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"...you aren't even listening anymore, are you? Well, uhm, point proven. If you can't handle one story without running away you'll have some issues managing several servants... I think? The others are right, anyway. If it's friends that you want, there are probably better ways to make those, I'm told."
"Not to be, uhm, finicky, but you did announce you'd be turning us all into corpses. It is only natural we would return the notion. I mean, but before they could venture into the vast and merciless desert, the Pathfinders stopped by a traveling spice merchant, who smelled like a particular combination of his merchandise..." As Iddo continues his tale, he weaves a few incantations and arcane gestures into his storytelling, attempting to cast a sleep spell () at the Tempest Monarch.
Iddo attempts to hide under the closest rock outcropping, clutching his green hat while avoiding as much of the acid cloud as possible. "Right, so uhm, just in case this doesn't go well for us and you attempt to enslave me, here's a sample of my mediocre storytelling. Ahem. So, 'twas a cloudless Sarenith day in the Pathfinder Lodge of Sothis, and a group of adventurers had assembled by a hot-tempered entrance guard..."
"Oh, that's very kind of you to not, uhm, immediately attempt to eat us, dragon sir. I'm not sure about you being my new master and swearing fealty to you and all that, though. Really, I'm not very useful for anything other than storytelling... and even then, I'd run out of stories to tell real quick, and uhm, the ones I already have aren't that great anyway."
Though Iddo spends most of the cruise inspecting the bioluminescent algae and its reflections in the water and on the cavern walls, his reflexes are apparently not impeded as he quickly squats into the boat, grabbing on tightly both to his seat and to his hat. As soon as the boat settles down, he looks out at his allies who couldn't grab on in time. "Hey, get back in here! I, uhm, know that wasn't the most interesting story, but you didn't have to jump ship to escape it!"
Iddo stares at the maps and books for a moment before starting to flip through them, groaning loudly when it becomes clear they are mostly waterlogged. "Still could be worth taking back to Absalom, right? I bet some of the more experienced Pathfinders there can, uhm, undo the damage, or see what they can make of this anyway."
"Well all you had to do was ask, Jyrrar. I mean, uhm, it was at that very moment that Jacinth the nimble slashed her gleaming dagger across the final zombie's chest, bringing it back to eternal sleep!..." Iddo descends the stairs past Mejinago and leans over the railing, tapping Jyrrar with the wand to bring him back to good health.
Iddo slowly advances along the long way around when he notices the swarm of crabs coalescing around the other half of the party. "Oh, you've found some more crabs. They, uhm, seem to be hungry. That could be dangerous! Uh, hold on, we're coming!" The bard hurries forward, pulling his legs high above the water with each step, but his advance is still comically slow.
Iddo spends the majority of the time staring out at the sea and humming shanties typical of the Taldan navies. He sometimes leans beyond the swan boat's edge, looking at a fish or a curious piece of flotsam as they pass them by. When prompted by Papa Òxọ́lé to describe one of his previous journeys, the bard hesitates. "I assure you, I have, uhm, not much to tell; nothing you should care to listen to at least. But well, there was the one time... I'd just graduated from the Kith, and they took me to a mission in Oppara—that's the Kitharodian Academy, by the way, it's a bard's college; and we went to some secret area under the House of the Immortal Son and fought a whole bunch of undead and some crazy cult—that's one of Oppara's bigger theatres, by the way; wait, let me start at the beginning, so it was me, and a pleasant if curious duo of a Nagaji and a crow..."
As the story goes on, Iddo seems to get into a rhythm, the plot becoming much more consistent and coherent; the storytelling is filled with colourful attention to detail, and dotted with flamboyant gestures and sound effects. By the end, it is clear that the bard is enthralled by his own tale, reliving it in his mind, and his face is painted a hot red as his consciousness returns to the boat in the Shackles. "Oh uh, oh no, I'm sorry that took so long. I bet everyone else has much better stories to tell. Sorry."
Iddo accepts the potion from Kakikko. He inspects it for a short moment before stowing it in a deep pocket of his robes. "Makes sense, we'll have to do some underwater searching if we want to find a wreck. And, uh, water helps carry sound waves, right? So if I'm underwater, creatures of all types, even very far, might hear me, uhm, speak. What a nightmare."
Iddo, a young Taldan human in subdued green robes, sits in a chair at the table's corner, his gaze lazily lying upon the map fastened to it. One might think he'd fallen asleep with his eyes open were it not for him occasionally mumbling in approval or scratching his nose.
The bard ever so slightly turns his head toward Òxọ́lé as he speaks, with the same tired expression as he had during the Venture-Captain's briefing, though something about the shine in his eyes reveals something that his expression might not betray. "Aren't you forgetting the, uh..." he speaks, possibly for the first time during the voyage, before quickly growing quiet. "No, I'm thinking of Port Peril. Uhm, carry on." When the discussion is done, Iddo leans back in his chair, stretching and humming to himself. "Finding a shipwreck belonging to a mysterious mage. That is very exciting," he announces monotonously. "Oh, uhm, and, my name is Iddo, uh, Blackstone. I can cast spells and sometimes, uhm, bore people to death. Sorry, it's been a while since I last went on one of these."
Iddo runs forward a few steps to understand what's happening, then clears his throat and begins his inspiring speech. "Just like Valeros the Valorous prevented the Skinsaw Cult from completing their vile ritual in Magnimar, so shall we defeat these evil cultist and whatever necromancy they're trying to accomplish! Go go Pathfinders!"
Having spent an unnerving amount of time staring at the ruins' walls, Iddo suddenly snaps back to when Benedict lists his findings. He listens diligently, making a mental note of every piece of information. "I, uh, must say, Mr. Stark... 'I will find the Dungeons, seek the screams, remember your name... KILL YOU'... isn't that a bit of an, er, unnerving message? Do you have any idea to whom it may be addressed, or who wrote it, or what's it about? Dungeons, screams..." The young human trails off, staring just above Benedict's head, awaiting an answer.
My country is in fact Israel. Since Israel renewed political ties with Poland when the Soviet Union fell, a tradition started where Israeli schools send 12th-graders to Poland to learn about the Holocaust by visiting various Ghettos, concentration camps, and death camps (a new bill recently passed in Poland forbids blaming Poland for any crimes committed during the Holocaust, which might change this tradition, but I dunno). My school specifically doesn't send these delegations, because pretty much everywhere they boil down to forcing students to feel sad (and sometimes hate the Polish) without actually learning much about the Holocaust. Instead, we go visit museums and memorials around Israel, meet Holocaust survivors and attend lectures about various less-often-discussed facets of the Holocaust (for example, the Catholic Church during the Holocaust or depictions of the Holocaust in Israeli and foreign cinema), which allows us to actually study and understand and not just get into a grim mood. It is still mentally straining, especially for young or sensitive people like myself, but my school makes an important point of allowing us to feel however we want; we can say we enjoyed a lecture or some other event, which would be a sin in a Poland delegation because you have to feel terrible, and we even went to one comedic play that makes a very important point that maybe we as the Jewish nation are abusing the memory of the Holocaust, gradually forgetting what it actually was. Overall, this journey was less about how we're supposed to feel about the Holocaust and more about what we can learn about it and from it, which I greatly appreciate. Thanks for showing interest!
Hey! Extremely sorry for my sudden disappearance, I went on a trip around the country with my school to learn about the Holocaust from Sunday until now and couldn't bring myself to use the phone. I'll try to catch up while digesting everything I've learned this past week and post something substantial tomorrow.
Scarab Sages:
"Uh, sure", Iddo smiles at Obahar awkwardly, "we can do that for you."
Iddo follows the partly quietly, absentmindedly noting the smell of dust and cold earth. He stops suddenly when the voice appears in his head, his mouth agape, then proceeds to think hard.
"I'm sorry Miss, but I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a slave, I'm a Pathfinder, and my love for secrets is well founded", he says to no one in particular.
Iddo listens to Anaref's story, nodding in-between sentences. Finally, he smiles and shakes his head. "See, Mr. Anaref, I'm all for a great story. Really. But before I'm a storyteller, I'm a Pathfinder, and I need you to tell us the facts about what happened. Facts, as in, exactly what happened, even if it's not as detailed or exciting as you'd like."
Iddo goes to ask around a bit to see what he can learn about Merab and Thuvia, but fails to actually strike a conversation with anyone. He does, however, remember reading in some history book about what is known as Merab's "undercity", layers of buildings which were demolished and on which a new layer of the city was constructed. This is likely what the Venture Captain was talking about.
Iddo walks quietly behind the guide. No matter how much he tries to put his mind off of it, his eyes constantly jump to and fixate on the black jaguar. Eventually, he gets too worried about being lost to notice what he's looking at. "A pleasure to meet you, Edmund, Kissan, Mr. Stark. I'm, uh... Blackstone. Iddo Blackstone." Iddo is a young human, about 17 years old. He wears simple robes with a tint of green over a shirt of fine, shining metal links. A poorly crafted shortbow and quiver hang from his back, and a gleaming Wayfinder labelled IB is pinned to his chest. "I was called here by the Pathfinder Society... obviously. It's been a while since my last assignment. I took a short vacation from adventuring to take another course at the Kith. Uh, my last assignment, speaking of which..." Iddo blushes and waves, with minimal movement of the arm, at Alexis. "We're lost, aren't we? Oh no."
"Okay, consider this. We're your prophets, which must mean we're really important. However, you still wouldn't let us meet with both your leaders. You did let Jamila meet them... simply because she is an elemental. That would mean that as important as we are, elementals are that much more important. And guess what? You're all elementals. You see what I'm going at? Because I hardly am..."
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