"We've much to do, but surely you can appreciate discretion on our own part, yes?" Vosk says, returning the remorseful smile, yet holding a twinkle of mischievousness in his eyes. Must keep our own cards close to our chest! Can't go telling everyone our plans, now can we?
Bowing deeply, he bids the Patrician farewell. "Have a most pleasant day, I hope we have the opportunity to meet under alternative circumstances." Turning on his heel, the large man strolls out of the building where he waits for his companions.
"I apologize for not mentioning this earlier, but I did notice an unusually frothy flock of gulls over that way," he says pointing in the direction from earlier. "Perhaps we can indulge my curiosity as we search for the other half of our motley crew?"
|
With a brisk nod of her head, Professor Masaendri takes her leave of the Patrician.
"I apologize for not mentioning this earlier, but I did notice an unusually frothy flock of gulls over that way," he says pointing in the direction from earlier. "Perhaps we can indulge my curiosity as we search for the other half of our motley crew?"
"Seagulls?" Really? Distraction and procrastination. "I suppose if it is on our way, though I see no reason to detour or delay for a bunch of birds."
|
|
Outvoted, Professor Masaendri maintains a mask of professionalism as she follows the two men towards the flock of seagulls. She muses absently to assuage her sour mood: What are the odds that I will be able to find and interview Johnathan Livingston Seagull on this fool's errand?
A woman with a cane walks out of the back room and visibly starts as she spots the visitors. She pushes her dark curly hair out of her face and squints through her reading glasses, though her olive complexion doesn't suggest that she's past her late twenties. "Sorry, I was expecting someone else. Welcome to the Arnisant museum. I'm the curator, Cincia Reviamo. Please take your time and look around, but be sure to sign the guest book before you leave." She gestures towards a large open tome on a stand nearby, a quill and inkpot conveniently stationed nearby. "What brings you here today?"
Suddenly, the front door opens and three familiar Pathfinders come inside. The curator looks at the newcomers with alarm, then relief. "Oh, hello again! You're back much sooner than I expected. Did you have a chance to talk with everyone?"
Inside the museum, a familiar-looking trio (and wolf) stand talking with Cincia. The curator looks at the newcomers with alarm, then relief. "Oh, hello again! You're back much sooner than I expected. Did you have a chance to talk with everyone?"
|
Gorrig spreads his arms wide. "Friends! Glad we're all back together. Judging by those birds outside, you've had a much more exciting time than we have. You'll have to tell all about that."
He turns to Cincia. "Just Neffrey, actually. But he gave us a lead-- his family's chandlery, which Vernisant has also confiscated for his own use."
"So," he says to Team DTB. "What have you been up to?"
Vosk points hesitantly at the gulls. "Are we just not going to address the flock of flying rats waiting for the door to open? What the hell happened? Has anything of merit transpired on your end?" he asks, fearing he already knows the answer to his last question. On the bright side, that statue will probably be improved with a fresh coat of white and black!
|
Bocke signs the guestbook and takes a look to see who else has been here.
There's a big muddy paw-print, under someone named: "Owata Gooz Siam"
Looking over at Droo, Bocke would see her smiling pointing to herself with her thumb, and then sticking up an index finger to indicate the number one, while mouthing the word "first". Then she would give Bocke an exaggerated wink--if he looks her way that is.
"Very well, out the back door then?" Vosk suggests before turning to Cincia expectantly. "If we are going to delay this conversation anyways, I insist we have it over a small bite to eat."
________
At the professor's suggestion, the Pathfinders take their leave of Cincia. Vosk remembers seeing a bakery on the way to the museum and guides the group there. The stout stone building is mostly taken over by the kitchen, but a few chairs and tables in the front room serve as a place to eat fresh breads and simple pastries (though the sweltering heat from the ovens reaches even out here).
With a moment to catch their breath, the Pathfinders share their intel and plan their next course of action.
In the bakery, Vosk does everything in his power to become the best of friends with the baker. After his usual friendly and touchy greeting, he straightens the ponytail on his balding head and slaps down a pair of gold pieces. "Pastries, as many as this will get me," he says warmly with a genuine smile. "Oh, and a stale loaf if you have it. We'll be taking a lesiurely stroll with the birds after this."
He takes a seat at an adjacent table with his tray of pastries pilled high and begins to dig in. Delicately, he inspects, smells, samples, then eats each one, appreciating every ounce of joy in every single bite. Between each pastry, he wipes his hands and mouth, cleanses his palate, and conducts the ritual again.
Between one of his intense, borderline intimate, pastry eating sessions, he joins the conversation. "Well, you will be please to know that we made productive use of our time. We have leads and even took action on one. Tonight, we have commitments, so don't double-book yourselves this time, ok? Good old fashioned Bacon and Eggs," he says a little condescendingly.
"Let's see those damn gulls and be on our way," he says with finality before continuing to dominate the mountain before him.
________
"Bacon and Eggs" is a code for "B and E", otherwise known as "Breaking and Entering."
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Professor Maeaendri is thoroughly exasperated by Vosk's selfish gluttony. She snaps at him waspishly: "For the gods' sake, Mr. Lazav, I am sure I have never before known a baker to make a sweetened pastry that tasted like bacon and eggs! Now, if we were to discuss our business in private, perhaps a bakery with other people around would not be an ideal venue. Now then! We stopped by the ship's chandlery and spoke with Patrician Patrician Neffery Adimare. We will discuss the content of our conversation in due time. The other leads we have are to visit Rasvelg, the head of the shipwright’s guild, who is usually found down by the wharf, and finally Joleana Tantriano, who is the senior magistrate. She is the one to ask about any legalities that might...interest us." As she goes into the details (as much as she is willing to with the baker's ears so near), her tone and expression smooth over into pure, brisk, professionalism.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Vosk continues to enjoy his latest pastry, an exquisite pain aux chocolat. After what might feel like an eternity for him to get through, he wipes his hands and mouth clean. "Your lack of discretion in the professional setting is simply unnerving. Considering the fragility of the situation our employer has aligned us with, I never suspected you to be the one to jeopardize it all with loose lips," he says calmly through a face beginning to burn red. I expected this sort of thing from the excitable Gnome, or the unnecessarily blunt Half-Orc, but from the Professor?! For someone so intent on asserting her dominance over others, I never would have suspected such a low-level understanding of the delicacy of the situation.
Turning to Bocke with a calculated slowness, he continues, the extra color in his face starting to dim. "As our associate has lectured, with what I'm afraid is her strongest teacher voice to ensure the entire bakery is aware, we are having Bacon and Eggs tonight at the chandlery. However, evidently, we should resume this conversation in private so others don't have to strain themselves." After cleansing his palate, he pushes the tray away.
"I've lost my appetite. I'll simply have to save these for later." Anger has a way of leaving a rather unpleasant aftertaste in the floor of the mouth. Muddles the flavor of the pastry. A pity. After delicately wrapping each one in their own handkerchief and storing them in his bag, he pushes away from the table and waits for the others outside.
________
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
After cleansing his palate, he pushes the tray away.
"I've lost my appetite. I'll simply have to save these for later."
|
|
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Her face hardening at being reprimanded in such a manner by one whose behavior is so decidedly inconsistent (one moment impressive, the next disappointing), Professor Masaendri's lips press into a thin line. With ramrod straight posture, she sits and glares daggers at Vosk as he speaks. The fury in her mind makes it hard to think straight for a time, but shortly after he takes his leave she comes to the realization that he was absolutely correct. She had misinterpreted his well-justified intent, but was so prideful of her centuries of superior education that she failed to understand the basics of that discrete communication. She closes her eyes for a few minutes to finish calming herself, then rises to go apologize to him.
Once outside, she takes a deep breath before marching directly up to Vosk. Her body language is stiff and stilted, but once she begins speaking it is clear that is only because she finds it difficult to admit her wrongdoing. "Mr. Lazav, a word if you please. I must apologize for my outburst earlier. I had made the mistake of misinterpreting your intent. It was unprofessional of me to respond as I did. I humbly beg your forgiveness."
|
|
"What is it we're after?"
"Trying to track down those lost relics," Gorrig responds. "There's a shipwright named Rasvelg we'd like to talk to, but haven't yet because we wanted to get Patrician Adimare's take first. Adimare pointed us to his chandlery, which he says has also been commandeered by Vernisant so it's good place to start. Hopefully, Rasvelg will say the same thing."
"What was it you were after?"
Vosk looks at the Professor with a blank face as she approaches and it isn't until her intent is clear that it softens. "Forgiveness granted, but, please, begging does your ridged back no favors. I expected more class from you," he snips, although there is little he can do to stop the smirk that cracks his formerly stony face.
"I know our... styles aren't exactly... congruent, so how can I physically express my forgiveness and delight at working together once more? My gut," he explains, rubbing his ample girth with two hands, "tells me we should hug, but I'm certain your heart may yield..." he trails off with a wink.
"Once the others are ready, we'll make our way to the wharf!"
|
|
"...Interesting." At least, it will be interesting only if his theory proves correct. "In any case, it is time we investigate our other leads, unless anyone has a specific reason to delay?" Professor Masaendri arches an eyebrow, almost daring someone to pipe up with a reason to procrastinate, before turning to march with stately dignity toward the wharf.
Their news shared and purposes aligned, the Pathfinders depart for the docks. The sounds of bustling carts and screaming gulls mix with the smell of riverwater and fish guts to create a... welcoming experience.
Cincia's directions lead to an office building overlooking the wharf, where a frazzled secretary informs Vosk that "Rasvelg's out working today - third ship to the right as you leave the building." Following his instructions, the group find themselves at a dry-docked ship with the words "Wis- -an's Fol-" barely legible on the stern. From underneath, a barely-audible stream of muttering stops at Gorrig's greeting. A broad man pulls himself out, his tall frame unfolding as he dusts off his hands on sturdy trousers and stands. "Yes? What is it this ti- Oh no, not you again!" He crosses his arms over his plain shirt and vest and glares at Droo, Bocke, and Theld.
|
|
Hmm... There could be something to that theory after all. Unless they always watch people in hopes of easy food, of course.
"Oh no, not you again!"
Professor Masaendri simply arches an eyebrow at the three Pathfinders in question. The stern expression she gives them disdainfully communicates the question she does not deign to ask aloud: *What* did you *do?*
~gurgle, gurgle~
Of all the people in this town, HE is the one you manage to piss off in the first thirty minutes? The smile on Vosk's face never falters. "Oh my! It seems like you've already met some of my latest and incredibly temporary associates! Please, allow me to introduce myself, I am Vosk Lazav, at your service," he says with an outstretched hand, his deep connection with the human condition informing him that now is perhaps the time to restrain his tendency to be physical.
"If you've but a few moments, we have some questions to ask you," he explains. Hopefully this isn't a non-starter...
________
|
|
Hmm... What did they do? --Focus on the task at hand! Momentarily distracted by the seagulls' odd behavior, the Professor snaps herself back as Vosk begins his introduction. "And I am Professor Masaendri, from The Academy of Magic in Iadara." In lieu of a hand shake, she respectfully bows her head to Rasvelg.
"Oh, come on. We were just trying to help, you know."
"Aye, your 'help' cost me more than it saved." Rasvelg's frown doesn't lift. "Maybe you adventurous types should think before you act."
"Oh my! It seems like you've already met some of my latest and incredibly temporary associates! Please, allow me to introduce myself, I am Vosk Lazav, at your service," he says with an outstretched hand, his deep connection with the human condition informing him that now is perhaps the time to restrain his tendency to be physical.
The head of the shipwright's guild looks down at Vosk's smooth hand, and his frown deepens. "Questions, huh? You look like you've never worked a day in your life." he finally comments. "A lot like the good Earl. He'll stop and talk your ear off about his heroic ancestry, given half the chance, but you'll never see him lift a hammer to actually do something." Rasvelg very much looks like he would like to spit, but restrains himself. "Well, I'm half Ulfen, but does that make me a linnorm king? Unlike Vernisant, I'm only worth what I can do. I keep the ships afloat. So what can you do?" Arms still crossed over his broad chest, he looks down at the Pathfinders.
|
|
Theld levels a steel-eyed glare at the man. The words that follow are slow, clipped and specific. "I'm. No. Officer. I. Work. For. A. Living." He holds his gaze a moment longer to ensure the man he knows the offence he has laid upon the soldier. "The Earl sounds like Duke Forath." Theld spits a wad of phlegm to the ground. "Useless fop."
|
"Aye, your 'help' cost me more than it saved." Rasvelg's frown doesn't lift. "Maybe you adventurous types should think before you act."
"You speak of not working a day in your life, but, in the real world, you can't be afraid of making mistakes. I don't apologize for making things worse."
Bocke's tone shifts from polite and accommodating to defensive.
"We adventuring types are skilled in many ways. Chasing these flying rats off your fish apparently isn't one of them. We can offer another skill, or we can find answers to our questions another way."
|
|
Oh, brother. The chip on this one's shoulder is so deep it's a wonder his arm hasn't fallen off. Setting aside her wry musing, the Professor attempts to salvage this mutually frustrating situation. Of course, she does this with all the tact of a sourpuss with no patience for the folly of children.
"I assure you that, despite our different backgrounds, the Pathfinder Society vets each of its applicants; each of us has passed muster. There is more than one way to be useful, after all. Now, we can all stand around posturing and bickering, or we can get to the point. The questions we have regard the Earl you esteem so "highly". We received a tip that you would be a good person to talk to if we want an unvarnished, honest understanding of his character and behavior." Her slightly raised eyebrows communicate an imperious demand of immediate compliance.
Rasvelg nods appreciatively as Theld speaks. "Aye, it's hard work keeping people safe and fighting," he replies. "Not quite like the bilge rats in the navy, but close enough if you squint."
"You speak of not working a day in your life, but, in the real world, you can't be afraid of making mistakes. I don't apologize for making things worse."
"Oh, I can't be afraid of making mistakes?" The shipwright gestures at the drydocked ship behind him. "I should just eyeball everything and slap some pitch over the holes and when the husbands and wives come to ask me why the ship carrying their spouses broke apart and sank on a clear day, I should just tell them that I'm not afraid of making mistakes!?" This time he does spit - a sizable globule to match Theld's. "Measure twice, cut once. Someone you could keep in mind." He glares past the inquisitor at the gnome seated on her wolf.
"Now, unvarnished and honest opinions I have by the ship-full, he continues after the professor and Gorrig add their two coppers. "But I'm very busy working out how I'm going to repair this carrack without just building a whole new ship. These captains don't come to me until the only that's fixed is their budget. And the more questions I answer, the less time I have to work." He sighs. "I don't suppose any of you know something useful about sailing or carpentry?"