Faqu's celebration had begun.  There was the sound of chatter, the smell of food, the shine of candles and lamps illuminating the park square.

Rosa was not there - she kept her time with the crucible, preparing a gift of dragonpowder... she can hear the distant sounds of the town.  The wind was whistling, but she can still pick up the occasional hammering.  Even now, villagers are getting ready for trouble.

-

Tylluan finds himself at an impasse.  He has a book to memorize... but he's prepared a dance!  A dance to show off to the festival goers, who surely must be expecting their hero to arrive.  He can only surmise what food might be there, waiting for him.

...Obviously, he must partake.

-

Light found the people there talking and and socializing, but there was a strained air... and none of the 'heroes'!  Not Rosa, Tylluan, or Murleena.  But Moft was visible, scurrying about.  He talked to people, briefly, then would scurry off for a bit.  Returning a few minutes later, only to depart again.

Light was a big person, and he is noticed quickly enough indeed.  A weather-beaten man approaches with an offered mug of a local alcohol and a wooden plate - fish and fruit were the offering, it seems.  "You're from the Red ship, aren'tchyou?"

-

Murleena was in the woods.  It was already dark, the red sky peeking through leaves as she moves in the forest.  Her eyes are used to it, though, and she traverses swiftly.  She can't see the smoke anymore, and she finds herself coming up to the treetops more than once just to get a sense of direction.

She's making it there faster on foot than about anyone else could - her powers and agility is a big help!

She just can't fly, heh.

As the sky goes deeper red, she knows she's getting closer.  Her ears perk up, hearing distant noises... she's getting close?
This message was last updated by the GM at 03:32, Fri 03 Feb 2023.

Rosa takes her time as she mixes up batches of dragon powder; it's not something you want to rush. She mixes up her usual recipes and makes a few fireworks too for some added fun, but she's going to have to think a bit more about how to booby trap the book. Once she's finished she cleans down her workbench and puts everything away in its proper place. Her stomach starts to rumble and she wants to get to the party.

She was going to wear a dress but she decides to be more cautious and wears trousers instead. She tucks her pistols into her belt, and after a moment of hesitation she takes her bandoleers of bombs too. She doesn't want to be caught off guard by the priests. Once she's dressed she closes up the ship and heads into town.

First thing she does (after snagging a tankard of ale and a bite to eat) is to find Moft and make sure that he's got at least some people on watch.

Tylluan makes himself presentable before the party, preening his feathers and making sure his talons are clean and sharp. Hard to believe I am going to a party on such an insignificant little island. What do fisherfolk know about celebration? Perhaps the food and the enthusiasm of the villagers will make up for the lack of sophistication. He twitters a little tune as he slips on his dancing bells, anticipating the opportunity to show off in front of an appreciative crowd. Once he's satisfied with his appearance, Tylluan leaves the ship and rises into the air.

When he reaches the party, Tylluan glides silently out of the darkness. He soars in with such skill that the wind provides enough of a push to land with nary a flap of wing, to stand proudly, feathers gleaming in the firelight. Best not to raise a cloud of dust to spoil the food and drink, yes? He raises his wings and calls out a greeting. "Hello, hello, good people! I have arrived."

Murleena would Shadowstep up into the trees, then climb up to the top to get a sense of where she needed to go. Then go down a bit before Shadowstep back to the ground! Then she'd run, shadowstep, run, shadowstep, run towards where she needed to go! She was hard to track, and hard to keep track of! Agility and speed were her thing, and she used them to great extent.

In reply to Atlas Blue GM (msg # 1):

Light tried to smile as he saw the mug offered before him. The weight of a potential attack seemed to weigh on his shoulders. He was homesick for Hammerhead Isle before events had conspired to turn him into an Eye-Borg. FAQU seemed a lot colder and maybe more grounded, but it had the same thing that Light liked about most places he visited, and that was people.

'I'm Light. Not often that I'm the one served food and drink and not the reverse.'

'It's... nice.' he says as he looks for somewhere to sit and watch the festivities.

He remembers himself and waits to see if the weather-beaten man will introduce himself in return.

Rosa wraps up her preparations for the batch.  From there on out, she'd be able to leave it... and begin to eat!  Adorning herself appropriately, she verifies the state of her ship one last time and heads on towards the park...

---

Well before anyone else, Light was already there.  The local drinks aren't bad, they've obviously broken out their finer stock for tonight.  Especially for anything given to him!  "Yeh?  Light?  You guys, you did good stuff for us.  We'll never forget."

There was a motley set of cheers, and Light can smell the first wafts of sizzling meat and fish and cut fruits being carried his way... a few berries, sliced red-and-green skinned somethings with a tart smell.  The meat, the nonfishmeat, may be some kind of land animal of the area... he can't place the smell, but it's definitely not a fowl.

--

Meanwhile, Tylluan's preening paid off, surely!  Taking to the skies, he's a blot of darkness in the night... invisible in the air, even if the light from below could illuminate his dark-colored feathers.

Below, the village was clad in darkness - the array of dark mounds resembling a squat fortress all the more.  Or a cluster of giant graves...

The villagers and fisherfolk were beginning to start their night.  Rushlights were burning, illuminating the square and putting off a surprising amount of light.  Townsfolk were talking, some seated on old stones left in that place for who-knows how long.

As he lands, eyes look up to catch the sight of him!

There was a moment of silence, then nearby villagers let out a cheer!  "Arrived!  Our hero!"  "Look at those wings!  He's a sight!"  Someone had the presence of mind to approach with a vessel of drink...

--

And as Tylluan presents himself, he is an easy figure to see.  It's really the first thing of note Rosa spots as she finally enters the gathering square.

[With Murleena to continue in another thread!]

Rosa settles down at the head table and tucks into her food. As she sips her beer she looks out at the people and wonders just how well they will cope if things get serious. She dismisses most of them and hopes they are good at running and hiding, but she also picks out a few people who look like they can handle themselves in a difficult situation.

When she sees Moft she asks to him, "How are things going? Have you set guards for tonight and raised a militia for tomorrow? Hopefully we can resolve things without violence, but I really don't trust these priests. That boiler of theirs is a real menace. Do you know of any spots where we could ambush or trap it?"

Tylluan stretches to his full height and lets out a happy screech. "Let the festivities commence!" he calls out, completely ignoring the fact people were already celebrating. After all, it can't be a party without the guest of honor, can it?

He finds a prominent place to settle, where he can be seen, and in turn be able to see as much as he can. When food is brought, Tylluan uses his beak to tear into it. He was also considerate enough to bring his drinking bowl, since regular containers don't work very well with the shape of his beak. "Ah, wonderful. Such interesting and tasty food," he compliments his hosts. And indeed the food does taste good, even to his rudimentary palate.

The people were talking... it was mostly the elderly, Rosa sees.  The younger people might be sleeping in shifts... or readying themselves.

At least, Rosa hopes.  They were helping harden the defenses, too.  For this town, which was larger than the people in it... how much could they handle?

Moft looks up at Rosa when she approaches him.  "Yes... a number are out on volunteer.  Like I said, we see bandits every once and a while.  But... most of it is the hardness of the walls.  The land here makes a tough barrier."

---

Tylluan gets a ragged cheer as he screeches, all eyes on him.  The people were quite willing to have that!  Someone dressed with layered fabrics and with ribbons in their hair is offering up a platter of fish and fruits.  Someone is holding up a tankard, apparently willing to keep it in his own hand for Tylluan to drink.

If nothing else, the locals wanted to pamper him!  People were chattering more, and the mood shifted to interest.  Eyes were on him.

Moft, meanwhile, leans in to whisper to Rosa.  "He... likes to make an entrance, doesn't he.  Yes... I'm planning on watching the wall in a moment, myself.  Welk... a friend of mine, is there now."

"You are right, though.  That boiler.. . maybe that cat-man... those are the ones that worry me.  Hopefully they have no more surprises than that."  He lets out a little dog-snort.  "For now, get some food.  Rest is part of fighting."

Tylluan sits proudly, chatting with those around him. "My heart is warmed by your generosity, good people. Though adversity may have brought us into common cause, you have borne it with courage and determination. I do not begrudge the aid I have given to such stalwart people." He pauses to partake of the food on offer, using his beak to pluck it up then swallow it in what, for his people, is a fastidious manner. Since they are so eager to please me, I see no reason why I can't offer a few compliments. After all, kind words work better than insults when you wish to impress people.

Once the edge is off his hunger, Tylluan hops up and into a cleared space in front of him. "And now, for your entertainment, I will grace you with a performance from my homeland! Far away, where the great forests lie, cold and vast. Within these forests is the home of my people. Scholars of vast knowledge and philosophers of great wisdom. Yet it is I who shine brightest, for I use my gifts of song and music to lift hearts, and bring wonder!" He begins a simple dance, jingling the bells around his ankles in a bright rythym, while spreading his wings halfway and slowly flapping them in time.
"Far away in the forest vast,
Stands a tree as old as time,
Where the knowledge of the world,
Is locked away behind ice and rime.
And shadowed guardians stand,
Cursed to watch and wait,
Through the weighted centuries until
The fated hand knocks at the gate.
When mortal eyes will pierce the gloom,
And footsteps ring in the frozen silence,
And the shuttle traverses fate's loom."

Tylluan ends his song with a low bow that sweeps the ground with his wingtips, before rising again and closing his wings with a satisfied snap.

Rosa chuckles at Moft. "There's nothing wrong with a spectacular entrance, though sometimes a subtle entrance is more effective."

"I'd like to take a look at the walls too, especially the wall in the direction we think the Boiler will come from. Is it tall enough to slow the Boiler down? It could be a good place to drop nets on it."

She's impressed by Tylluan's performance. She raises her tankard to him and gives him a cheer.

There was shocked silence as he began his dance and song.  Whatever people expected... wasn't this.  As people gaze on his musical number, the sound of the fire crackled.  Soon, he finished in his bow... and people began to applaud!  And whistle, a few sharp sounds made in appreciation.

Renewed attention washes up to him.  A young girl is raising a hand up, bright eyed and curious as she tries to poke him lightly.  A wrinkled man raises a finger up at him, speaking gruffly.  "That song, can I ask about it?"  A couple further back giggle and look at the ornaments and bells he was wearing.  As the crowd regathers around him, the babble is even more excited than before.

All that attention had to be good for him.  Otherwise why would he want it so much?

Meanwhile, Tylluan has plenty of drink and food on hand, that was for certain!  It didn't have the best variety... but the flavor was fresh!  And the people quite eager to cheer him on.

--

Rosa, meanwhile, hears a rough growl out of Moft.  "Yes - we expected trouble by the water, or them sending people by rowboat and coming across the beaches.  I had to move a bunch of people to the back of the village - they've been working on things there."  He nods his head towards the present crowd.  There were a number there, maybe a hundred... but Faqu could probably fit thousands, and there were probably a hundred more at work.  More, unable to work, or in bed.

"This old town won't bend easy.  But you never know..."  He reaches up to rub a furry paw at his cheek.  "By tomorrow, we'll know more.  If you are planning to leave... likely the day after tomorrow we'll have met them again for sure.  By then... we'll all know, one way or another."

His stubby legs take him over towards a table of foods.  "If you want to walk, I can take you to the walls.  I recommend the fruit, though!"

Rosa nods at what Moft says. She's glad that he seems to have things under control. "No, we're not planning on leaving. We're here to help however we can." She almost says that they're partially to blame for the priests being here, but it's best not to admit to being guilty.

"I'd like to see the walls," she says as she grabs an apple. As they're walking she asks, <Red>"What's the history of this place? It looks like there used to be a lot of people living here a long time ago. What happened?"</Red>

Tylluan's golden eyes glow with pleasure at the crowd's reaction to his song and dance. These may be simple folk, but they at least know a good performance. Perhaps they are not so jaded as those from more refined locales. Does that mean their praise has less worth than those who know what true art is? He ponders this thought for only the briefest of moments as he's offered more food and drink. No. It matters not. A superior performance will be lauded by ANY who witness it, be they lowly fishermen or anointed lords. What matters is whether the praise is honest, and I believe this is.

After allowing someone to offer him a drink of the local wine, to wet his throat, he looks at the man who asks about his song. "Yes? What would you like to know about it?" He bobs his head toward where he was previously seated. "Perhaps we can speak there, so the party can continue."

Moft looks up at Rosa with some surprise at her words, walking along with her as she takes an apple.  Her question was obviously a big one.  "Well.  Faqu's been around since Tronsket pushed towards Piquo."  Almost a good couple of centuries, there.  "But back then, this area was very different.  Town was rebuilt, really, after the fighting was done.  The northern outpost, out where those priests were was no more than a lighthouse then.  But decades ago?"

He squints up at her as he scurries along beside her.  "It grew up to be a small little place of its own.  Then, during a storm one night.  Something came out of the water.  That's what people say."

He looks up at Rosa, then looks to the wall.  "That storm was bad enough.  Docks were wrecked, our farms were too.  Lost a number of fishing boats.  But the real thing, the whole lighthouse just disappeared.  But it's not the only story like that in Aifla, heh.  You get old tales like that all up and down the Twin Lines."  He said, speaking of the Aifla and Belka Archipelago.

"There are nights where we still see some scary storms like that.  Bad nights.  But the real something, people say that's why the town actually had to be rebuilt, way back then."

Then he chuffed, a low chuckling sound like a light 'gr'.  "None of that has to do with this though.  Real reason the town's smaller's 'cause of changes in trading routes, good ten years back.  Faqu more often gets ships that blow off-route cause of a storm.  Lot of ships heading from Strilhome and Doghelm head for Stepper's Toe.  And we're too far east for anyone heading up towards Tronsket... too far south for anyone going from Tronsket."

----

The wrinkled man nods, a finger rubbing his jowls.  "It's a nice song, reminds me of some of the old travel songs.  We have other ones, our own fisher songs, but knew a guy out of Horne who liked to tell tales like that."  He seemed amiable to moving, shuffling along to where Tylluan indicated.  The crowd did relent, though someone kept by him with the pitcher of drink... wisely playing attendant to his needs.

Of course, whether Tylluan had make up that song on his own or knew it from before... well, neither of which the old man knew.  He was wrinkled to the point his eyes were half-closed, but didn't seem to be a fur-foot of any sort.  His nose was a little pointy, his eyes angular.

Someone else that Tylluan noticed - while he hadn't seen any of his feathered folk here, he did notice the occasional furfoot.  One of them, a little taller than Moft, was waddling up slowly towards Tylluan and the old man.  He raises a hand-like paw in greeting, but offers no words.

"Something came out of the sea?" Rosa says. Like all sailors she is interested in stories of sea monsters. "Was it a serpent or squid? They seem to be the most common, though I've heard of others, or was it something else?"

The talk of the lighthouse gets her attention. "Wait, the priests are camped out at the  old lighthouse that disappeared? Maybe they're searching for things there too?"

As they get to the walls, Rosa asks, "So who were the original inhabitants here? Are any of their descendants still living here?"

Once Tylluan is settled again, he continues his conversation with the old man. "The song is one of my own making, though the tale is one that is ancient. My people are great historians and philosophers." He raises one of his talons and flexes it. "Since we lack more dexterous appendages, thinking and remembering became our stock in trade." He trills a short laugh.

As the furfoot approaches Tylluan bobs his head in acknowledgement, before allowing an attendant to ply him with another drink. "I decided I was destined for more than a sedentary life. I am on a journey of discovery, to see other lands. Learn of other people, not through inanimate books and scrolls, but SEEING them where they LIVE." His eyes gleam in the firelight, shimmering gold and jet. "There is so much more to see and do. Songs to sing. Food and drink to taste. Life... to experience."

Moft laughs.  "Serpent, squid, or some other thing of the deep.  But yes, that old lighthouse, the one where the earliest colony was, is out where the priests are.  Wouldn't be the first time a diver... heck, or a trader..."  A busy brow raised up at Rosa.  "...Or anyone wanted to look for something of value under the water.  Weird magic, relics of the past.  But... this?"  He growls low.

"Such cowardice.  And... I'm not sure.  Excitement?  They seem to be obsessed with this... project of theirs.  Nothing compared to someone just wanting to find valuables.  Or... what do you see?  I don't deal with goods... or priests."

The walls in the back did, at least, use the build of those mounds.  It does look protected, the kind you'd need to keep out raiders or pirates that landed nearby.

But against the boiler?

Moft's expression turns to worry, and a paw touches the logs. "We sell our better wood off the trees here.  These are good.  But not against that big metal thing.  What sort of trap would you lay?"

-------------

The old man grins slowly, his face wrinkling.  "Aren't the best songs, though!"  Tylluan saw him nodding in earnest, grinning at Tylluan's trill.  "I've known a few of yours that came by... but none so brilliant-looking!  Or so fun."  He raises his own little cup, taking a drink.

The other fellow, an older-looking badger, moves up next to Tylluan.  They bob their head slowly, eyes on Tylluan.  The old man chuckles and gestures.  "This quiet one is Welk.  They're responsible for the better taste of the drink you have... and none of the bad!"

"Good to see your sorts here.  Thanks for last night.  It means a lot."  The short badger's eyes gleam as he paws his cheeks a little.

Tylluan preens a few feathers and puffs himself up a bit at the compliment to his plummage. "Yes, most of my people have plummage better-suited to blending into the forests and mountains of our lands. I however, am more distictive and resplendent. It suits me well as a performer. It means I will never be mistaken for anyone other than myself."

When the other badger is introduced, Tylluan stares at him directly with his golden eyes. "I see. Well Welk, I must compliment you on creating such a fine beverage. I will make note of this night in my journals, which I am writing to document my travels and experiences."

In reply to Atlas Blue GM (msg # 1):

Light tried to smile as he saw the mug offered before him. The weight of a potential attack seemed to weigh on his shoulders. He was homesick for Hammerhead Isle before events had conspired to turn him into an Eye-Borg. FAQU seemed a lot colder and maybe more grounded, but it had the same thing that Light liked about most places he visited, and that was people.

'I'm Light. Not often that I'm the one served food and drink and not the reverse.'

'It's... nice.' he says as he looks for somewhere to sit and watch the festivities.

He remembers himself and waits to see if the weather-beaten man will introduce himself in return.
////////////
---

Well before anyone else, Light was already there.  The local drinks aren't bad, they've obviously broken out their finer stock for tonight.  Especially for anything given to him!  "Yeh?  Light?  You guys, you did good stuff for us.  We'll never forget."

There was a motley set of cheers, and Light can smell the first wafts of sizzling meat and fish and cut fruits being carried his way... a few berries, sliced red-and-green skinned somethings with a tart smell.  The meat, the nonfishmeat, may be some kind of land animal of the area... he can't place the smell, but it's definitely not a fowl.

--
////////////
[I'm so sorry!  I should have developed this response more]

The old man grunts, looking to Light.  "Sorry.  I'm Gen... one of the two your crewmates rescued off the beach."  He takes a drink again, looking back out over the town.  "I love the view... I heard from Farisha you came from near here... want to talk about it?"  He crooks a brow, looking at him frankly.  Surprisingly direct in the offer.

--

Welk raises his eyebrows up at Tylluan, a smile forming beneath his snout.  "Good to have you.  I keep up the drink, others keep up the help."  He has a rough accent, one unfamiliar to Tylluan... not that this was a big surprise!  One of the parts of journeys, one could expect.

"Well, it'll be good to read about us, then.  I'd better make sure things are good with our chief of combat.  Have a fair night."  He bobs his gray hair over towards where Moft and Rosa had headed, leaving Tylluan to the rest of them...

Welk, at least, was more conversational than some of the other elderly... even if they were living it up.  "It's a small people now, but you'll always be welcome here.  For my drinks, if nothing else.  From what Moft said, you and the firebrand were a big reason why anyone made it back at all..."

In reply to Atlas Blue GM (msg # 18):

The idea of diving for weird magic and relics of the past excites Rosa, but that will have to wait for later. For now there are more important things to do. Still, the sense of history and the passing of the aeons nags at her. She looks around at the mounds. They have puzzled her since they first arrived here. "What are these mounds, Moft? Or what were they? They don't really look like they were buildings."

Rosa chuckles. "Yes, the priests do seem rather obsessed with what they are doing, and that makes me a little obsessed by what they are doing. I've been reading that journal of theirs but I still haven't got a good idea of what they are actually up to."

A plan is forming in her mind. She says, "Tomorrow I plan to send Tylluan to negotiate a flag of truce, then I .. we can go talk to them and find out what they actually want. Maybe we can sort things out just by talking things through?" She shrugs her shoulders. "At the very least it should give us another day to prepare if things go pear shape."

She looks out beyond the walls and points in the direction of the old lighthouse. "Is this the easiest way to get to the lighthouse? Is this the direction they're most likely to come from? We're going to have to take a gamble and guess which way they might come from." She eyes the terrain. What I need is something to slow down or stop the Boiler." She eyes the logs. "Perhaps we could set some of these up on the mounds and roll them onto the Boiler? Too obvious? Could we camouflage the logs? If the logs don't work we can always slow it down with nets. I just have to be able to get on top of it..." She stares off into the distance as she and gnaws at a fingernail.

In reply to Atlas Blue GM (msg # 20):

Light's nose took in the unfamiliar-right-now smell and his mind kept trying to identify it, coming up with nothing for now. He accepts whatever food offered to his awaiting plate, sure to thank those serving it.
'Thank you kindly for the meal, this looks great.' he beams

'Gen, friend of Farisha.' he says to himself as he lifts parts of the meal as if he might find an answer that way, hidden in the mix of meats and somewhat also unidentified reds and greens.

'Hammerhead was in a warmer, sunnier location that Faqu, on Sunstreaker Isle, with white sands, often gentle waves lapping the shoreline... You could just walk the beaches, collecting sea shells, maybe even do some spear fishing to pass the time.' Light says, with a smile.

'As a kid we used to pretend we were on some big adventure, gather driftwood and maybe the odd shipwreck parts and make a rough fort that morning before choosing to be different tribes play fighting one another.'

Light chews some of his food, the best way for a Chef to discover new flavors to pad out their repertoire. Each bite an adventure in itself.

'Glad we could get you away from those High Light guys.'

Tylluan has another drink before continuing to speak with Welk. "Yes, well, I may not be a warrior such as my Strigirian cousins, but my wings are a faster way of moving those boats than oars." He accepts a piece of grilled meat, sliding it off the offered skewer and swallowing it whole. "The good captain and the others were better able to board the vessel of those annoying priests to rescue your folk."

The owl bard continues to eat and drink his fill, while listening to the conversations around him and using his superior vision to take in the gathering. These seem to be fine, simple folk, but I'd rather not have any untoward surprises come up. Besides, learning more about humans and furfeet will give me an advantage when dealing with them.