A Yitis ferry runs from Tusk to Reedham, carrying goods and passengers between the two.  There isn't much in Reedham, it is a small fishing village, although it has a small inn called The Flying Fish.  However, Elga Verniex (sometimes known as The Swamp Witch) lives a few miles outside the village.  She is reputed to have a bad temper, and to have friends in high places.  Rumour has it that The Lady Pipre is her daughter!

OOC:  This thread is open to PCs and Entourage Members.

“I’m looking for the one they call the Swamp Witch.” Cass announced as he neared the ferry.“Elga Verniex, I believe her name to be. How close can you transport me to where she lives?”
This message was last edited by the player at 02:00, Sun 24 July 2022.

Reedham." comes the reply from the woman standing at the end of the House Yitis wharf.  "The ferry calls at Reedham Jetty, then goes on to Oldkeep."  She points at a shallop moored a fit further down the wharf.  The shallop, one of the  larger local trading vessels, has a small cabin at the rear for passengers, and  a few barrels on the deck.  More cargo waits to be loaded from  the wharf side.

As it happened, House Solanus had a presence on this little sojourn initiated by the lord-mayor, to seek the enigmatic and irascible swamp-witch.

"So. Have you ever met a swamp-witch before?" she asked Cass, conversationally. "I wonder if it was she who taught the Lady Pipre how to make bombs?"

“Lady Alisa, let me first say that it is an honor to have your company on this little bit of snooping.” Cass offered a small bow of respect as he spoke. He inwardly smirked at calling it snooping, but a spade was a spade. Henry had assigned no formal investigation, Cass had simply heard something about constructs and was being nosy.

“I don’t recall having that pleasure. I believe that another group encountered her while I attended to different matters. But I may be mistaken. It seems ages ago that we first started exploring these lands and securing our little homestead here.”

Alisa's motivation was likewise mostly born of curiosity.   She'd been called a witch, often enough, in earlier years, due to the unusual way in which she came to be a priestess.  And yet she had never truly met one, and understood little of their craft.

As well, she'd found Pipre to be an interesting personality, and was intrigued to perhaps learn if Elga Verniex really was her mother.

"Your story is a remarkable one, and you have indeed done much, and come a long way," she replied. "Domitius is here as well, and should be joining us shortly. And I'm relieved your blades will be directed at a common foe, and not each other, if we happen to meet any danger," she smiled.

“I will be happy for his company.” Cass smiled deeply. “Lord Domitius has earned his title of Senior Swordlord, proven his prowess, stature, and nobility quite honorably, I should say. While I, on the other hand, have found that dueling is not my forte. Nor are certain aspects of politics, it seems. Strange given my occupation and position with Tusk, I know.”

Cass tried not to chuckle or bite his tongue. He placed his hands behind his back, knowing not else to do with them without a mug, a musical instrument, or a sheaf of papers in his hands. “But I doubt Elga Verniex has ever heard of me, so that may be in my favor.”
This message was lightly edited by the player at 03:49, Thu 28 July 2022.

Alisa smiled, when he rattled off Domitius' accomplishments, "Aye, he has done all of that, and more.  I'm rather proud, I have to confess."     But she also listened intently to what Cass said regarding himself, and was quiet a short time after.  and then replied:

"Well, it sounds like you're being completely honest, which is itself a strength.  And honest men usually don't make the best politicians," she added with a smile.

"I respect the Aldori code and ways, though I don't practice it myself.  It's one kind of honorable approach toward life, but far from the only one.   And if dueling isn't your forte,  I say 'so what?'  Unless it's really what you want to devote yourself to, then I'd say it's no great matter."   She paused.

"How many business interests have you started, Cass?  I recall seeing a list that's too long to remember.   How many jobs do they provide?  And how many families are fed by them?   How many happy memories are your businesses a part of?  Including of course Dom's and my wedding reception.   Bettering and touching people's lives with those things is far more worthy and noble than being a politician."

 Like many good river-going vessels, the ferry has a bilge underneath the main deck and said bilge is an odoriferous location from which there is no earthly reason for anyone to emerge...  And so of course, a good few hours after he could possibly have found himself down there, Vova doMedvyed emerges from the bailing-hatch in the middle of the ferry with an unsteady swaying stride then makes his way over to the port railing with a reflexively polite "Excuse me." before noisily and - with apparent relief - emptying the contents of his stomach over the side.

Cass did laugh a little this time. It was a good natured one and not cynical at all. “I do like to help people get what they want. Or as close to it as can be negotiated. And it is fun to see progress in different areas.” Cass looked a little wistful. “Prosperity for all. It is a dream to hold onto.”

“I do wish you and Dom the fullness of joy together. It is rare for one to find their soulmate.”

Cass watched as Vova doMedvyed burst onto the scene and his gorge emptied over the ferry’s railing. “Trying a new batch of hooch, Vova?” Cass may have had similar problems once or twice before in his life.

OOC:  Directly and indirectly , Cass's business supports about 725 people.

Among there are (something like)  25 warriors, 12 (or so) Experts, an Adept or two and (perhaps) 50 or 60 commoners.  Perhaps 100 direct employees.

The rest are made up of suppliers - brewers, distillers, winemakers - even a few carpenters (replace broken furniture) and other craftsmen.  Most, of course, are the common farmers, smallholders and labourers that provide food, clotes and other services (such as laundry)  to the business.

And, don't forget, they also feed and clothe the casual labourers (Etc etc) as well.

Think BIG pyramid .....

Alisa smiled, sensing that perhaps she'd redirected Cass' focus where it should be.

"Prosperity for all -- hm, quite a good mission statement, I'd say."

She nodded as regards Domitius; "Yes, I got lucky, for certain."

She looked askance at the stricken Vova:  "Oh dear!"   As a new mother of twins, she'd dealt with no little regurgitation, these last few months.  Cuter, when it was a baby, however...

With the arrival of that fellow minor-Medvyed, she cast an eye about, to see if the peacock was present as well...

Dom strode on to the ferry just before it left, he was dressed for travel but with his armour on and sword on his hip.  "Sorry love, urgent message from work kept me bus8erbthan I thought." he said to Alisa as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.  "Lord Mordane, it's good to see you again Cass."

Later as Vova made his dramatic experience Dom smiled fondly but held his council to himself.

 Vic is indeed present, having spent a fair portion of the trip perched in his almighty splendour atop one of the small pennant-masts, where his magnificent tail (furled) could simply be mistaken for another of the coloured strips of cloth that delineate destinations for the benefit of those in need of conveyance... He seems generally unimpressed by the proceedings taking place below him, but since Vic is (by now) generally understood to stand for 'Vicious Bastard' that's no great surprise to anyone.

 Vova meanwhile splashes his face with river-water (which has been cleaned of his recent exertions by the course of their vessel) then lifts himself up with a staggered quality, wiping his mouth before beaming up at the sun with a happy air. A lurch upwards is assayed, rejected and then spontaneously ventured before he arises, arms windmilling slightly to fix the others with the happy, innocent smile of a man for whom consequences can always be a tomorrow problem.

 "Not exactly hooch... Did you know that Kobolds make wine? And they shave gemstones into it for flavour? Something, something mushrooms?" he happily reports, swaying flawlessly with the motion of the boat for a few moments until the fact that everything's steady strikes him and - finding that odd - he looks down, followed by looking around and then declaring, with audible concern "I'm on a boat!"

Alisa smiled, "Glad to have you join us, my lord-husband. You are one of the busiest men in Tusk, so I gathered it was something like that."   

She slipped her hand into Dom's, and then cast her eyes upward, toward the pennant-masts, where she spotted the perching peacock. Who possessed a gaze that might daunt Lamashtu herself...

"Indeed you are, sir," she answered Vova. "A boat is the nearest thing to dreams that hands have ever made, so I've read. Though, it sounds like kobold wine might be good for some really strange ones."   

“Lord Aldori-Solanus,” Cass gave an appropriate bow. “It is good to be in your company again as well, Dom.”

Cass turned to grin at Vova again. What could he say? He liked those who took life by the horns. “I might have to experiment with mushrooms when I get around to doing my own distilling and brewing, but I think that I will leave the gem shavings alone. As well as anything crafted by the kobolds.”

Cass cast about for the skin he carried that housed only water. He offered it toward Vova. “Might a little water help? I don’t happen to have any other remedies to hand.”
This message was last edited by the player at 04:02, Sun 31 July 2022.

Once Vova appeared from the bilges, the captain  called a couple of crewmen to throw him over board, but then called them back when he realised that t he was known to all of the important people on his boat.  And it wasn’t his job to interfere with the Lord mayor of Tusk, and his friends.  There were a couple of other passengers, one looked like a fishermen, the other a small-time merchant, made their way to the very front of the boat and stayed well out of the way of the VIPs and their  antics, although they had bowed and doffed their hats most respectfully when they had come aboard.

The trip across the lake takes about 3 hours, first in the busy waters around tusk – small boats close to the shore, fishing boats a bit further out and then the sight of a V&A Keeler making its way back from Mivon.  As you approach  Reedham, you see the local ‘fleet’, - a single fishing boat a couple of miles out to see, then a local patrol boat, rowing along the coast about half a mile from town – and finally a couple of row boats, working the reed beds.

As the shallop heaves into sight, a few people start to gather around the jetty ready to help with the unloading, but they all stand back respectfully when they see that there is a party of nobles ready to disembark.  A couple of adults bend down to speak to children and you suspect the conversation goes along the lines of  ’That is the Lord Mayor’ and ‘That is the renowned Swordlord, Domitious Solanus’  or even ‘behave now and just stay out of sight’.  The village is small, little more than the jetty, a watch tower for the guard, a graveyard dedicated to Pharasma, and a small inn called The Flying Fish.  A few huts and small cottages complete the village.

It is midafternoon, by the time you get off the boat and get your bearings, probably not enough time to find the swamp witch and get back to the village before it gets dark.

 Over the couple of months that Vova DoMedvyed has been building a reputation as the premier party animal of the Stolen Lands, Vic has been similarly developing one as the kind of bad news that most people would try and exorcise rather than establish a familiar bond with.

 Quite what's going on there is anyone's guess, but since it involves Vova, it's probably nothing anyone should be losing sleep over.

 "Oh, I wouldn't know, I was rather drunk at the time." Vova answers - although who he's answering is a little vague - and he doesn't even seem to notice taking the wineskin when it's offered, with the nipple of it at his lips well before he registers what's in it. That does generate a slightly outraged squawk from the lush who then eyes the skin as though it has personally offended him before offering it back in the general direction of... people... and blinking a few times before visibly perking up and pointing (his finger swaying in a fashion that the motion of the boat cannot entirely explain) "Oooh, there's the Flying Fish! Don't believe anything the barmaid tells you, it could have happened to anyone."

Alisa smiled playfully at Vova, "Well, I don't know. Our cousin Kiera - a very savvy lady - and herself the owner of a fine tavern, tells me you should always listen to the barmaid." 

She turned to regard the nearby establishment, and said to Dom as well as the other two,  "We'll be parking here, for the evening, so it would seem?" 
This message was last edited by the player at 20:35, Tue 02 Aug 2022.

“No need to go mucking about at night.” Cass agreed. <table>“A good night’s sleep and we can start fresh in the morning. I have to say, I am most intrigued by the idea of constructs. I wouldn’t mind an army of golems to defend Silverton.”</table>


Not that he’d have enough coin for an entire army of golems. As much as he was invested in business ventures, Cass did not usually keep much in the way of personal funding. Oh, he never did without a meal or a place to sleep, but he wasn’t exactly out buying the finest of jewelry to give out like baubles either. But who knew how things could change? And even just one golem guard would be a treasure indeed. But he may be entirely wrong about the kind of constructs involved and may be looking at something more along the lines of those wondrous bathing tubs of which he still needed to put in an order for one.

 "Not at all, you should always be polite to the barmaid. Or at least charming. Or failing that, generous." Vova corrects merrily, swaying a little on his way towards the gangplank, which transition takes him from moving in perfect unison with the swell of the lake to swaying alarmingly as if the land is in motion beneath him (which suggests that he's either been on the water for a while in one form or another or is just that drunk).

 Vic meanwhile, glides down from the mast and gives a singularly evil glare at one of the local cockerels which is pecking at the dirt and which - after a long, mutual staring match - thinks better of its place when Vic uses the two-inch steel blade affixed to his spurs (which Vova has no memory of purchasing or fitting) to drag a line through the dirt.

 Vova meanwhile heads more or less right towards the bar. Then left a bit. Then right a bit more. Hooray!

"You'll have to tell us more about these constructs, and their possible uses," said Alisa to Cass.

"I fear my own knowledge extends little beyond certain fables, where one goes crazy, runs amok, and some beleaguered hero has to put it down in a pitched battle."    She placed a hand on Dom's arm, in humor.  "And my husband's busy enough, as it is, without anything like that."   

She glanced again toward the peacock --  feeling certain there was some unusual tale attached to this bird, who had the bearing and air of an archfiend...

"Well," she said to Domitius, "shall we go get our room, then?"   

"Of course love, hopefully we won't have to share."  Dom replied with a smile "It's not often we get to be alone without the children any more." and gave her a wink.

"As for the golems I'm wondering if she could use some of our statues and animate them a couple of guardians for the household could come in handy, especially if we are both away.

The Flying Fish is probably bigger than a fishing village, like Reedham, would normally be able to support, although even then it is more reminiscent of the Road Houses that you would expect to along inland trade routes, so perhaps it is the ferry port that brings in the extra business, who can say.

Inside there is a single common room, with table service provides from a hatch in the wall, which you assume leads to a kitchen and store room.  A small lad, of obvious orcish extraction and probably about eight years old, is desperately clearing tables - while an older half-orc with an apron around his waist, waits for you.  Guiding you to the biggest of the tables, with the best padded seats, and shouting at the boy to fetch a jug of water for the 'nice people'.

It doesn't take long, nor any complicated questions, for him to tell you that his daughter, Helga, works for Lord Henry and sails a boat.  She owns The Flying Fish, and when she is home she works the bar or goes out fishing like any good owner should. He, Dura, came from Pitax to run the inn for her.   The boy, Hix, is his grandson, and is learning the trade.

The rooms were ready for guests anyway, although they aren't really meant for Lords and nobles who aren't travelling incognito.  Each small room holds a pair of bunk beds and c could sleep 4 people, although he offers all three of the rooms to you.  There isn't much else in the rooms, just a simple table, with a bowl and ewer for washing water, and a series of pegs for clothes, on the walls.  However, there is plenty of room under the bunks for small travelling trunks, backpacks or the new valise type bags that are becoming popular.

Dinner is freshly caught fish, that has obviously been grilled over an open fire, accompanied by a bed of mixed  mashed up root  vegetables - or various types.  It is competently cooked, but it isn't a patch on the food that you would expect in even a simple city inn.  There is a local ale to drink, as well as a few bottles of poacher's Pale from the Roth's brewery in Tusk, as well as a basic rose table wine (which you think is based on plums and other fruits, rather than grapes). However, there are no fancier wines nor any spirits available for sale.  He apologizes profusely, but says that Helga says that she won't have stuff that she can't sell from behind the bar.

You are left to your own devices in the tavern, as none of the locals come into the common room during the evening - just Dura and Hix as they serve you.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:23, Mon 08 Aug 2022.

Dom had happily eaten ginner, it may not have been the best meal but it was better than his own attempts at cooking.  There was something to be said for having servants he thought to himself, now if only I could get an item that provides meals from hom everyday.  Content he sat back with an ale and smiled.

"Well my friends it might not be up to your standards at the Mithral Cass but it is beeter than anything I can cook... well burn.

“Oh, I think it is a fine establishment.” Cass said for Dura’s benefit as much as in response to Dom. “Not every meal you find is fit to eat, nor every bed fit to sleep in, despite some of the ridiculous prices asked in many places. The food here is hot, filling, and tasty and the rooms more than serviceable. I would be glad to recommend the establishment to any of my peers.”

Cass took another sip of his Poacher’s Pale Ale. “I serve this particular brand in all of my establishments as well. A good brew. And I am thankful to have others do the cooking for me at every chance as I have a tendency to burn things too.”

Naturally, she intended that Domitius and herself would have a room together, unless lack of vacancies prohibited that.

"My aunt is an extremely good cook.  She taught me, though there were always other things I was more interested, or wrapped up, in.  Hopefully, I can hold my own.  But I'll never be near her mark."

As to the place: "This is fine," she agreed.   "And by the Spear, did you both hear that?  This is Helga's family!"   

Domitius, Cass, and herself were all half-elves.   The relatively lucky half-breeds.  Her own mixed blood had brought challenges, particularly being of the Spire blood.  But she knew well the orcish faced bigger ones.  She was always glad when she saw a family that prospered, like this one, in spite of it.

Dom and Alisa are shown to one of the rooms, while Cass and Vova get one each.  Vic, the peacock, is given a wary eye by Dura, but the half-orc knows enough not to issue warnings or admonitions about familiars and other such creature.  Those who own them, or who are owned by them, tend to be tough customers, and it is easier to clean up afterwards - or just bill for damages.

The rooms are basic, and aren't up to the standards that you would expect at home, but they are clean, and much better than the conditions you experience while you are out on the road, working for Henry.  The night passes peacefully and, next morning, ewers of warm water are delivered to each room, along with a message that breakfast will be ready shortly.

Downstairs, there is a limited selection of foods for breakfast - a warm porridge, flavoured with some sort of mild spice, fresh flatbreads, and a selection of preserved plums and berries.

Later, when you are ready to leave, Dura offers you another flatbread, a hard-boiled egg, a few slivers of smoked eel and an apple as a packed lunch.

Having heard your conversation the night before, he directs to a small path, leading away from the village.  "That should take you to Mistress Verniex", he says, "But she can be really rude to strangers".
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:52, Sun 14 Aug 2022.

“Rudeness is often easier mended than violence,” Cass offered with a smile. He also thanked Dura for the kindness and hospitality shown and offered forth a small bag containing twenty gold coins. It should be enough to cover the group’s food and lodgings and add in a bit of a gratuity as well.

OOC: This is where I find out that the reason this thread had no new messages is I had another iteration of it open earlier in my tab tree and it was automatically marking it as read each time I opened my browser.

 ---

 When it comes to receiving hospitality, Vova is the maester that he is at so little else... Food of merely edible quality is 'home cooked', beer and ale meant for local folk 'rustic' and 'authentic', simple decor 'honest' and indifferent but enthusiastic service 'energetic'.

 Anyone else might make that sort of thing sound patronising but the sheer enthusiasm with which Vova hurls himself at life (and any object which might reasonably be expected to contain alcohol) underscore his words with a refreshing honesty - it likely also helps that he pays well, tips generously and patently has not the slightest idea or care of the value of money. Set against this is the fact that he knows all the words to 'She was only the ironmonger's daughter but she knew a surprising amount about fish as well' and is possessed of a singing voice which, while powerful and enthusiastic, could generate good revenue for a man or woman possessed of a strong constitution and a willingness to file the kinks out of it.

 Vic meanwhile, more or less vanishes (ludicrously vibrant tail and all) into the shadows fairly soon after everyone gets settled and, come the morning (and breakfast) is to be found next to the hearth with half a dozen dead rats he's hunted up from barn, cellar and outbuilding... One of which he slowly crushes the head of in his claws while staring dead at Vova (who is enjoying breakfast without the slightest hint of shame or regret).

The path isn’t very clear, and is clearly not used regularly, but you can follow it fairly easily – at least to start with.  A mile or so outside the village, the ground becomes wetter, and there are small standing pools  and wetland plants in evidence.  Further on, the ground becomes swampy and there is an unpleasant smell of tainted air, and the insects are suddenly very noticeable.

Then a mud hut comes in sight, on one of the few mounds of solid ground, a thin tendril of grey smoke rising from its roof.  The hummock is surrounded by  a waist high wooden fence,  which looks as if it made from some combination of dead branches mixed in with parts of broken furniture.  There is a gate in the fence, but it hangs askew, and the fence is festooned with crude fetishes crafted out of sticks, feathers, and animal bones.  A path from the gate, leads past a pumpkin headed scarecrow up to the door of the hut.

As you approach, you notice a fist-sized rusted iron bell hangs from a hairy length of rope tied to a crooked post next to the gate.

"Aah now this looks familiar, I do believ this is the right place, yon bell will need to be rung to announce our presence and I would keep an eye on the scarecrow, it's likely to be a golem or something akin to it if the rumours are true.  Last time I was here we parted on good terms and let's hope we do the same again." Dm said looking at the hut it hadn't changed since the last time he had been here despite Pipre's success and wealth it seemed her mother was happy in her own home.

 For lack of anything much better to do come the morning, Vova ambles along with the little shopping trip, having invited himself into their company by the simple expedient of turning up when they set out - before long he's more or less sober and, aside from a brief venture into speculating over whether that particular frog over there is the one that makes you see 'the colours' if you lick it (said frog, looking alarmed promptly dives into a pool) manages to amble along with relatively little friction until they arrive at the hovel, which he promptly declares to be "Charmingly ad-hoc!" before - seemingly at the urging of Domitius, or at least lacking reason not to, wandering over to ring the bell with a measure of enthusiasm.

 Vic, meanwhile has been padding along at the rear and occasionally picking on things unfortunate enough to cross his path.

"Really, Dom?  You've already done this?  And didn't have a bad time of it? That's reassuring!"

She eyed the possible golem.  "I can't say I know my golems...but one made of straw, wood, and a carved up pumpkin seems less threatening than other sorts.   I bet Vic could take this thing apart, real easy," she smiled, obviously in jest, but also not really doubting it.

It is all quiet for a few moments after Vova rings the bell, then a window opens in the hut and an old woman's face pokes out.  Her white hair is long straggly and unkempt, and her skin has a bright greenish tinge.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" she shouts

 Vova, bright eyed by this point, despite the hour (it still, technically being morning) waves merrily at the head poking out of the window and yells back "SOMETHING TO DRINK WOULD BE NICE!", his voice and expression both cheerfully devoid of anything resembling the slightest hint of an idea why they're actually there, because - as we may recall - he was drunk on a boat and then wandered into the swamp with the others because 'that just seemed to be what people were doing'.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:48, Mon 29 Aug 2022.

It required a little willpower, but Alisa did manage not to laugh at Vova's response.   She put a fist to her lips and pretended to lightly cough.

And then looked, blinking, at both Domitius and Cass.   Realizing she was uncertain how to answer the question, and that things might go way sideways, if someone didn't offer a better reply than Vova's...
This message was last edited by the player at 22:40, Mon 29 Aug 2022.

Dom suppressed his own laugh at Vova's response but did not hide his smile.  "Madam Beldane, we wished to discuss matters of an arcane nature with you regarding your constructs and whether you would be interested in doing some work on behalf of Tusk.  Also your daughter Pipre sends her regards.  May we enter?" he asked politely.


OOC: I think that is her name....

The Old Beldame is about to shout again, but waits as Dom calls out his request.  Her eyes narrow slightly as she takes in the clothes that the group are wearing, and she decides that they might not be the normal peasantry who come calling at her gate for love potions and the like.

"I bet she didn't."  She shouts back, before relenting slightly and adding.  "You can come in, but don't come too close  ...  I reckon that one" and she points to Vova, "Smells bad ..."

 It's not an entirely unfounded accusation because there is something fundamentally and elementally seedy about Vova doMedvyed which manages to transcend species and cultures to such a degree that, were he to wander the dingy alleyways of a cryogenic ice moon, the many-legged inhabitants would - before registering his alien nature - remark to one another over mugs of ammonia slush that 'he's a wrong 'un' (while shielding said drinks - not unwisely - from being taken).

 On the other hand, those who were with him through the course of the morning happen to know that he's wearing a rather pleasant sandalwood -based cologne at the moment, almost as if he has no idea he'd be traipsing through a swamp all day.

 Sniffing an armpit, he looks briefly concerned and then brightens before calling back "Tolerably! I think I may have fallen in the river a time or two!" before throwing the gate open and holding it for everyone.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:22, Sun 04 Sept 2022.

PM

With a nod to Vova and a smile Domitius entered the garden "Well Pipre did say to say hello at least and did ask me to check if you needed anything.  May I introduce the Lord Mayor of Tusk Cass, my beloved wife the Priestess of Avacna Alisa and our compatriot Vova and his aaah... bird..." Domitius responded with a flourish.

As you climb the path towards the hut a lone crow, on a distant tree, caws loudly and the scarecrow turns its head to follow your progress up the path.

The old woman watches you closely, and the green tint of her skin and pointed ears become more apparent, and you can see no resemblance to Pipre what-so-ever.  Her eyes fix on Vic, and then swivel towards Vova for a moment – but it is the bird that she addresses.  ”Keep your damned pet under control, and stay away from my herbs, or I’ll burn those pretty feathers down to quills.”  Her voice is both harsh and shrill at the same time, and she clearly expects to be obeyed.

As Dom introduces you, you see her eyes flick to Cass and a thin smile crosses her lips – and you suspect the price of whatever you might want to purchase has just gone up.

”Now.  What do you want?” she asks in that querulous tone of voice that implies a small level of displeasure.

“In deference to the precision of your mental scrutiny, I will spare you flowery words.” Cass began in the sincerity of voice that was normally reserved for his most trusted companions. Here was one who obviously knew who he was, and also perhaps that he had a reputation as a spokesman of some sort, so the opportunity to be frank was almost as refreshing as it was alarming.

“We have heard of your ability with constructs, which is of course borne out by the activity of your scarecrow. We have interest in learning more and perhaps asking if you would be interested in crafting constructs for payment.” Cass was afraid that he sounded a bit too much like a merchant at the last, but facts were facts, and a merchant was indeed at least a part of himself. He thought Pipre’s mother would at least be pleased to get directly to the bottom line.

 Said 'Pet' hops up onto the fencepost to glare imposingly at those around him before fixing the scarecrow with a singularly hostile look and standing in a way that can't help but draw attention to the inch-and-a-half polished steel spurs he's wearing...

 ...Vova meanwhile, steps forwards and starts to open his mouth, only to be silenced by a harsh 'Squonk!' from Vic, one which is followed a moment later by another when he starts to open his mouth again. The third effort sees a quieter 'squonk' noise and a thin sliver of wood being slowly shaved off the top of the fence-post as Vic holds and maintains eye-contact with Vova, then - after the latter gentleman starts to pout, flirts his tail-feathers and affixes  the old woman with an imperious, but mannerly look.

 She after all, has correctly divined the power structure here.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:19, Sat 17 Sept 2022.

Alisa remained quiet throughout the exchange, observing and listening.

Their host was quite a bit like the wicked witches who proliferated the fables she grew up on.  And, for all that Alisa, was a sober and mature kind of person, there was still a somewhat impish side to her, that hadn't forgotten a child's perspective of things.

Being a new mother had only brought it a little more to the fore, in fact.   And she wished she might have uttered her own squonk, in solidarity with their peacockian peer.

But naturally, she couldn't, and instead paid attention to discern more about their host, as well as the ways Cass and Domitius were dealing with her.

"My own query is similar to Lord Mordanes, I was wondering if you could enchant stone statues to act as guardians. That could be useful should there be an attack upon Tusk or somewhere." Dom having met the old dame before seemed to take her irascible nature in stride.

The Old Beldame listened to Cass, with a strange look on her face, but became more animated when Dom spoke.  "I always had a hankering to make one of those Catty Statuey things.  If'n you brings me a big statue, I'll have a go at making it into a guardian thing for you.  It doesn't really matter what it is, but it has to be big, and made from a massive block of nice stone. It should look like a woman with two curvy swords, but I think that so long as it looks about the right shape, and has swords, I can make it work.  It'll cost, mind!  I'll want some big diamonds along with the statue.  You know, those really big ones that are worth about a thousand of those gold pieces that you use!"

Dom eyed the Old Beldame and slowly nodded "I believe we can manage that, though I'm thinking we may need a second down the track, armed with spear and shield.  Did you have a preference for the stone? Something like granite would be most suitable and I can get my stonesinger involved to make sure they are of the highest quality.  Swords at rest I think would be a suitable pose." he pauses and strokes his beard "Did you want it to look like anyone in particular?"

The Old Beldame cackles with pleasure, then replies "Granite works just fine, but it needs to be a really good statue." she pauses for a moment, then adds "It doesn't have to look like anyone."

When Dom mentioned the second statue, it struck that he might be envisioning a statue of Acavna, or a warrior in her likeness, as maybe a guardian at the main temple.   She couldn't help smile at the thought.

He can be so thoughtful, as well as possessing such vision.   And as far as the work, she knew by now that Hargrym could make just about anything...

Nodding Dom looked thoughtful "Have no fear they shall be of the finest quality, I shall consult with the stonesingers for the most suitable material." then with a smile "I do believe Lord Mordane had a query about instruction in the manufacture of these wonders."

Cass nodded at Dom’s word. The Lord had a strong grasp of any situation that was laid before him, and for this Cass was grateful. “Would you be willing to teach this art to others? It would be a great benefit to the lands if we could station a number of these guardians at various defensive posts.”

The old beldame cackles at Cass's request.  "What?  And have hordes of young wannabees around all the time, disturbing me and stopping me doing my own work?  Why do you think you had to walk so far through the mud to get here?  Why do you think my daughter tied up this area so it couldn't be developed?

I like the quiet and the mud, and I don't much like people!"  She finishes vehemently with a glance towards her scarecrow.

Off in the distance, a lone crow, sitting atop an old tree, caws loudly - and various small birds fly up and away from the garden.

So, the persnickety dame was in fact Pipre's mother...Must've been an interesting childhood, Alisa reflected.

Are we done here?

“It seems that we have little left to do here, as you have already stated your terms.” Cass said politely. “We will need to acquire the gems that you prefer for payment, as well as the materials needed to produce one of your wonders. After that time, perhaps you will find the payment agreeable enough to you to desire to produce more, or think of other ways that we can purchase your wonders.”