically challenged' strewn about the landscape, tracking down any single collection of them may be the biggest puzzle of them all."
Magnus smiles at something, and snorts a laugh.
"With any luck, this 'Massive Undead Uprising' will turn out to be some poor sap that opened a tomb with a dozen zombie guards. But in order to save face, or because he was scared spitless, in the telling it increased to army proportions."
"Of course, I would never exaggerate the tales of my own adventures in that way." He adds straight faced. Then takes another long pull of his Pint.
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"Even a dozen zombies can be great trouble for the people there, but I suspect they have enough experience of undead attacks to tell the difference between a dozen and an army. Even if exaggerated, There will still be a significant number. I don't know enough about lizardmen to hazard a guess as to their motive, but Magnus's suggestion sounds possible. If we can show them that the undead problem is eliminated, they may well go back to their normal hunting grounds and leave the settlers in peace."
"IF there really is an army, then you're looking for a lot of necromancers, or else something has an artifact, letting them control more than they should. Even the best necromancer can only control a handful of undead at a time."
"IF there really is an army, then you're looking for a lot of necromancers, or else something has an artifact, letting them control more than they should. Even the best necromancer can only control a handful of undead at a time."
"Yes. Thank goodness for small favors." Magnus replies softly but earnestly, a rare, serious look upon his face.
It is quickly replaced with Magnus' usual, cheerful, grin.
"As my instructors used to tell me, 'You can only burn one bridge at a time.' Or something like that. I really wasn't paying attention. FIRST we find,... whatever it is,... THEN we deal with it. With extreme prejudice if necessary."
Magnus salutes, including both Erick and Blake in the general wave of his mug.
"I for one do not mind sharing the trip with other experienced trouble-shooters. I get to hear more stories for one thing!" The elf grins and drains his mug, then waves it in the air to attract the barmaid's attention.
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San awakens from a long nap and notices most of the others gone. Assuming Citlali is still there, he'll give her a wink and say, "C'mon darlin'. Let's go see where our elven friend and the bard got off to." Of course, he'll gravitate to the closest tavern or watering hole to look first ...
Kessel thinks for a moment as the others chat, wracking his brain on what he he remembers about Xoltec Empire, but sadly this was not his part of the world, and so only the the strangest tales came from this exotic land.
"I seem to remember hearing tales about this Xoltec Empire, they used undead armies and servants, vast amounts, probably through some sort of relic or artifact, because the empire collapsed in but a single night, they called it the Night of the Bloody Bones if I recall, as their undead creations turned on them." Kessel says, "I wish I could remember more, but local politics is usually a bard's bread and butter, and history from exotic lands is more of a traveling storyteller's gig. Certainly we follow the histories of the world, but usually to explain how our local patron's deeds excel those of distant lands or how his enemies are comparable to villains from some alien land. Undead armies was never much a problem in the Dragon Isles, it a shame too, lots of good rhymes with Xoltic.
"Hmm, if we can find a Tome Chapter House along the way, I'm reasonably certain I can look up some more information."
"Surely the riverboat crew will know if there is a chapterhouse on the way? We needs must hope that the boats scheduled stops coincide with it." Magnus grins, saluting with his now refilled mug, and spearing another piece of chicken with his dagger.
"Well, entirely speculation, but suppose it were mystic artifacts that built that empire, and suppose someone discovered the secrets to whatever arcane relics these ancients were using and repaired them? Suppose these ancient Xoltic rulers weren't destroyed, rather just killed, and now, for whatever reason, they've returned to work their conquest again? The past has a way of coming back to haunt the present."
Egan as usual, spends much of his time outside awaiting the next destination and feeding and training Whisperwing. He only comes inside to make sure everyone is safe and happy, and to have a large glass of mixed fruit juice.
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"Hah! While we are supposing, let's suppose the moon is made of cheese and the Sea Wolves aren't dangerous. Personally, I prefer reality to supposition. Keeps you grounded. If I find that there is an ancient artefact or the Xoltec rulers have returned, We will deal with it, but until then let's just keep to what we know. That's enough to deal with for now, without borrowing troubles that may not be real."
"I suspect that the local chapter house, different order, would know if there are any of mine up the river. I'll stop in on the early morrow before we ship out and ask."
"Hah! While we are supposing, let's suppose the moon is made of cheese and the Sea Wolves aren't dangerous. Personally, I prefer reality to supposition. Keeps you grounded. If I find that there is an ancient artefact or the Xoltec rulers have returned, We will deal with it, but until then let's just keep to what we know. That's enough to deal with for now, without borrowing troubles that may not be real."
Magnus laughs and salutes Blake with his mug.
"Well said! After all, we can only burn one bridge at a time! Or something like that,..." Magnus shrugs and takes another pull of his mug.
The corner of Kessel's mouth twitches at Blake's comments. The bard calmly finishes his drink with a single gulp and stands, pulling coin out for the waitress, and tossing it unceremoniously on the center of the table.
"You say you're not interested in history," Kessel says glaring at Blake, "I presented two scenarios explaining how the past may well be relevant here, and you laugh it off spouting utter unfounded, unrelated, nonsense. It may well be that these tales of undead are just that, tales, but should there be any truth I find it worrisome these unnatural creatures should spawn in the very center of a fallen civilization that was once know for such dark magic. I have always found the annals of history hold many lessons about not only the possibilities, limits, and follies of great civilizations but also a greater understanding of people who were part of the making of such civilization. It speaks to the proclivities and very nature of the people who came before us and people don't change, only technology. It's been said that those that don't study history are doomed to repeat it. That is mistakes made then will still be made now if we fail to learn from their example. Now you may well be content to wallow in your own ignorance but learning, sir, is my life's work and I will not sit here and have it mocked.
"Gentlemen," Kessel says turning to his other companions, "If you'll excuse me, Magnus, Erick, I find myself wanting to be elsewhere, perhaps we'll speak more on the ship, especially should you find anything at your chapter house. I'd be most interested to hear what they've got to say about these rumors and tales from our destination."
Kessel then turns and leaves.
San and Citlali see the group at the Two Rabbit temple. They approach and sit with the group
Thenight is rollicking, and there is a bard of some sort doing a hack job on a piano. The crowd sings along to what the group can only image are the local drinking songs
I left my love at the river's edge
I bade her wait for me
For I was bound for Opal
To sail the Eastern Sea
I sailed to bright Viridian
I sailed to far Kashent
I sailed to distant waters
That few have ever went
When I returned
An older man
With a bag of gold I'd saved
My love she did still wait for me
But it was in her grave
Erick puts a couple of coppers in the bard's hat when it comes around.
Magnus joins in, although he seems more interested in flirting with the waitress than in singing. He has a pleasant tenor voice. When he actually tries to sing on key.
The magus adds a few coppers to the hat as well. If looked at when he isn't trying to be the center of attention, he seems to be enjoying the sight of the others having fun, at least as much as he seems to be having fun himself when he IS trying to be the center of attention.
After a night of drinking the group returns to the boat. The night is sultry, and the various cries of the local dinosaurs can be heard in the surrounding jungles.
As the last of them boards there is a low grumble of thunder. Selene, Arcaia's primary moon had been casting her blue light down on the jungle, but now a roiling mass of clouds blot her out.
Erick frowns. "Damn, looks like I'll get wet in the morning." He flags down whoever is in charge of the boat. "What time do we leave in the morning? If possible, I'd like to hit the local chapterhouse before we leave."
The mate on night watch grimaces
"Cap'n said at dawn. We might not be though, if that storm whips up."
Erick nods. "Well, I would like to hit the chapterhouse, but I won't wish a storm on us to do it. Please let me know in the morning if we are staying in port to avoid the storm, and I'll go on in to visit."
"Rain always makes me want to sleep in." Magnus slurs conversationally to whomever in the group is listening.
"S' fun to dance in too. IF you have the right dance partner." He chuckles with a waggle of his eyebrows.
As they group makes their way back onto the craft, Magnus goes on to weave a brief, implausible tale of an adventure where he was trapped in a fairy ring, caught by a freak storm conjured by fae who happened to be fond of dancing in the rain. He only managed to escape by dancing with them until even their magics could not maintain the rainstorm.
Kessel would definitely tell it better, (and make it more believable), but the story is, mildly, entertaining at least. And blessedly brief.
As dawn approaches the storm breaks. Wind and rain lash down incessnatly. The crew busies itself keeping the water from overtopping the boat. Captain Petrucchio makes the descision not to head off just yet.
"We'll stay another day"
Erick comes on deck wearing a long leather coat over his armor, and a large leather hat with a wide brim. The two are soaked in an oil like substance regularly, and so the slick leather sheds water before it can soak in, leaving him mostly dry despite the heavy rain. "Thanks Captain, I'll be in town then." He shuffles down the plank, motions careful on the wet wood.
Magnus nods approval at Erick's weather gear, but seemingly on a lark emerges dressed in light clothing that immediately gets soaked and plasters itself to his skin. As the rain hammers the small craft, He leaps about lightly, unarmored and unencumbered by weapons, helping where he can, but mostly observing what is happening and staying out of the way.
Anyone who watches him for more than a moment realizes that he is not moving randomly, but instead seems to be following some obscure martial dance of moves, as taught by some of the fighting schools.
Erick heads back into the squalling rain towards the town. He comes to the chapterhouse, which is now open. He opens the door and finds himself in a spacious foyer with a desk and a young man in breastplate and leather armor seated behind it. Above him is a mural of Quetzalcoatl in coatl form. Under the mural is the legend:
Order of the Plumed Serpent
THe young man starts, clearly not expecting visitors this early
"Can I help you?"
Erick gives a sardonic grin, and takes his hat off, letting the water sluice off it. He stamps his feet a few times, to get more water to shed on the entry way carpet, so as not to track it through the building. Then he unbuttons the coat, and shows his Order of the Tome crest. "Morning, son. Sorry to bother you so early, but you were closed when we docked last night. Names Erick Bonestihl, Order of the Tome. Thought I'd check in with your chapterhouse, given there doesn't seem to be a Tome chapterhouse in town. Was hoping to get some information from a fellow order. I assume the Tome and the Serpent are still on good terms? No inter-order conflict while I was on a boat?" He asks good-naturedly.
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Despite the rain, Blake is fully aware that there are plenty of jobs to do on board; coiling and stowing ropes, swabbing the decks, painting pitch, etc. He sets himself the task of assisting as and when he can, careful not to get in the Captain's way , and engaging the sailors in quiet conversation as and when he can.
Erick gives a sardonic grin, and takes his hat off, letting the water sluice off it. He stamps his feet a few times, to get more water to shed on the entry way carpet, so as not to track it through the building. Then he unbuttons the coat, and shows his Order of the Tome crest. "Morning, son. Sorry to bother you so early, but you were closed when we docked last night. Names Erick Bonestihl, Order of the Tome. Thought I'd check in with your chapterhouse, given there doesn't seem to be a Tome chapterhouse in town. Was hoping to get some information from a fellow order. I assume the Tome and the Serpent are still on good terms? No inter-order conflict while I was on a boat?" He asks good-naturedly.
The young man smiles
"Of a certainty. I believe there is a Tome chapterhouse upriver at Fort Trevins involved with some of the translation of Xoltec manuscripts. What information were you interested in?"