The town of Monteci sat on a bay in the sea, its fishermen heading out to work in the wider gulf while the rest of the town went to work in the fields and shops.

The coastal road, for those who traveled from Shipton, led the traveler first past the church of St Magnus and the town cemetery.  Continuing on the road, there were fields and houses, and shops.  Near the center of the town stood the inn, with its cheerful sign depicting what appeared to be an orange tabby cat with its head wholly inside a blue pot with custard dripping from the overturned pot.  Nearby stood an area with some permanent stalls and an open space where, on the first of the month would be a fair with people coming from outlying farms to trade goods.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:40, Thu 20 June 2019.

This particular traveler didn't go past the church.   For it was her destination...

St. Magnus' was a humble construction, compared to the central church in Calandia, where she'd lived, studied, and trained since her fifth summer.  But, she was glad to see it, regardless.   Here, she would make the acquaintance of more devoted, true servants of Atu.   As well, there was a swamp nearby with plants that could not be found on Calandia, and it was an opportunity to expand her medicinal knowledge.

Niall was the name of Monteci's head priest, so she'd been told. She took the cobbled path off the main road, and wound her way toward the church, so she could report in and have an introduction.

Entering the grounds of the church, Lenelle could see a figure busily working to tidy the grounds within the walls of the cemetery, a man dressed in the simple robe of an acolyte.  He looked toward Lenelle, and then positioned himself to keep his face more hidden as he continued in his labors.

A youth of perhaps twelve summers, also dressed in the plain garb of an acolyte, a wooden symbol suspended from a chain about his neck, approached, and asked Lenelle to follow.  Within the church, there was a short hallway that led to the right, and down this hallway, her guide knocked at the first door.

An older man, likely to be closer to sixty, his garb declaring him a full priest with a well-polished silver symbol of Atu, beckoned Lenelle into the office.

"Well met," he said, "I am Brother Niall.  Will you be tarrying with us awhile, or only for a night?"

Westin was in a good mood as he approached Monteci. He enjoyed exploring and coming to a new town was an adventure to him. New people to meet, spices to taste and perhaps purchase, recipes to exchange and, of course, a chance to meet another mage and, if he was lucky, learn new spells. As he mulled these prospects over in his mind, he passed, without much of a glance, a church devoted to some human deity. Churches of other races were pretty irrelevant to him. The cemetary, however, held his attention a little longer.

The poor humans with their terribly short life span. If he was human, he probably would already be dead by now! Even so, he hadn't really lived long enough to fully appreciate the brevity of human lives. The cemetary, though, together with the odd way humans bury and mark their dead, served as a reminder and a lesson. If he didn't make it back in 40 or 50 years, the town, the people, the layout would be completely different, if it was here at all.

He continued on noting the various shops and houses on the way until he reached the center of town and arrived at the inn. He paused for a moment or two and stared curiously at the sign of the dropping custard pot. The inn was advertising their cooking. It was is even better than he had hoped! He resumed and eagerly entered the inn, intent on asking the innkeeper for a room, but more importantly, for some of that custard touted on their sign.

A jangle of bells heralded Westin's entrance into the Cat and Custard Pot, and shortly thereafter, a human man well into his middle years emerged.

"Well," began the man, and he hesitated as if considering whether to attempt a guess as he seemed to be scanning the young elf for a sign of red or orange, and then he continued, the pause so brief as to make it unclear if it had in fact existed, "met.  Do you come to dine, or will you also wish to stay?"

"Both," Westin replies, "though the former is more pressing. So is custard the house specialty?" Westin asks as he takes a seat.

"Let me ask too, is there a herb and spice shop in town? I have some culinary interest you might say."

"Welcome to the Cat and Custard Pot," he replied, "since you're here well ahead of the first, there's plenty of rooms. A single would be to your liking?  For one asil, the room for the night and dinner.  Of course, on the first, there's the fair over on the square across the way, and you're apt to find some such of interest.  And then there's Ethna's cooking here, of course."

She inclined her head, in proper greeting.    "All Saints' blessings, Brother Niall. Longer than a night.  The next step in my training is to visit a number of outlying churches, such as St. Magnus'.  With a certain study assignment at each. Medicinal plants that grow nearby, in this case."   She inclined her head again.  "Beyond that, I am at your service, if there are things I can assist with."

The traveler walked into town as if he had lived there his entire life, but in fact ... he had never laid eyes upon Monteci before this day.  Such was the ease with with Silas glided through life.  Without a care in the world, as if the world owed him a favor ... and only he and the universe were in on some grand joke.

The middle aged man bore an easygoing grin and nodded to the other travelers and passers-by in a a genial fashion.  The smell of salt air strong upon the breeze, which carried also the sounds of the fishermen down by the docks, singing and working throughout their day.

Ah, The man thought, pleased to be in such company.  These people will be the honest, hard working sort.

Seeking out an inn, Silas happened upon the Cat and Custard.  He entered the building and took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the light within.

"Innkeep."  He said, crossing over toward the bar.  "I've only just arrived in your fair town, and would stay for a spell.   Do you have rooms to let?"

In St Magnus Church

"That will be very good," replied Niall.  He looked over to the young acolyte who was still in the room.  "Go let Eilis know to set another plate for the evening, and get a room ready."

Once the acolyte had left, Niall turned back to Lenelle.  "You are welcome to stay as long as your studies require," he said.  "Down at Colin's store, I believe he has some maps of the swamps, but you might want to have a guide.  Have you been studying the healing plants long?"

---

In the Cat and Custard Pot

As Aidan waited for Westin's response, Silas entered.

"I do, indeed," said Aidan, "and well it is that you're here before the first.  You might not have been so lucky then.  If it's a single you're wanting, I have some for an asil a night, including dinner."

"Splendid." Silas replied, his grin spreading. "I'll gladly take a room, sir."  He said, sliding over a single silver asil.

Turning then toward the elf, Silas leaned back upon the bar, propping his elbows upon it.

"I've wandered a fair bit of Calandia, but still have not had much experience with the fair folk."  He said, looking at Westin's manner of dress and his elfin ears.

"An error I should like to remedy."  Here, he extended a hand in greeting.  "Silas.  Silas the Bold."

"Nice to meet you," Westin says to Silas as he clasps his hand with a smile. "I'm Westin na'Belva of the Cove Tanasi though you can call me Westin if you prefer. It is true. Many of my kin do prefer to keep to themselves and have become adept at not being seen but I am not among them, though by choice."

"I was just getting ready to have lunch. Would you like to join me? I would be interested to hear of your travels," he asks.

He then remembers the innkeeper still waiting for his response. "My apologies. Yes, I would like a room, a single please, as well as a chance to savor Ethna's cooking. A table for two?" he asks looking at Silas questioningly.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:26, Fri 21 June 2019.

Cat and Custard Pot

"Very good.  I can show you up to your rooms whenever you're ready," said Aidan, taking the two asil.  "Ethna's got a puffer stew on, and what would you like to drink with it?"

"A small tankard of mead would be wonderful," Westin says."Do you drinks come from a local brewery in town?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:12, Sat 22 June 2019.

St. Magnus':

She nodded at his advice, reckoning that a guide would be a good idea.   A swamper...swamp-whatever you called someone who explored swamps, she was not.

"Thank you for making a place for me. I've studied the medicinal arts over the past four years.  Knowing uses of certain plants are part of it.  Though, I've not studied herbalism, as such.   If you don't mind my asking, how long has St. Magnus' been here?"

Cat and Custard Pot

"There's a farm out on the edge of town, he keeps bees and makes mead," replied Aidan.  "I brew a little myself.  Especially over the winter."

He walked back to the bar and brought over two mugs filled with mead.  "I'll have your food brought out shortly."

He then left for the kitchen.

St Magnus

Niall smiled at Lenelle's question, and sat back for a moment.  "Our town has been here for eight hundred years, and the first St Magnus church was built in the spring after the town itself was founded.  There'd been a terrible fight with the Cullican about three hundred years ago, and much of the town was burned, but the folk of the day beat them back and rebuilt.  Myself, I've been at St Magnus here in Monteci nearly thirty years."

She inclined her head in respect of such long history, and the people's spirit, as well as Brother Niall's three decades of service.

"I understand the Cullican practice their piracy still, though it has been very long since last they troubled Calandia.  Thievery, raiding, stealing," she shook her head, "only of short benefit in this life.  Such would be better to think of the cost to their soul in the next, but they hardly ever do."

Silas nodded and followed Westin to a table.  He took a sip of the mead and savored the taste for a moment.

After taking his seat, Silas spends a few moments catching the elf up on the news of the road.  It was clear that the man was the type to enjoy a good story.

"...But enough about that."  He said, a casual wave of the hand, finishing the last of the mundane news.  "I would seek a larger tale.  A saga worth creating a song for the ages."  He patted his lyre.  "One day, they'll be singing songs of me, friend."

"And you?"  He asked.  "What brings a Tanasi so far from his homeland?  Love?  Money? Adventure?"

He paused, a mischievous glint appearing in his eye and a grin spreading upon his lips. "Revenge?"

"Revenge?" Westin says with surprise. "I hadn't even considered that. Has someone wronged you?" He asks, concern and sorrow in his eyes. He pauses, strategically taking a drink slowly from his tankard, giving Silas ample time to respond, willing to listen at length.

Eventually, he responds to Silas's original question. "Well I'm here because, ... I suppose you might say I'm adventurous though I hadn't thought of it as such. I come from a small community of elves, just 3 families, on a very small island. Tiny island actually. It was a nice place for a while but after 8 or 9 decades I was ready for a change. So in that sense I am definitely adventurous. I had already been coming to some of the larger islands for supplies for a little while, maybe 2 decades, and had gotten to know some of the humans. That made moving here much easier. It also helped that over the years I had given them a taste of my cooking, which they loved. Told me if I ever wanted to a job as a cook, I was welcome and so, just recently, I took them up on that offer."

"One of my more recent interests is the arcane arts. Spent some time learning the art of spellcraft. Even hoped to maybe visit the town mage and talk to him a bit. Some might call that adventurous too though it's not like I've ever summoned a demon or something."

"So what about you? What of your family and occupation? Are you a wandering minstrel? Now that sounds like the adventuring life and have to admit, has a certain appeal I find intriguing."

"Wandering minstrel."  Silas repeated.  Saying the word slowly, as if testing it and finding it savory.  "I suppose that's as good as any description."

"I have a love of story, of song, of heroic deeds and derring-do.  I know all the sagas — and would write some of my own."

"I am a bard by trade." He admitted, patting his spellwrought lyre.  "I too can weave spells of a sort ... but I do not claim complete dominion over the Art as a wizard does.  Rather, my humble effects are shaped out of the ambient magicks — focused really — through song and melody."

Cat and Custard Pot

A youth, with the ungainly gait of one who had seemingly overnight gained five inches of height, but whose face showed clear kinship with the innkeeper, approached the table where Westin and Silas were now sitting, and set down a wooden tray and spoon in front of each.  On the trays were bowls scooped out of a barley bread.  Inside the bowl was a creamy broth seasoned with dill and containing a number of small pieces of fish, and a sprinkling of minced lemon balm leaves over the top of the dish.

---

St Magnus

“Indeed, their actions never take consequences into consideration, sometimes even those of this life,” replied Niall.  “From time to time, some who have escaped from Cullican captivity have made their way here.  It seems they are still more active further north, in the Thousand Islands.  Too many places for them to hide, it seems.”

“But, let's consider happier thoughts,” he said, rising from his seat.  “Let me show you our gardens.  Those will be familiar enough to you, I'm sure.  Now, let's go by the room, so you can put your things there.”

Niall led Lenelle down the hallway and then to the right, and paused at the open door.

Within, there was a narrow bed, a chest at the foot of the bed, and a table and chair with an unlit candle in the simple silver candlestand.

She entered.   It was similar, if a little smaller and un-personalized compared to her quarters at the abbey on Calandria.    It felt familiar enough, and would be more than adequate for her stay.     She placed her things inside, went back out with Niall.

"How many of our brothers and sisters serve here, if I may ask?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:47, Mon 24 June 2019.

"Thank you, this looks really tasty," Westin says to the server. "Oh, one thing I forgot to ask. Is there a friendly mage in town who might be open to a visit? If so, where does he abode?"

Once the server leaves, Westin explains to Silas, "always looking for a friendly mage to exchange a few spells".
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 02:12, Tue 25 June 2019.

Cat and Custard Pot

The youth blinked, and said, "Well, there's Malachy, he lives in town, and I guess he's friendly enough.  Not like Máelodor--" He gulped.  "But no one heard from him in ages."

He started away from the table, stumbled, and then caught himself as he returned to the kitchen.

---

St. Magnus

After Lenelle had unburdened herself of the goods she had carried with her in her travels, Niall led her outside.

Here there were carefully tended sections of arnica, comfrey, basil, and rosemary.

"I am the only priest here," he replied, "but I have seven acolytes who live here."

She eyed the four sorts of plants, familiar with each and their uses in healing, and noting that the garden appeared to be well tended.

"Did you focus on medicinal studies, Brother Niall?    Or something other?"

Westin will turn his attention to his meal, noting the overall taste as well as any hints of new spices he might not be familiar with. He will take his time eating, trying to decide if it is worth asking to meet the Ethna and inquire about recipes and spices.

After a while, though, he starts becoming full and his attentions returns to his conversation with Silas. "I do think it might be worth it to give this mage Malachy a visit. You might find it useful as well, Silas, if not now perhaps sometime in the future, I believe. Some elvish bards acquire the knowledge of spellcraft, indeed becoming quiet capable. I'm guessing it's the same with humans though perhaps I am wrong? Would you like to accompany me there once we are done here?"

"That sounds like a splendid idea."  Silas replied.  "Perhaps this Malachy will give us the lay of the land as it were.  If there is any adventuring to be had in these parts — lost tombs, forgotten treasures and the like — a wizard would surely know about it."

Truth be told, the bard had been intrigued from the moment the serving lad had mentioned Maleodor's name.  Particularly his disappearance.  It did not sound as if the wizard was much-loved, but usually, when a wizard went missing ... at least the underlying story would not disappoint.

St Magnus

"I've done a small study of herbal healing," replied Niall, and he smiled.  "Though I am far from the most learned in that line of study.  Truth be, my talent seems to be but to shepherd the folk of Monteci in the ways pleasing to Atu.  Tending the gardens is one task for the acolytes, to help them learn patience and diligence."

"These, then, are well-known to you?"

Cat and Custard Pot

After enough time had passed that Westin and Silas had been able to consume their meal and finish their drinks, Aidan returned to the tableside.

"Do you want any more mead?" he asked.  "Else, if you'd like to set things in your rooms, I can show you them now."

She smiled.  "That's a blessed enough talent.   And, I'm certain the garden is good for what you say."  She nodded.    "I'm familiar with all four.   Commonly used, each of those."

"I think we're good," Westin says with a glance at Silas. "I would like to check into my room."

"How about we meet back here in 10 minutes and head over to Malachy's place?" he asks Silas. Turning to Aidan, he asks, "I don't suppose you would give directions to Malachy's, would you?"

This message was last edited by the player at 01:49, Fri 28 June 2019.

Cat and Custard Pot

Aidan led his guests upstairs, stopping before two doors.  "These are some of my singles," he said.  "They're not locked now, no point when there's none in there."

Inside the room, there was a bed with a pieced quilt, and at the foot of the bed was a chest with two keys sitting atop it.

"The smaller key is for your footlocker," said Aidan, "and the larger for the room when you leave it during your stay."

"Malachy?  Well, if you follow the road across the bridge and on around, you'll see his tower."

---

St Magnus Church

Niall inhaled deeply, it seemed that the gardens were a place that pleased him, and he seemed to relax a little.

"Most of the folk here are of good heart, and live simply enough.  I have the acolytes also work to make balms and some simples."  He looked at Lenelle, and said, "In the past few years, we have had a little tension in the town.  There's a silver mine, Sean comes up from the south with a charter, and Sir Cathal acknowledged him, and the mine started in three years ago.  There's some that worry that the mine will change Monteci, or draw the Cullican back here.  Then there's others who think that if the mine does change Monteci, it'd all be for the good."

"Thank you," Westin said. He entered in, grabbed the keys and closed the door. He inspected the room. Satisfied, he pulled most of his items out of his backpack, only keeping his spell book, dagger, belt pouch and a wineskin. The rest of his items, he stowed in his footlocker, locking it when done. He exited the room and locked the door and headed downstairs to meet Silas. Once Silas is ready, they go to Malachy's tower.

"I can understand the concern.   Wealth may be used for good, like any tool, yet too often leads to the sin of greed.   Monteci seems to be happy and healthy the way it is.   It would be a shame to see it change, in a bad way.  In my prayers, I will include Monteci."