Artor is able to find a path toward the river, although it doesn't seem to be the same path they followed earlier.  But it's a pretty sure bet that the big mass of trees is growing around the water.  At least there aren't any more gullies try to navigate around.

To the south, as the grasslands become a bit denser and the areas of tall vegetation a bit more frequent, herds of animals, aneens and others, can be seen browsing and resting in the shade.  There are no predators apparent (at the moment).

OOC: I would like to offer a Group GM intrusion.  Any one of you may pay 1 XP to cancel it.

OOC: 1 XP for all.

As Alyssa navigates an area of tall boulders, the pace of the cart slows down to allow for better maneuvering and the poor visibility.  The stones sometimes tower over the cart and cast deep shadows in the small canyons between the rough "peaks".  Making what she hopes is the final turn around a vast rock that seems to be the end of the field, Alyssa sees directly in her path an ornate table and three hovering, blue-skinned humanoids staring straight at her.  Except, they have no eyes!

The giant stones are too close together to permit evasive action.  Unless the cart stops immediately, it will crash into the beings.

Alyssa tries to get the cart to break to a halt or in the worst case scenario turn the vehicle so it does not hit the humanoids.


14:05, Today: Alyssa Yulo rolled 18 using 1d20.  Speed Roll (with one level of effort).
This message was last edited by the player at 12:06, Fri 16 July 2021.

Hoa Sen braces herself as Alyssa tries to convince the conveyance to stop. When it does, she hops out almost immediately, observing the eyeless humanoids more carefully and trying to maintain a balance of "ready" and "unthreatening" in her posture.

Derrick is barely able to brace himself as the cart comes to a rapid stop. When he straightens again, he takes a closer look at the obstacle in their way. Not wishing to antagonize them, he refrains from reaching for his weapon. Instead, he addresses them. "Greetings strangers."

Likely due in no small part to her cautious pace, Alyssa is able to stop the cart, albiet only 10 feet away from the ornate table.  Derrick is jostled in the trailer, and Artor sprints a little to make sure he isn't in the way.  A cloud of dust envelopes the humanoids and the table, although they do not seem to react to it.

The humanoids lean their heads together, perhaps to confer, although they make no sounds.  When they straighten their posture again, the one in the center speaks with an unnervingly broad mouth, flashing pearly green (?) teeth.  "Salutations, altered one.  This three seeks parley with community royalty.  Trade terms are sought." The creature's broken Truth carries an accent unfamiliar to any of you.

From above, somewhere out of view atop one of the massive stones forming this narrow lane, a more proficient speaker in a familiar baritone pipes up.  "Well, this is quite unexpected.  I'm rather curious how you'll work this out."

The blue ones silently confer again.  "Additional parties to be not invited in parley," the center one says, directing his voice upward.

"Oh, I won't interfere.  I'm certainly not competition, just a neutral observer."

"Status accepting with non-interference assurance," replies the blue one closest to the rock on the left.

Derrick furrows his brow as the humanoids speak. He is about to reply when their old invisible friend speaks up. Derrick looks in the direction of the voice out of habit, but quickly returns his attention to the blue-skinned strangers around the table. "Um... right, parley." He looks down at his companions. "Maybe one of you should handle this?"

"As always, Dirk," Hoa Sen says, glancing up to the voice from above as she steps forward. Here, at least, she's in her element...even if she's already preparing to lean on her fellows' expertise once the talking is done.

To the trio of humanoids, the arkus offers the Order's salute. "I will speak for this five in parley. You speak of trade terms? In what do you trade?"

"Oh, and she addresses me by name!  What capable emissaries you are.  Canthus did select well for this particular errand."  The tone of voice is more surprise and respect than sarcasm, although it's not entirely clear.

The humanoids ignore the voice from above. They nod, just barely, to Hoa.  "Negotiations are sought, but beyond this quintet is imperative.  Critical mass of partners for profit requisite.  Effort will immense be exerted.  Canthus negotiates or the parley evaporates."  The one in the center continues to speak to Hoa, bright red lips enunciating well the odd accent.  The other two have stepped back a pace and reached out a hand toward each other, fingertips just on the verge of contact, and held there.

In reply to Immortal Eye (msg # 486):

Alyssa just looks flabbergasted at the curious humanoids her jaw definitely dropped. As negotiations start she whispers to the rest of the party. "Did anyone get hurt?"

Grateful that Hoa is taking the lead with discussions, Derrick relaxes. As always, he tries to keep an eye, or ear, out for the mysterious Dirk.

Sprinting to avoid both conveyance and table, Artor’s mask expresses his frown at the revelation of their neutral observer, a frown quickly smoothed over lest it sour the negotiations. Instead, it is replaced with the quirk of an eyebrow at the name of the settlement from which they set out. He speak softly, not wishing to usurp Hoa Sean’s position as negotiator, but loud enough that both parties might choose to heed his words, should they wish, “Perhaps our hosts might begin with a gift - a trifle, knowing where the name of acanthus came to them, and how?”

Subtly, Hoa nodded to Artor...though Edgewood Dirk had named the settlement, the being hadn't provided enough context for these strangers to know it as a potential trade partner. "Our authority to negotiate is partial at best. Perhaps you could explain what immense efforts might be taken on behalf of a place so very far away? None this side of the Veil have heard of Canthus before hearing about it from us."

The blue humanoids lean into each other again, the center one now joining the almost-finger-touching of the others.  After some moments of discussion (?), they separate again and the center humanoid explains, "Seek trade arrangements this group does.  Arranged for use of reconnaissance equipment unorthodox.  Not-yet opportunities are noted and pursued.  Trifle is gifted."

The third humanoid, the one who had remained silent up to this point, pipes up.  There is a slight bit of anxiety in their voice.  "Please specify partial authority."

Derrick looks at Hoa, then back at the strangers. "I think she means that anything we agree to may be overruled by the people of Canthus. We were just sent here to scout."

"Our authority is to find and select a site for resettlement. That could include arrangements with local agents." Hoa Sen says, nodding at Derrick. "Our authority to commit Canthus' resources is limited at best, though more general arrangements are likely to stick." The arkus tries to parse the humanoids' statements. "Have you been looking through time for...arrangements?"

In reply to Hoa Sen (msg # 493):

Alyssa who had been silent so far added "We have a hard time processing information about the future or possible futures. Would it be possible to keep discussions in the present? Me and my companions can't sense the future in the same way as you clearly do."

The blue-skinned humanoids confer with each other before the center one answers again.  "Scouts of our faction utilize acquired technology of tachyon monitoring in identify likely opportunities trading."

The creature on the right, who has not spoken until now, moves forward to the table.  They take a number of objects from one pocket and place them on the table.  In a high, reedy voice, they explain, "What sought is."  From a different pocket in their robes, which seem to hover above the ground, they pull other things and create a new pile on the table.  "What offered is."

The first pile seems to be broken bits of synth, pieces that may have once been cyphers, and less-identifiable fragments.

The second pile is easily recognizable as shins.  What's in front of you is easily a month's income of a wealthy merchant.

"Not indicative profit of all trades," it adds, as it hovers away.

Alyssa silently removes a small shiny orb-like object from a pocket in her robes. She puts it on the table and asks "What would you be willing to trade for this?"


The object I put up for trade is the cypher that is a fleshwarping grenade of level 9.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:14, Mon 02 Aug 2021.

Artor studied the pile of discards and junk before them, recalling the saying concerning one man's treasure. He spoke softly, though perhaps not soft enough to not be heard by the time-weavers, "Dare we know the purpose of such need?"

Derrick eyes to pile of rubbish with obvious confusion, but decides not to say anything. He has known certain people who might, with lots of work, extract usable material from the pieces of discarded cyphers, but no one would have ever paid so much to get what was essentially trash. He is unsure what to make of the comment that the pile of shins is not indicative of the profit for all trades. Is that meant to say that these strange blue men won't pay exorbitant rates every time, or is it meant to imply that they will pay even more for more valuable goods? He considers rummaging around in his pockets for some of the oddities that he keeps on himself to see what they might be worth, but decides to wait to see the reaction to Alyssa's offered cypher.

The blue humanoids lean over Alyssa's proffered item.  They confer.  The one on the left pulls a strange device from a pocket and points it at the cypher.  He examines some sort of readout, stows the device, and again confers with their fellows.

Eventually, the center one states, "Mechanism configuration and energy potentialities unsuitable for desired purposes.  Perhaps deconstructed, more value retain."

Turning to Artor, the one on the right says, "Components, we seek.  Assemblages for our needs, only."

"What a curious group," pipes up the voice atop the rocks.  It sounds like it's just out of view (if it is indeed visible), perched on the worn surfaces above.  "And a full purse might be had, it seems.  The Canthans have an opportunity to become quite wealthy, it seems.  What say you, negotiators?"

The one on the left says, directing their head upward and in a voice beginning to show irritation, "Non-interference was assured.  Silence be respect assurance."

Derrick whispers to Alyssa. "I think they actually want the junk. The leftovers after the cypher has been used up."

In a louder voice he asks the strange humanoids. "Are there any other conditions to the trade? Or would the people of Canthus simply need to bring you things like this and in exchange they get shins?"

"There is some question as to the value of shins inside the Veil," Hoa Sen interjects. "As much as they might buy you in Qi, they won't bribe a predatory animal nor calm an automaton running amok." It's hardly the secret science of the Order, but "if it sounds too good to be true..." has served her well over the years.

"Components", echoed Artor, as if tasting the word, "But what flavours and configurations might suit you best?"

He inclined his head politely, though his shoulders flared with void and blacklight, a sickly green fighting with an actintic blue, "And what is it you fear from Edgewood Dirk?"