Urgent Adventurer Business
Log Info
- Title: Urgent Adventurer Business
- Emitter: Lanier
- Characters: Lanier, Cryosanthia, Aya
- Place: A07: Fernwood Pub
- Time: Saturday, June 27, 2020, 10:28 PM
- Summary: Lanier, Cryosanthia and Aya come to the Fernwood from the Temple District to get some food. They go over some of the information they partially received earlier, and fill in the missing bits. Eclavdran may be the threat now. Lanier got the plague helping Braelnoir, she's also in bad shape. The demon duke is unlikely to be weakend, and all of this may tie back to him or Zehier. The half-sil server is especially flirtatious with Lanier, who does his best to ignore her. Cryo offers to perform the Prophesy of Winter, but Lanier is too fatigued from his illness and recovery that the two women decide to take him back to the Temple to recover.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A07: Fernwood Pub *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The common room of the Fernwood Pub dominates the inn, spacious and airy because of the high, vaulted ceiling. Ornately carved beams of dark, polished wood form a lattice overhead, supporting the arched roof two storeys above the floor. To the right of the double-door entry is a spiral staircase, winding upwards to a balcony that rings and overlooks the main area. Large windows at this level grant an excellent view of the river to the west and colorful market stalls to the north and east. An air of coziness is salvaged by keeping the pub dimly lit; parchment-shrouded mana lanterns hang at intervals from the base of the balcony, nestled amongst lush, magically propagated ivy and ferns that grow over this false demi-ceiling and the struts that support it.
The bar is sleek and simple, comprised of meticulously polished black lacquer. Tables are set under the darker niches formed by the balcony floor as well as on the balcony itself. A few are deliberately sized to accommodate halflings and gnomes, but the majority are meant for human-sized individuals. A large common table is on the main floor, set before a semi-circular stage situated against the western wall. Beside it, with pipes mounted upon the wall and running up past the balcony and almost to the ceiling, is a refurbished pipe organ made to look like the one lost when the Fernwood was destroyed during the Merkabah Siege.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Lanier 6'0" 245 Lb Human Male Young, lean and strong Acanian wearing hide clothing. Cryosanthia 6'9" 267 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. Aya 4'7" 105 Lb Shadow Elf Female Mul'niessa. Braided hair. Simple clothing. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
On an evening like this, it's no surprise that one would find the Fernwood Pub's common room populated by a wide cross-section of the populace of Alexandria. Anyone from farmers to merchant to performers can be found eat, drinking, and talking in the dim light. The ever-present din of people talking are backgrounded by the live music performed by a bard in a cleared away section of the main floor. Never-the-less, one can see tables to sit at and open seats at the bar in the spaces between the rushing servers.
Lanier is standing near the front door, his emerald eyes scanning the pub. At the first compatriot he sees, he asks, "Table or bar?"
"Table. The bartender will overhear everything said there, and it is difficult to talk in a line down to the furthest. At table, one is either across or beside." Cryo suggests, crowding in behind Lanier and looking over his shoulder. She examines the Fernwood with both a familiar eye, and one long absent from it. She points, "There is good."
Rather than continue the parade in the more confined space, once the table is pointed to, Aya relocates herself into a seat at said table. Less traffic, and it has the benefit of allowing her first choice of a seat. Depending on the zeal of servers here (which she has doubts of), it might also reduce the overall wait. She is courteous enough to push adjacent chairs at the table out for the others.
Lanier nods his head to Cryosanthia and falls into step behind Aya. He takes one of the chairs, pulls it out, then has a seat much like a sack of potatos. He sets his chin in his hands, supporting his head as he takes a moment to look around. After a few seconds, he comments, "Decent bard today, and it's not too noisy."
Cryo, for her part, moves expertly through the crowded pub. Even her tail doesn't seem to be much in the way, although one patron does get her hair parted. She glides into her seat like a dancer, threading her tail through the back as she sits rather than turning it. Forearms on the table, she leans across it, looking at the others. Conspiratorily she says, "Now, we wait."
There is the slight turn of her head, suggestive of a sideways glance towards the servers on duty, although it might be to focus more on Lanier. "So, you first, Convalescing?"
Aya has one eye on their surroundings, likely mostly upon potential servers. Possibly upon, or in search of, the one lackadaisical half-syl. The other is on those at the table, more specifically Lanier after Cryosanthia gives him the floor, so to speak. "You -do- seem rather mobile and healthy for someone convalescing."
Lanier places his forearms on the table and leans forward, resting against it. He looks away for a moment, his eyes having caught something occurring in the pub, "I was out in the Felwood assisting Braelnoir with an group of abominations. I missed the signs and caught the plague. That was..." He shakes his head, adding a moment later, "...a unique experience." He then looks towards Aya and nods, "I'm feeling much better, but I still lack my usual vigor." He looks back to Cryosanthia, "Seldan saw to it earlier today and dispelled the magic that causes it."
The white sith listens intently, nodding at the end, "It is good, that he cured it. It is not a magic, it is a possession by a magical ooze, that lives between your organs. It is Universal Magic, and a strong enough dispell magic destroy it, otherwise exposure to magic makes it grow. This one has had... too many experiences with them. I am glad you are hale now."
"Braelnoir? In the Felwood? She did not say anything to me, she is ok? I have been too occupied to see her and Ezil." Cryo sighs, sinking back into her seat.
Suddenly, the half-sil server appears behind Aya. Not as effectively as a shadow-step, more some kind of waitressing elusiveness using other tables as cover. She leans in, crowding the Mul'niessa and showing off for Lanier, "So, watchya ordering?"
Aya starts to lean away from Lanier when he mentions the plague and before he notes that he was cured. She straightens anew, partially with the 'aid' of the crowding server. Then she is leaning away from the server, as she isn't as interested in whatever she may be attempting to show Lanier, and certainly not from point-blank range. "A glass of wine," she notes
"Thanks," Lanier begins to Cryosanthia. He takes a deep breath and then shakes his head, a frown forming on his face, "I'm not sure. After we brought the infected orc in, I went to the Temple of Gilead to be sick and miserable in relative peace." He chuckles weakly, turning his head to Aya and shaking his head, "I don't think it spreads like that." He looks back to Cryosanthia and shakes his head, "I don't know where she is, but I know she got hit a few times, so it's likely..." He trails off, turning his attention to the serving lass. He blinks once, his eyebrows popping up before he looks away, "Ale, please. The darker you've got, the better."
"Ok hon, red or white or black?" The half-sil server asks Aya, without looking at her, smiling when she gets a reaction from Lanier, "Dark ale, got it."
She straightens up and leans back, hip resting against the table, "Hey Cryo, you old lizard gal, what'll it be? Regular house special and beer?"
Cryosanthia exhales, sits back, nods, "Yes. That will be fine." Her head moves, she is facing Lanier, "Okay, this one will check on her. She has suffered a lot magically, the plague ooze could cause her issues. This one thinks... it opens you to the plane of magic, somehow. That the Mistake's mark connects you, so she can draw on power, use you, have a magical network that feeds her. We did not get much chance to experiment or study. Poking it, she would retaliate. It is good the ooze didn't stay long, as with time, it changes you."
The white sith looks over at the half-sil, "That's all our orders, you don't have to wait."
"Okay!"
"Surprise me," Aya responds to the server with a roll of shoulder. "I'd rather not learn first-hand how it is spread, regardless," she then follows up to Lanier. "I'm also pleased that you were cured... or uncursed, or whatever the term would be. Far too much reckless magic flying about."
At the mention of the difficulties Braelnoir may have with the oozes, Lanier's eyes narrow as his eyebrows furrow, "There's a Loremaster named Morgan who seems to be interested in helping dispell the ooze." He looks away for a moment, "Maybe I'll ask her kindly to expedite the eviction proceedings. Having that in you is difficult, to say the least. The symptoms wreck your day." He then nods to Aya with a small smile, "Thank you."
He then looks between the two curiously, "So there was a conversation had with Seldan today? It must have been after he dispelled my condition." He then turns back to Aya with a grin, "And what was this _I heard_ about, if you don't mind my asking? I heard that you tried to sneak up on him, or did sneak up on him?"
"This one did not have so much as a conversation as a question on the run, which I hope he will have time to take up with ... Zeke." Cryosanthia says, frowning and sounding a little uncomfortable. "He is busy, this one is busy..."
She trails off, sighs heavily, making her breath visible. Faces Aya, "This one is hoping you can fill me in. This one is keeping current, mostly by getting information second hand. You said he had news, that the Demon was more responsible than Miss Twinkletoes?"
"I didn't sneak upon him, per se," Aya clarifies. "I simply joined the conversation, and his immediate vicinity, unexpectedly." A nod to the white-scale. "He said that he learned that the fae responsible was not so immovable as he thought, that the demon was the irredeemable one. So the intent seemed words for her, and destruction for him, presuming he made an appearance. Oddly, a few weeks past, he was set on her destruction and that the fiend be left alone."
Lanier smirks, "That's good." He nods approvingly and but then schools his face back to neutrality, listening to the news, which seems to be news to him as well, "I think the wisdom here is that Eclavdren seemed to have been far too powerful of a force to stand against, so it was better to bypass him and go for the power that summoned him." He looks towards Cryosanthia and adds, "I was with the team that was sent down to the sewers to launch a diversionary attack."
"Those will be some impressive words then," Cryosanthia says, tracing her finger around her Arcane Mark on the table. A mark that's been there for some time. She looks over at Lanier, "What? When we went to confront her in the Tower? So that's what that was about. He killed a lot of prisoners because of that, and Acedia, and then the Tower self-destructed, killing the rest. This one is not sure who is to blame for that, but knows who was blamed."
"I think I know what to pray to Tarien for." She says, staring at the door to the kitchen, willing it to open and food to come forth.
Aya follows the glance, and would not mind her drink arriving, either. Not that she has much hope on its quality, in addition to, obviously, speed. "I don't know that his power has waned at all. I have a matter to address with him, but I also prefer to have my organs and limbs remain attached as they are. Perhaps Seldan will learn something new in a week that will have him direct all to seek some other individual entirely. Mayhap the pair shall suddenly take their strife elsewhere? I've no idea what to expect at this point."
Lanier shakes his head with a frown, "I don't know much about the aftermath, but we did our best to slow him down." He then looks back to Aya, "Me either. It's very difficult to stay on top of the newest developments. All I know right now is stay the hell out of the sewer."
The door flies open, and the server that had been by a few minutes ago exits carrying a large tray of food and alcohol. "Everyone make room," she says cheerily before placing people's orders in front of them. With Lanier's ale, she leans fooooorward, reaching all the way across the table to deliver the drink. Lanier, for his part, has found reason to make a study of the roof above them, "Interesting choice of wood for the ledge up there. Beautiful grain. Something like that looks like it can last forever."
Now that she has her wine (which may or may not have already been contaminated by the server on general principle), Aya informs her, "He did note that his preferences were 'the darker the better...' You may wish to keep that in mind." Innuendo? Certainly. A means to spare Lanier from his awkward glances elsewhere? Perhaps. A means to annoy the sil? Indubitably.
"Unless he grows fat on soft souls, this one has no expectation he has weakened." Cryo says, scraping at the table. "Worst couple ever. Yes, he will spell out Malik's name, or whomever his current love is, with your entrails. Your afterlife will be as a greeting card."
The whitescale sith leans back as the half-sil occupies the whole table with her lean. She doesn't look away, but her stare is dispassionate disinterest, almost clinical curiosity. "This one has stared at stone ceilings for a very long time."
"Thanks," She says, as her food is placed in front of her. "This one has heard, from the druids and the treants, that her corruption has spread enough to threaten all Ea. There is a prophesy too, of course."
The half-sil waitress is staring with a horrified expression at the sith, then finally breaks herself away to answer the mul'niessa's comment. It's hard to tell if her feigned enthusiasm is meant to seem genuine for the purposes of tips, or as an extra special dig, "Oh hon! You're on a date? I didn't realize. I'll bring you a cake."
"I doubt he's growing fat," Aya exhales an annoyed breath, "but he does collect favors, if not souls, themselves. I wasn't aware that the corruption had spread so far. Now I am even more content that I returned to the city once the plague seemed to be waning here." This time, she chooses to ignore the server.
Lanier glances between Cryosanthia, Aya, and the half-sil several times before he simply says, his jaw clenching as he raises an eyebrow. Finally, he shakes his head, "I don't want cake." He then adds, this time to the half-sil, "Nobody wants cake, but thank you anyway." He then adds, "He can't grow fat. Well, he can, but it's more akin to a disguise."
"I might want cake. Is there any Practice Cake back there?" Cryo says, watching the half-sil wiggle her way around the back of Aya's chair. She waves for the server to head off, "Get me some please?"
"I've managed to avoid owing him favours. I strongly suspect they will be called in to help support some cementing of his power. Perhaps destroy the sewer summoning circle. I wish I'd had time to figure out where that came from, though I suspect it will be Zehier. It all leads back to him. One wonders if She is his fabled wife who died of strange magics too." The white sith laments, leaning back. She looks at the stage, "Do you wish to hear the prophesy?"
Aya considers that possibility, in regards to the demon. "If that proves to be the extent of his calling in, I will be relieved, but I don't dare to hope nor presume anything so mild from the likes of him. On the other hand, he did claim that the task would not be anything we would find utterly offensive..." She scrutinizes her wine heavily before taking a sip. When she does not fall dead from it, a brow lifts. "Which prophecy is this?"
"The Prophecy of Winter, from when the Sildanyari broke from the Fae, that calamity." Cryo says. She watches Aya drink rather eagerly, as if she's in on some joke. The sith stands, "I heard from a Sentinel, who got it from Sir Seldan, who found it or got it from Lady Brightscale's Deva. This one is unclear the source. Such I must dig. It was in Sildanyari, but I think that is not correct. In tradespeak of course, the rhythm is off, but in Sylvan there is a natural one. Let me demonstrate."
The whitescale squirms a bit to push the chair off her tail, it had gotten a little snug, then she slips through the crowd towards the empty stage.
Lanier tilts his head to Cryosanthia for a moment, "Can I ask for a little solidarity in the stand against cake, please?" He glances towards Aya with a quick grin before he looks down to his ale. He even reaches out and then takes it in his hand. After a moment, he then frowns.
He looks back up to Cryosanthia, and in this moment, the fatigue really seems to have overcome the Ranger, "Cryosanthia... I'm sorry. I thought I was good for it, but the walk over has sapped me. Can you please find a needy soul for this ale to soothe? I'm going to go back to the Temple."
With a sigh, he pushes his way up to his feet, reaching into his coinpouch to leave some coin to cover his part of the bill and a tip. To Aya, he adds, "Nice seeing you again. We'll catch up again soon." He turns towards the door, making his way across the main floor at the pace of a trudge.
The whitescale pauses as she mounts the stage and looks at Lanier. His fatigue is clear, she should have noticed earlier. She abandons her impulse to perform and returns, easily catching up with him as he trudges, "The food will keep. Here, let us get a hanson and ensure you make it back to Temple. It was days after I was cured before I fully recovered, this one should have been more considerate."
Cryo catches the eye of the bartender, "have her box up our meals, we will be back, urgent adventurer business."
Finally her head turns towards Aya, "Can you get the door?"
"Of course," Aya responds at the shift, now having even more reason to feel validated at avoiding (and reason to continue to avoid) the plague like, well, the plague. She leaves funds for te drink, then rises and moves to the door on foot so that she might also aid in clearing a path before she opens and holds it. She will readily follow them out, after.
And once they are gone, and the door closed behind them, their half-sil server comes out of the kitchen with a slice of cake. She looks at the table, "Oh phoo. Well, more for me." She takes up a fork and starts on the slice.
