Murron stands as well and almost spills his goblet from Sathras 'gentle' bump.

"Yes, Sathras," Murron says in a slightly hushed tone with a half-smile of amusement to his friend, "we'll get paid shortly."

Turning back to the King A'Semna, Murron holds his goblet high and salutes, "long live Dracarta and the Kingdom of Carantheum!  Long may King A'Semna reign!"

She remains standing behind them, not touching either food or drink, her expression distant.  Not cold or closed, she just seems as if she's not there with the rest of you.  For a moment, when Sathras speaks she comes back to reality and she looks at him, her silvery eyes with the rainbow flecks oddly focused on him before she glances around the room and then drifts away in thought.  After a moment she sighs quietly and her shoulders seem to relax some as one hand drifts up to the purple stone in the woven necklace.  Her eyes flutter closed and she stands stock still for the span of a few hundred heartbeats before her hand falls and she opens her eyes again.  This time she seems more in the now than she has at any other point in the discussion.  She remains quiet, watching the interactions between her new companions.

Aaban selects some simple fare and water to nourish himself, waiting with the others, and will also toast the king and his country.

King A'Semna acknowledges everyone's toast and returns one of his own which is echoed by everyone in the room; "To all of your health and to a successful venture! May Jamba watch over you all in his wisdom!" He sits back down and gestures to one of his entourage and addresses the group again; "I am instructing my treasurer to disburse to you all 500 gold lumens in Dracartan pyramids or an equal value in goods if there is anything you can think of that you each may need. You will also be provided with the potions and flask I spoke of."

OOC: If anyone wants to purchase anything using the initial payment just let me know. Unless there is anything further here I will assume everyone finishes the celebration then returns to the inn to sleep. At that point I will look to progress the game to the adventure proper.

In reply to A'Semna (msg #195):

Sathras nods at the king's speech, eyes drifting to the table of food and drink.

Relaxing now at the table enjoying the spread it didn't take too long for Califax to notice Sathras' gaze.  With a smile he poured another goblet of wine and offered it to the scaly warrior.

It looke like there is plenty for all and his Highness did say to enjoy the refreshments.

Califax got the feeling that Sathras had learned to be offered things before accepting, a hard life to grow up in servitude he though, so giving the lizard man a break would be a kindness.

Sathras takes the goblet in both hands, cradling it like an egg. He lifts it and drinks with exaggerated care, his eyes seeming to roll in his head as he looks from side to side watching those around him while he drinks.

In reply to Sathras the Bold (msg #198):

Dii waits for Sathras eyes to catch her gaze in their wandering, and holds her goblet up with a smile to her new sojourn companion. Then she goes back to pillaging the feast-table before her.

(If anyone pays attention for long enough, it may be noticeable that she is predominantly going after lean meats with the occasional small handful of fruit. At times she even goes so far as to pull one of her daggers to trim some of the fat to her obviously higher standard. But of the full glory of the bountiful buffet before her, she seems to frequent the wine most often.)

She remains back, watching.  Her ebony hands clasped in front of her in a relaxed position and as she watches the group interact she smiles just a little.

"Almost two full sets of ancient warriors have been gathered here today to fight this threat," she says.  "We're just missing a few."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:25, Thu 10 Mar 2011.

Content that the arrangements have been made and happy that T'Vala will be joining the group, Burikan, digs into the food with reckless abandon. Such is the way in Harak, where your next meal is a roll of the dice.

Despite the grim events of earlier and the daunting task looming in the morning there is a general air of merriment as people partake of the banquet. Toasts are made and received and the group gets many approving glances from the Dracartan court, even the amazingly well-mannered Sauran. From the light passing through the translucant air walls you can all see the day is drawing closer to night....

Suddenly there is a blinding flash of light, an enormous clap of thunder, and violent winds whip around the hall. When everyone's vision clears and they regain their equilibrium there is a strange sight in the center of the hall. Standing in a pattern of black squiggles which seem to be etched into the floor which was previously unadorned is a greymane burdened with travelling gear, looking around in confusion. In addition to the travelling gear the equus carries the traveller himself, looking very disheveled and equally confused. In one hand he holds a necklace of some sort, arcing with black and purple sparks. In his other hand a 10' long metal rod of some sort touches the ground, the same black and purple sparks playing over its entire surface. The green-skinned traveller's green and white streaked hair is standing on end in a crown around his head.

In a moment he is surrounded by Dracartan soldiers, some aiming their hurlants at the man and equus, others with their swords drawn, looking to the King and Council. Aside from the rushing of the soldiers the rest of the hall is eerily silent for a moment more.....then the King speaks; "By Jamba what was that and who are you to appear in my hall unbidden? Speak quickly and make no sudden moves else my soldiers strike you down."

The rest of the court watches and waits in silence for the man to speak....

"A heroic entrance for the missing hero," she says with a nod.  "These were the main two groups of players.  Others filtered in and out, but we're now all here."

She continues standing apart from everyone, where she can walk.  Her hand raising to the stone around her neck occasionally.

In reply to Shadow Seeking the Light (msg #203):

"Cal? Do you by chance know this sudden Cymrylian?" Dii addresses Califax with eyes unerringly kept on their new guest...

Sathras chokes on his wine at the sudden appearance. Though he does his best not to spit and dribble upon the floor of this nobleman's room, he winds up coughing and coughing. Spittle dribbles from his scaly chin and the darker wine froths upon his lips.

His eyes wide, his head swivels from side to side, suddenly alert and attempting to ascertain danger between his fits of coughing. He lumbers forward, trying to put himself between harm and Murron first. Some part of his reptilian brain tells him to stop, that this is not his lava pit, not his fight. But the sudden surprise and lack of air from the coughing makes it difficult to see and to think.

Califax looks up from the floor to Dii and makes a shrugging motion.

There is a Cymrilian?

With a wince he starts to get up and right his chair.  The sudden violent apperance had made Califax jump with such supprise that his chair had toppled backwards and dumped him on the floor by the table.  Looking over at the rider Califax shook his head.

Not someone I know.

His left hand rested on his right wrist, last time Dii saw him do that the following second there had been a tri-bow in his hands.

Aaban's hand flexes, instinctively reaching for his mace, but he forces himself to relax and withdraw his hand.  The newcomer looks confused, perhaps as unintentional in his arrival as the King was as his new host.  He remains where he is, awaiting the answer of the newcomer.

The frazzled Cymrilian, obviously discombobulated by his recent--and fascinating! and note-worthy!--and oh! how the Tower shall hear of this one, I can assure you!--translocation, seems to have lost his ability for speech.

But...a Cymrilian born is a gentleman from the start...

But where in the Magister's name am I? Calm breaths, Novo. Scrutinize and study. There is always a reason for the way things happen...


"Ah...I am...uh..." Your name, damn you! You had one moments ago! He coughs suddenly. A brief puff of black smoke billows from his mouth. Ah ha! There it is. "I am...Novo...Novoptolomeo, your...uh...your Majes...your Worship. Very recently of the Plains of Golarin. Also recently of Cymril. I am with the Cabal Meteorlogica, your...uh...your Grace. Recently.

"And this is my equs."

King A'Semna cracks a slight smile he tries unsuccessfully to hide at the obvious confusion of his newest guest. He makes a gesture and the soldiers relax their stance somewhat although weapons are still at the ready. He smooths the expression of his face before speaking again; "Your equs, so I see. So tell me Novoptolomeo, most recently of the Plains of Golarin, Cymrilian and member of the Cabal Meteorologica; how exactly is it you find yourself here in my court startling my subjects, damaging my floor, and disrupting a banquet of celebration?"

Novo brightens at the question.

"Well...I am glad that you asked! I myself was wondering the same thing...and if you'll allow me to expostulate...I can get to the heart of the matter.

"I was sent--well, sent perhaps is not the right word--we go where the events occur, whether we are told or not--I was sent deep into the dangerous--" Looks around, keeping an eye out for any lovely ladies who may be listening--"extremely dangerous territories of the Beastmen. The Plains of Golarin--meteorologically fascinating, by any account. There is a place there, the Watchstone, a holy place, as I understand it, to the Aamanians. Anyway, it affords an expansive view of the whole of the Plains. And--here's the best part, obviously--it is very high up in the air."

He gestures, slightly, with the 10' rod in his hand, "This is a lightning quantifier. Quantifies lightning. Well...of course, it has a tendency to encourage lightning to strike. Black lightning as well. By far...one of the most fascinating bits of arcano-meteorological phenomena there be. By far!"

He rambles. Often. Especially when he's talking about his favorite subject.

"Black lightning is fond of elevation. Hence, the Watchstone! Perfect! I know--I hear your thoughts on the matter--so you can imagine my ineffable joy when the dark cloud approached. And my unalterable bliss when--yes, of all things!--the Black Wind blew forth. Imagine the confluence! The arcane conjunction was electric! I set myself, planted the rod--this rod--and waited. Observed, whilst Scamandros here held firm beneath me (he's quite used to the demands of my profession). Made my notes--in my head, of course--my hands were thus occupied--and the cloud blotted out the sky--and the foul Black Wind swallowed the air--I was dying, I'm sure of it--but what a way to go out! I felt the heat--and the chill--simultaneously--the arcano-electric flow was fierce!

"Then it struck!

"My brief but legendary career flashed before my eyes.

"And lo!...I was...here. Just like that!"

And all of a sudden, Novo appears as if he's going to faint. He bobbles in his saddle.

"A banquet of celebration, you say? Celebrating what? Perhaps a glass of wine would be in order, if I may. All the moisture appears to have been sucked from my body..."

There is talking.

Talking is not fighting.

Talking does not mean danger.

Talking might mean being in trouble. But the voices don't sound angry.

He tries to calm himself. Visibly he tries to hunker down. Panting, he looks around at his new companions.

In reply to Sathras the Bold (msg #211):

"The story alone is worth a glass of wine." She offers, coupled with a slow clap. Being one of the closest to the wine in question, Dii produces another goblet and fills it. She then walks it over to Novo, her goblet in her off hand, and offers the wine to him. As he takes of the goblet she lightly clanks hers against his. "Well met, Novo."

There are chuckles here and there among the court as Novo finishes his tale then King A'Semna's incredulous look turns into a bout of raucous laughter, soon joined by many others. He looks over his court, orders his soldiers to stand down, and speaks to Novo, still chuckling at times; "Worth a glass of wine indeed and much more I would reckon. A weather mage you say? Well, the wind certainly blows forth from your mouth with little to hold it back. If your other talents are half as effective my country could have use for you, if you are interested in hearing my proposition."

King A'Semna thinks for a brief moment before continuing; "You will have to relate your tale to my scribes and a convocation of Thaumaturges, if this phenomenon could be duplicated or harnessed the ramifications would be staggering. Translocation has not been seen in Talislanta since the Great Disaster lo six centuries ago. Of course seeing what it took for the translocation to happen the risks could be highly prohibitive."

Aaban's stern gaze falls upon the Sauran who has stepped in front of them, and it actually, almost imperceptibly, softens.

"Sathras," he calls, not loudly, only enough for the Sauran to here, and waves him over, back to the table, "it is all okay."

The Sauran's reptilian gaze darts to that of the Aamanian. For a moment, his teeth are bared. But then something seems to spark behind his eyes and slowly he nods. He rubs at his mouth and chin with one scaly hand. His nostrils continue to flare and shut, flare and shut, but he shuffles back over towards the table. His shoulders are hunched and his knees bent. He moves with a strange crouching gait. It does little to make him take up less space, but it does make his seven foot bulk shorter and more aligned with the height of those in the room.

Burikan looks up from his food only long enough to see that the newcomer was not attacking anyone. he gives a slight grunt and goes back t gorging himself on the free victuals.