The blood-drinker pulls her cloak around her, raises her hood, and bows her head.  She does not waste time looking up at the rooftops.

Then she moves off into the night, away from the inn, heading uphill, towards the marketplace.

The Blue Rose is typical of of Cadiniagartan architecture.  A sturdy, stone building, with a roof of blue tiles.  All designed to shrug off the worst of the storms which roll in off the sea at certain times of year.

That strong construction, designed to resist the elements, also works well for bearing the weight of panthers.  Even with an extra one, which suddenly leaps up from the ground, where there is a wide dry patch.  Or perhaps the dry area is just a trick of the light... it does seem to be fading as the rain continues.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:55, Wed 11 July 2007.

 

The latest addition of the big cats looked at the others and made a rumbling noise in greeting, and then it turned to gaze down upon the fleeing shape of a woman heading uphill in the streets below.  A moment later the large cat began to move over the rooftops, leaping across gaps and seemingly enjoying itself immensely - but without letting its target slip away.

Yellow eyes glowed in the dark and occasionally were turned underneath the cat itself, looking at the belly.  Few indeed would spot the pouch there, from which the head of an excited little kitten stuck out, a kitten having the time of his life, wishing even more to grow up to become a gigantic cat some day.  But it remained silent, as if knowing something was afoot.

Despite its size and weight, the large cat continued its chase, ignoring the rain and enjoying the hunt.

 

The other cats seem in the main more interested in the new additions than the woman leaving the inn (and two in a somewhat romantic way), but the six, eight with the pouched pair, have little trouble keeping up while flirting.



*(I'm assuming understanding of the language comes with the form).

 

Focusing mostly on the woman below, the new cat could indeed not avoid noticing the interest she generated, and found that she enjoyed the attention.

She had been along for...

                                                                                ...so long...

                                        ...that most any attention was welcome.


Indeed, even the attention first received when becoming aware again, and finding at least a home of sorts in the worlds and voids.

So she returned some of the attention she got, showing that she acknowledged them and their presence.

Even so, the game was afoot, and the purpose of the hunt never faltered.

 

Moving across the rooftops as smoothly as shadows, any sound of their passage hidden by the storm, the great cats follow the woman.  She reaches the marketplace, and turns into one of the streets leading off from it, running across the face of the hill.   She moves closer to the side which provides the most shelter, as the rain becomes more intense.  The water here is ankle deep against the fronts of the buildings, but still she walks on, splashing through it with obvious purpose.

Nobody else is about now, though faces occasionally appear at windows as she passes.

Once she pauses, looking around, and peering into the shadows of a nearby alleyway, then she snaps, "Doshpak!  That tomorrow speaker has me thinking I'm being followed!"  With one last glance at the alley, she moves away again.  Hurrying now.

Above her, dark shapes lope across the tiled rooves, almost invisible against the dark sky, and followed by an insubstantial swirling wind.

 

Sneaking, leaping and moving gracefully over the roofs, the large cat glanced back as well, towards where they had come from, but only for a brief moment.

Turning the attention back to the woman below, the great feline continued its stalking game, its intentions never wavering.

Underneath its belly, in the small pouch, the kitten looked on, so excited at this chase that it was a good thing muscles kept it from leaping out onto to roof thinking it too could keep the pace and make those impressive leaps.

But not today.

 

Roman simply follows, keeping both his ligtnings and the more deadly lighning of Wormwood quiet.  The time of storm is not yet.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:39, Tue 17 July 2007.

Comfortable, now, the others keep pace. This, they have missed, springing silently from place to place, balancing against the storm-winds, the electric thrill in the air...

It is almost like home.

The woman continues on through the storm.  Only now her course is more erratic.

Here she turns into an alley and waits awhile, before continuing back along the same route.  Here she turns right, into a sidestreet which leads obliquely across her way, only to take the next two lefts and return to the original street.

And, always now, she seems more and more nervous.

Overhead the shadows and the storm keep pace.

Once, just once, while she waits in the doorway of a closed shop, she glances up at the roof opposite her and sees something.  A dark silhouette.  She feigns ignorance of its presence, and considers doubling back.  Then lightning flares again, and the shape is revealed as nothing more than an oddly shaped chimney.  Just a trick of the light.

Direcly above her, two of the cats hang their heads over the eaves, and peer down at the doorway far below.  She is still there.  We can see the edge of her cloak.

Another shake of her head, at mistaking a piece of architecture for an enemy, and she steps back out into the rain.  Then doubles back anyway...

 

Finding the thrill of the chase exhilarating, the large cat peered down on the woman who clearly suspected she was being watch but looked in all the wrong places.

When she moved again, so did the cat, moving along the rooftops in the rain and wind, finding it invigorating and stimulating.  Big paws gently gripped the surface and moved the solid bulk of the body smoothly and with impressive power.

The hunt continued.

 

Finally, after much twisting and turning, the woman reaches what appears to be her destination.  A house, near the city wall, with boarded door and windows, and bearing signs of a fire.  The structure is set three or four yards back from the street, and has a small garden in front of it.

Two more figures wait there, seated on the steps of the building, ignoring the weather.  They stand, as the woman approaches, and one of them makes a rapid series of hand gestures.  The woman responds in kind, and all three of them move up to the front door, throwing back their hoods, which reveals that the pair who had been waiting are also women.

"I have agreed to meet with the Rokt, so I will take it now.  Good riddance too.  It may be that Haria Nex turns against us though.  Her life is forfeit if she interferes in this business, do you understand?"

The other two murmur their assent, then rhe door is pushed open, revealing that it is, perhaps, not nailed shut quite so tightly as it might appear.  It closes behind them, leaving Roman and the cats outside.


Elsewhere in the city, the horned Rokt moves through the deserted streets, oblivious to his own stalkers.  His cloak is pulled tight around him, as he splashes through the flowing water, up towards his rendezvous with the women.


A few moments later the door reopens, and the three women appear.  Now they all move together, away from the house, as a group.  Each of them now carries a heavy-seeming pack, and two of them (though in the heavy cloaks it's impossible to tell which two) also have sacks.  The house door is left open, as they move back towards the heart of the city.

For a while Roman wonders at why the woman would so strongly turn against her companion.  An answer comes.  Sad, but perhaps not surprising this close to Amber, home of treachery.  A message goes out over the bridging

[OOC - see the Inn Crowd]

 

Watching from above, the large cat waits patiently until the women comes out again, and then the chase is back on.  She leaps, sneaks and stalks once more, sharing the thrill of the hunt with her little passenger whose eyes nearly pops out of its skull from staring so intently in an attempt to keep track of the prey.

The open door is left alone - the interest is with the women and their packs.

 

Giant cats dance, light footed, over the storm-drenched rooftops.  Cadinagart has never before witnessed such apparitions... and yet tonight, on a night when it seems the very world must be on the verge of its final ending, these great black shapes leap and lope easily across the blue tiles.

The actinic flare of lightning, and the deep bass notes of thunder accompany them in their elegant movements.

And for all the unearthly spectacle of their dance, there are none among the citizens who witness it.

Closer they move, as those they follow make their way to the place where the destinies of entire worlds may well be decided.

The women move with grim purpose, across the city, and a little downhill, while the horned man makes his way up the steep streets, with the wind at his back.  All of them are bound for the same place.

Their voices raised just enough to carry above the storm, the women discuss their changed plans.  Mostly it seems to be their leader speaking, giving instructions... only one of the others is to follow her inside, and she must remain hooded, and in the shadows at all times.  The Rokt must not suspect that the leader is not accompanied by the same woman who was at the inn.  Nothing must happen to jeopardise the successful completion of the trade.  The third must wait outside, but unseen, in case Hariah Nex should try to interfere in this matter.

Roman sends out a message aimed at the big cats "Our priorities are to obtain the 'cube', capture the Rokt and to persuade the women to return to the inn.  In that order.  Taking the Rokt as they come out would be easiest, but we need to watch to be sure that none leave by other means. I beleive that one of you panthers would be best equipped to deal with the Rokt, while I stay in reserve to deal more lethally with other threats.  The witch spoke of death - it is likely that someone will attempt to 'crash the party'",

There is a shop, just on one side of the marketplace.  A sturdy stone building, like many others in Cadiniagart.  It has stood empty for a while, an unusual thing, considering its location, but there are those who claim it brings bad luck to its owners.  Six months ago, a woman was murdered there, and now a ghost has been added to the stories that surround the place.

It wasn't damaged in the riots, though there are those who wish it had been.

Now the trio of women approach the structure, aware that something is strange about the night, but dismissing their niggling edginess as merely the result of the storm, and their own nerves at the conclusion of such an arduous contract.

There is an alley, which leads to a small yard at the rear of the building, and a back door, which opens with surprisingly little effort.  After a brief, whispered discussion, two of the women enter.  The third crosses the yard, to conceal herself in the deep shadows behind a stack of barrels, peering out at the entrance to the area.

On the roof, three stories above her, the cats watch.  Still as gargoyles.  A familiar scent reaches them, faint in the stormy air.  More of their kind are coming.


The Rokt reaches the market, and looks around.  He can't shake the feeling that he's being followed, but can't place the source.  He starts to stroll around the square, pausing to admire the still incomplete gallows, which sways precariously in the wind.  Gradually he makes his way around, towards the deserted shop...

 

As their prey entered what looked like the place of meeting, the large cat leapt off into the air, a near impossible leap, propelling it to the very centre of the target building just as lightning streaked across the sky.

Even as it sailed through the stormy, rain whipped air it changed, shifted and took on another form.

A sleek, monstrous form.

Darker than black and with no discernable eyes it rush through the air towards the designated house and by the time it landed, soundless despite the long claws now displayed on its feet and hands, it was salivating even in the storm.

As a clasp of thunder shook the city it slunk over the side of the build, out of sight.

 

Hoping that Banglen-Yp is on the bridging roman sends Please try not to eat anyone...."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:03, Fri 27 July 2007.

A chorus of "You're no funs"  come from the other cats, surrounding the building.

The horned man takes his stroll around the square, pausing, occasionally, to peer into shopfronts.  From his actions, an observer might suspect that he was just out for a pleasant evening stroll, if only this particular evening were not quite so unpleasant.

Ignoring the windoe of the dead shop, he passes it by, and then turns into the alley.  At that point he speeds up, rushing through to the area at the rear, before finding a place to hide and peer back through the narrow passage.

Once he is satisfied that nobody is following him, he moves up the low steps to the rear door, opens it, and goes inside.  If he notices the woman hidden in the corner, he gives no sign of it.


On the roof, those who follow him meet up with those who follow the women.


Inside, the shop is dark, and ancient boards creak beneath the Rokt's heavy tread.  He moves through the building, unaware that an eyeless gaze follows him from the darkest corner of the ceiling, where the shadows seem to coalesce into something monstrous.

He steps, carefully, past a place where somebody has, at some point, torn up one of the floorboards.

Then he stops, spreading his hands far out to the sides.  "Ah... dhis is good.  You are here."  He half bows to the woman, and spares a nod for the other one, half-hidden in the shadows.  "Have you brought dhe item?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:28, Thu 26 July 2007.

 

Other than bridging the gap between the buildings, the black sleek monster was unaware of any such thing while it slowly, barely perceptibly, moved into what it perceived as the ideal spot for observing without being observed as well as being able to leap into action when the time came.

Its long tail curled up around its shoulders, placing the spear-like tip in a ready-to-strike pose.  The lips remained sealed, however, to prevent the near constant drooling from betraying its presence.

                                        Inodorous.

                                                                                Ectothermic.

                                                            Nearly unperceivable.

With no scent and no heat signature it was tricky at best to know it was there, and few species ever did look above their heads since they could not themselves sit up up there.

But there is was, noting every move down below it with its eyeless stare, ready to spring into action.

 

Roman circles the building, high up, looking for an entrance he might use, unseen.  A broken window, perhaps or even one left open.  As he goes he slowly descends, still careful to avoid notice.  If the woman outside were to raise an alarm the exchange might be called off.

There is an entrance, one which Roman, in his somewhat amorphous form can get in through, likely the same window that Banglen-Yp had used, the glass scattered on the floor inside, as the frame swings and creaks on straining hinges.

The room inside is dark, right up beneath the gambrel roof of the structure.  There is a door at the far end, slightly ajar...

Roman hovers near the window, ready to storm into the building if the occasion demands.  Inside, without the cover of the elements he might be seen, and nothing must endanger the exchange.  This seems the best compromise between the demands of the situation,

Roman waits at the window, visible to the cats in their positions on the rooftops around the yard.  Three stories below, though, the hidden woman is more intent on the rear door of the shop than on the random swirls and eddies in the rain.

From where he hovers, Roman can hear voices, somewhere far inside the shop.  Distance, the sounds of the storm, and the quiteness of their speech, all conspire to make it impossible to hear what is being said.

Fear not the dark, but what may lurk therein.

To Roman's senses, and to those linked to him, the voices sound a little louder, but still not clear enough to be heard...

In the courtyard, the woman moves from her hiding place, edging closer to the rear door of the shop.

The predators lurk, assigning amongst themselves the targets. One to each limb of the not-demon, one to the cube which is not-cube, one to each of the women, shifting to reinforcement status once they leave.

The task doesn't take long, and they circle the building slowly.

To Roman's ears, the voices stop for a moment.  Then a single word reaches his ears clearly, "Treachery!", followed by some more, again too low to hear.

In the yard, the woman who had remained outside starts when she hears that word.  She draws a knife, and takes up a position near the door.


Suddenly there is a sound which does not belong... laughter.

Roman wastes no time in blowing through the broken window.  Hopefully Banglen-Yp can handle the situation until he gets there.  As he goes, he listens, hoping to gain a little more information on what is truly happening inside.

A mental shout emanates over the bridging,  The followed woman betrays!

Of a sudden, much of the former plan is discarded.

They drop like lightning onto the street, and charge at their targets.

One pounces the woman in the street. Claws sheathed, but not allowing her to leave.

Five others charge, heading through the walls, their roars loud as thunder, Ahmad first of them all.

Two remain ready to chase escapees.

A mortal fever haunts the dying earth
Our hearts and souls stand still and wince
I can't save your day,
Rescue won't take your hand,
So sleep the day away
Sleep, my dear
And our god hides in calm


Inside the shadows lurk, the shadows lurk as the world dances blindly.

Windows and doors are burst assunder, sending glass and wood flying into the room in a hail of jagged shards.  A crash echoes down the stairs, from somewhere on the upper floors of the shop.

As the laughter dies on her lips, the woman's left hand flashes out to grab the bundle on the counter, while her right suddenly holds a knife.  "More of your treachery, Rokt?" she snaps.

The second woman crouches, shielding her face from the flying fragments, rolls and twists... coming to her feet back to back with her leader.  She has a knife in each hand.

The room is suddenly a lot more crowded...

The Rokt reaches over his shoulder, drawing a sword with a heavy, curved blade.


Outside, the third woman suddenly finds half a ton of panther pinning her down.  She still has her knife in hand, but suddenly it seem that trying to use it might not be such a good plan.


Inside, in the most shadowed corner of the ceiling, something black hisses quietly...

 

Fools.  Why did they burst in like that?  The tension had been too strong already, and now, it could only result chaos.

Anyone could die now.


Dropping from the ceiling the sleek black shape twisted around in mid-air and landed nearly without a sound right between the horned man and the women.

With once side towards them each it hissed, loudly and with a sort of scream in there.  It hoped to gain the attention of everyone, including the large cats.  The tail whipped about, but not towards anyone, merely above its own eyeless head.

Standing in a crouch, the end of the sharp tail now poised above its head the thing froze, waiting without making a sound.  It watched everything in the room at once, ready.

The second next move would be its, regardless of who moved first.

 

The intruders hesitate, as the woman's words imply a change, but two move in on the Rokt, two go after the package, and the last one crouches warily before the thing between them.

For now, claws are kept sheathed, at Ahmad's order. "All the people alive are wanted."*

But weight, strength and speed are still applied as they swat and bite at the things the humans hold.


*_catspeak
This message was last edited by the player at 19:18, Sat 04 Aug 2007.

"These animals were at the inn, with the copper-haired woman who spoke up for us." the woman snarls, as she finds herself disarmed, and the bundle knocked from beneath her hand.  "The woman whose words persuaded Haria Nex to turn against me was also with them!  Are they your lackeys, Rokt?"

"Dhey are not mine!  Dhey were at dhe inn when you were dhere, Chanactarsa witch.  To protect you?  Is dhat it?"  As he responds, the man's eyes blaze with fury.

Then the horned man also finds himself relieved of his sword, and the woman speaks again, "Hah!  It seems we have both met with betrayal this night!"


A bizarre aparition enters the room from the door to the staircase... a knot of swirling air and lightning, moving carefully through the suddenly crowded space.

The woman glares at it, "Another of yours, Rokt?  You are pathetic!"

"Mine?  Yours!  Is dhis one responsible for dhe storm which damaged my ship?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:49, Wed 08 Aug 2007.

As the living storm approaches the captive Chanactarsa  voice like thunder speaks "Woman" "is" "deal" "done?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:57, Mon 06 Aug 2007.

 

Even as the cats swatted at the sword, the tip of the tail came over for an instant, between the cats and the man-demon, but was withdrawn when the weapons was gone from his grip.  The tip of the tail was once more poised over the eyeless head of the creature.  All in one smooth move.

As the whirling wind spoke the creature hissed in what sounded like a parody of laughter, tilting its head slightly.  Then the jaws opened and a second pair of jaws moved out slowly on a bony structure, dripping in some kind of saliva.  These second pair of jaws open in turn, slowly, and then closed again, drool falling on the floor.

Then a small, cat-like mewl is heard from the creature, sounding slightly muffled.

 

"You have interfered in the business of the Chanactarsa." The woman says to the living storm, "That is cause for blood feud!"

The Rokt studies the strange creature which watches him.  Or, at least, it seems to be watching him.  It's hard to tell exactly, as it has no eyes.  After careful consideration, he decides it's probably best if he behaves for the moment.

Outside it appears to be raining giant panthers.

Morgan ducks, entering the crowded room. Appraising the situation, a small smile plays about his lips.

"Pardon the intrusion, but we've been following an unusual creature. We were waiting for your business to finish before coming inside, but there were shouts of betrayal reported, and they thought it might be her. If you could finish whatever you're doing and clear out before she decides to retaliate, I'd appreciate it."

Every word a true one, but I'm not referring to Banglen-Yp.

Tahirah actually takes a moment outside, both to catch her breath, and to regain her composure.  She gives Haria Nex a concerned look - not that one can tell through the hood - and says softly, "It may be better if you remain here, for the moment."  It's only a suggestion, however, and she walks in after Morgan.  She takes in the tableau, especially the strange creature in the middle of the room, but turns to face Daennar Gef.

She bows to the Chanactarsa.  "Our apologies for disrupting your honorable transaction, Daennar Gef."  She speaks softly, her movements slow, letting her demeanor project calm and peace despite the tension.  The knife given to her by Haria Nex lies under her robes, tucked away before the wild panther ride, when her hands were inevitably otherwise occupied.

"There is a matter I would broach with you, that lights upon both your honor and this business, if I may speak before you conclude."  She stops, to wait for permission, prepared to step back if it is denied.

Roman still feels the need to answer.  "Have" "done" "nothing."  "Wait" "for" "deal."  "Is" "deal" "done ?"

"No, curse you!" Daennar Gef practically spits the words at the storm creature.

Haria Nex looks through the door, taking in the scene in a series of darting glances, "We are too early!  The trade has not been completed!"

"Haria Nex!  So you betrayed me in more ways than simple desertion." the older woman says, pointing at the younger, "Before these witnesses, I declare you Outcast!"

There is a low rumble, deep in the Rokt's throat, then he throws back his head and roars with laughter, "You accuse me of treachery, when all along it was one of your own.  Chanactarsa will become a byword for duplicity and deceit among dhe Rokt!"

Desperate to save face now, Daennar Gef's face falls as the Rokt speaks.  She looks to Tahirah and Morgan, the two who might be able to provide a way out.  The latter speaks of an unusual creature, and there is one here, sure enough.  The former offers a way to save the bargain.

"Speak."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:50, Wed 08 Aug 2007.

 

As the woman looked at the creature, it appeared to somehow look back, despite the lack of eyes as it would seem to have.

It also had observed and heard Morgan, but shown no sign thereof, as it waited, watched and kept alert.

As the Rokt let out his roaring laughter, though, the sharp tail of the creature whipped up and close to him, as if giving a warning, and the head turned to face the man-demon, as if giving its full attention to him now.

A deep, low hiss started, first faint then growing in intensity, but never ceasing to catch a new breath.

It would seem that sudden and loud noises evidently did not sit well with the creature.


                                                                                _{At least such a notion was what it tried to sell.}

 

Morgan's face falls slightly. "I'm terribly sorry, but I really can't stand as your witness in this. We aren't interfering with your bargain, and none here were guided by your lady. The Rokt here has been followed from his ship by a rather dangerous creature I have an interest in. We had, as I said, been waiting paitently for your business to complete."

He turns and bows, slightly, to the Rokt. "You, I and others may have matters to discuss, but it can wait. "


His amused thought chuckles through the bridging, though he keeps his face straight.  This time, too, I do not speak of you Banglen-Yp, though a rather different creature. 

Tahirah gives a small bow of thanks, stepping closer in to the group, still moving slowly.  "Haria Nex has cautioned us, many times, to not interrupt until after your deal was complete," she begins.  "But I did not have time to explain to her the full implications.  I think that when I am done, you will agree this is a trade that should not be made."  She turns fully towards Daennar Gef, trusting Morgan and the hissing black creature to keep the Rokt at bay while she talks.

"These Cubes, such as you have found, were crafted and cast into many worlds, by beings called the Archons, that come from a place beyond the worlds we know.  They seek to destroy everything; all life, all worlds.  Rokt, Chanactarsa, hunters and seers alike; children, creatures, even the very stones upon which we walk.  Their plan requires a Key that will unlock for them a seam, from which to unravel our existance."

"That Key is a Cube, but for the Cube to become the Key, it must travel from one boundary of the worlds to the other; end to end, creating an axis upon which their destruction can pivot, sundering the worlds and casting all to chaos.  The Cube you were sent to find - the particular and specific Cube required of your bargain - lay at one end of the worlds."  She holds a hand out, palm up.  "The chosen place to complete your Bargain and deliver the Cube, lay at the other."  She holds out her other hand, and then clenches both into fists.  "And the Key has been born.  You were not sent to find a Cube, but rather, to draw a Line; an act not of Seeking, but of Creation."  She's very good at pronouncing capitalizations.

"Hidden motives and false pretense, I am sure, are no strangers to you, and doubtless no cause in themselves to end a bargain.  But I see in your sister, as in you, the honor of the Chanactarsa, and I think it is not an honor that will contribute knowingly to such destruction.  I would not ask of you to withdraw your pledge, but I fear that for a Key such as you have wrought them, provisions will be in place when the Rokt comes to contact the Cube - to call his Masters here, or to call him to them.  This must not happen."

"I know nothing of dhis!" the Rokt protests.  "Rokt have no masters.  We are simply traders.  We do not... "

Daennar Gef interrupts, "This is true.  The Rokt are known for serving only themselves.  They are also known for regarding those they deal with as fools.  They will cheat, lie, and steal, at every opportunity.  No master could trust them."

"And dhe Rokt hold your people in equally high esteem." replies the horned man, his voice dripping with acidic sarcasm.  "I bought dhe location of dhis device from a man who had heard of it.  He told me dhat it was a way to travel instantly to many worlds.  As a trader in dhuqhat root, dhe ability to find new markets for my stock, and get to dhose markets before the roots spoiled, would give me an advantage over my rivals."

"Dhat is my sole reason for wanting dhe device!  Now you tell me it holds danger?"

"No danger at present."

A tiny flame ignited in a dark corner of the room, and Luke cupped his hands around a cigarette.  The tip flared.  "I've cut off this area from...well, from what the Cube uses to empower itself."  He gestured with the flame toward the Rokt.  "He might be able to leave another way, but he won't be using the Cube.  Nobody will, not here."

Luke shook his hand and the flame died, the corner darkening again.

Morgan groans, hand wiping expression from his face. His fleeting annoyance fades, as Tahirah's words prove better than his. Still, he'd prefer to salvage some dignity. Sometimes.

"I guess I can play it out another night, it isn't that important. Those things are supposed to help destroy all worlds, like she said. Get you killed by all sides of the war, keeping one. I'll be outside while you folks talk."

With that, he steps back into the storm.

James slid off his mount's back as soon as they arrived in the yard before the shop.  Riding bareback was a completely difference experience to riding in a saddle and James wasn't sure he appreciated the difference.  The panther's agility largely compensated for James' precarious balance, but the cat seemed obsessed with catching up with Morgan and there had been a couple of close calls.  James only hoped he had not bruised his ride with his grip.

Turning his attention to the current situation, James notices that many of the others have already gone inside.  Trusting them to secure the situation, James looks to the deployment of the panthers guarding the perimeter - and finds it quite satisfactory.  Deprived of anything to do he moves under the eaves of a nearby building, more for the limited shelter it offers than out of any desire for concealment, and waits.

The Rokt's face grows thoughtful, as he ponders what he has been told.

Finally he speaks slowly, carefully.  "I have no choice dhen.  If dhis cube is dangerous, to me or to my family, dhen I must cancel my agreement.  I will take my money, Chanactarsa, and leave."

"No, you will not!" Daennar Gef snarls at him, "You agreed to pay us half the fee, just for finding the device.  The second half was for delivering it to you.  We found it, but we cannot deliver it, because you would refuse it.  The coin, there, is forfeit, and the Chanactarsa have not broken the deal!"

"This is acceotable to me.  We keep our bargains."

"What?  Dhat purse holds half a year's profit from my ventures!"

 

Having remained unmoving and silent since Morgan left, the creature now hissed quietly, and its head turned as if to regard the Rokt once more.  Perhaps it was his loud voice, perhaps something else, but something evidently bothered the creature.

The sharp-ended tail slowly, slowly crept over the shoulder, with the tip drooping down as it lifted into the air as the tail moved.

The creature sank down into a four-legged stance again, even as the hissing and moving of the tail continued.  Beyond the very appearance of the creature there was nothing directly threatening about its moves, at least not too direct and open.

 

Tahirah is, for perhaps the hundredth time since meeting these people, very glad of her overhanging hood.  She developed a very good poker face in dealing with the Lords of Charyk, but not enough to handle all of the surprises that come out of them.

She bows slightly to the Rokt.  "You show great wisdom," she offers.  "Enough to know the value of time, over mere money," she clarifies, in her own way adding subtly to the threat the strange creature in the middle of the room isn't quite making...and the one that Daennar Gef surely will be making in another moment.

"Well, they did find it for you," Chance says. "But as for delivery, what if someone else were to pay for delivery on his behalf?" Wouldn't that still satisfy the deal, and save the Rokt considerable coin?"

OOC: Last post here was eaten by RPoL or something.

There is a long silence, and the Rokt and Daennar Gef both speak at once...

"Dhat is - " "We have - "... they both stop, and study each other.  Finally the Rokt bows, and turns away.

"We have spent many years," Daennar Gef starts again, "searching for the cube.  The Rokt promised us that, since it would tie up many of the clan's seekers, for so long, he would still pay us half the agreed price, even if we were unable to deliver it.  Just as long as we made an honest try."

"We have tried, and only fail because the Rokt has declined the delivery.  But the second part of the bargain remains.  The Rokt must pay... that was the word of the bargain.  We can not take payment from somebody who was not part of the bargain."

The Rokt whirls, "Dhat is preposterous!  Does it make difference where coin comes from, as long as it arrives in your hand?"

"The first part of the bargain may be gone, but the bargain itself remains.  And the bargain was with you, Rokt.  Not with the strangers."

"Of course," Tahirah says promptly, still quite calmly.  "It is Honor, not Coin; if the Chanactarsa accepted payment from us to complete your bargain, word would spread that they can be bought.  How would you have felt, had one of your competitors offered, to them, to purchase your item for the same price?  Or even more?  It would have been travesty had they accepted."

"I believe," a flat hand waves lazily before her, "That what my friend proposes was a simplified phrasing of a more complicated arrangement.  You, Rokt, must pay the half that you promised; but perhaps for an equal amount, we might purchase from you your rights to the second half of the bargain?  Then," she bows her head again to Daennar Gef, "We would have honestly procured the right to complete your bargain in the Rokt's place, before witnesses; thus, we could pay to you the second sum, to have the item delivered to us."

Chance speaks casually of this deal, and she has seen these Strangers draw all manner of miracles from the air.  She hopes he can provide the kind of money that's being discussed here, if they all agree.

Chance shrugs. "Details, details," he says. "There's nothing to be concerned with, so long as you'll delay the arrangement a few moments longer--or do you charge for that, too. There's a wide chasm between the Spirit of the Law and the Letter of the Law, and it's easy to fall into that chasm. By seeing how hastily you jump to conclusions for fear of your laws, I feel you've dishonored yourself this day. At least, I know I'll never be doing business with your kind. And I'm tempted to spread word that others should avoid business with you, too. This inflexibility is not always good business. We're dealing with an object that threatens many lives, and that should be what is important in your mind. Yet, despite our efforts to reach an agreement all sides can swallow, you fight us at each and every turn. For what? Money? Honor? What good will your honor do you when we're all dead? If you want to redeem yourself in our eyes, you'll take Haria Nex back without any punishment or censure. She made no agreement that would interfere with your first agreement, she was very careful in that. And your dishonor is in judging her so quickly without being wise enough to hear the facts."

Harsh words, Chance knew, but he senses that such harshness was necessary in dealing with this kind of person. He had met her kind a dozen times before. Only a harsh stand would shake her from her law-abiding stupor--if even that.

Turning to the Rokt, he says, "As for the first half ... well, you agreed to pay even for the attempt, so I can't help you there. But this dhuqhat root... you have some with you? Perhaps we could buy the minimal amount for say... the other half of what she says you owe? Then it would be your money and she can accept it as payment without complaint."

He tilts his head toward Daennar Gef again, raising an eyebrow. "Right?"

In the privacy of her hood, Tahirah closes her eyes and holds her breath.

Of course, it's certainly possible that what she thought Chance meant wasn't what he meant at all...but at least he didn't seem concerned about the amount of money involved.  She'd read that part right, anyway.

"Haria Nex is forgiven." states Daennar Gef.  "She was led astray, but that ended with her finding important news about our mission, which might have saved us some trouble."

"As for the Rokt... he owes us half the fee.  That is all.  We will just leave it where it lays, as it is now worthless to us.  Worse than worthless, we find that it is cursed.  Of course, if somebody picks it up after we leave... well, then, that is their bad luck.  I will be glad to be rid of it."

"All we require is half the agreed coin.  No more, no less."

The Rokt sighs, "Very well.  Dhat was dhe agreement I made.  Dhe coin is dheirs."

He looks to Chance, I have a little of dhe dhuqhat root, aboard my ship, if you are interested?"

 

Crouching down low, the creature leapt up into the darkness even as the Rokt spoke, blending with the darkness above, and then it was gone, silently, in a matter of seconds.


A few moments later it appeared on the roof of the same building where it sat down, unmoving, the rain running over its black shell like water of an oiled surface.

 
This message was last edited by the player at 19:25, Sat 11 Aug 2007.

"Well, that's settled, then," Chance grins. "And you have a ship? And yes, I think I would like to look at your stock, still. Perhaps, when the current bargains are settled, you could tell me a little more about this dhuqhat root ... and your ship ... ."

The Rokt bows to Chance, "I satisfied widh dhis new bargain.  Widh dhe permission of your people, and dhat of dhe Chanactarsa, I will return to my ship."

Daennar Gef nods, "I am... not happy with this, really, but it is the best possible result, since the original deal has been broken.  We will accept the half fee, as agreed, and we will abandon the device.  I have believed it cursed, since first I laid eyes on it, and want nothing more to do with it."

"If the Rokt does not want the thing, then nor do we."

She glances at Haria Nex, and the other Chanactarsa woman.  "We will take the purse, and leave now.  You are welcome to that." a dismissive gesture towards the head-sixed bundle laying on the floor near the purse.

Thunder rumbles.  "No" "feud."  "Go" "in" "peace"

Tahirah does her best to ignore the talking thundercloud, on the grounds that she has too many strange things to get used to, and perhaps some prioritizing is in order.  Open sky first; talking sky can come later.

Instead, she makes a small bow to Daennar Gef, and then a deeper one to Haria Nex.  "It has been an honor, and a pleasure, to meet you."  Then she smoothly sits down, cross-legged, on the floor, her box of cards sliding out into her hand, and lays out a small series of cards...

The Chanactarsa prepare to leave, but Haria Nex is drawn to Tahirah as she starts dealing cards out on to the floor...

Tahirah regathers her cards and rises again, smiling to herself as she sees that Haria Nex, as she hoped, saw and waited.

She follows the others out, softly speaking a single word as she passes the curious chanactarsa.  "Homecoming."