Turn 144
    Wildspace: Griffin
    Stepping forward to congratulate Emmett Lynden inadvertently proceeds Inez who scowls at him pointedly. Hastily giving way he waits until she leaves before shaking the half-man's hand smiling warmly. "It's a good name you've chosen. A strong one. I hope you do each other proud."
    "I have faith. Oh, could you do me a favor? Go kick the wedge out of the door keeping our drunken sot of a 'prisoner' locked in his room. I didn't want him stumbling into the ceremony."
    Moving away as the half-man gives his attention once more to the griffin Lynden is stuck by feelings of loneliness that even his god cannot dispel. It's been a long time since he had anyone care enough about him to take such pains on his behalf and a single tear escapes to trickle down his cheek before he hastily wipes it away.
    Valarin waits his turn to congratulate Emmett, offering his hand and a warm smile.
    "A fine show, my friend," he compliments. His spirits are indeed lifted by seeing how happy Emmett is right now.
    * * *
    Abbarille: Three Trees addendum
    During the meeting with Otto, Val must explain about the prisoner they brought back from Rigol, explaining as best he can why it seemed like a good idea at the time. Otto is perplexed, but unwilling to allow his generally good mood about the venture to be spoiled, and he promises to smooth things over with V&S.
    * * *
    Abbarille: Val and Lynden
    "I hope this isn't out of place Captain, " Lynden begins seriously, "but if the Hextorians are involved here I feel I should take a look at what they're up to." His eyes flick upwards and Val realizes that the young priest is gazing directly at him, something he generally avoids doing. "I gave my word that I'd hunt them out and it pains me to admit it but if I don't take this chance I might be too scared to do it in the future." A deep sigh escapes him before he continues, "But I'm under your command now, and I'd rather not go against your wishes..."
    Val is momentarily caught off guard by the young priest's gaze before he replies.
    "I'm not saying no, but I'd rather it wait until we can get some more information," he says. "I don't want you chasing off after them alone not knowing what we're getting into." There is a slight emphasis on the word "we're," and he watches to see if Lynden picks up on it.
    Val's emphasis is not lost on Lynden and he nods, shrugging his shoulders as he does so. "I understand but I can't help feeling anxious about leaving them unchecked. Especially as they may have been warned about our actions back home." To Val's experienced eyes Lynden looks more relieved than disappointed by his instruction to wait.
    * * * Abbarille: Emmett and Barrend
    Whatever a being seeks, if it is available for cash, it can probably be had here....
    Emmett spends some time fingering a lighter weave chain vest that the proprietor swears is of elven make, and locates a small, slightly disreputable looking tent promising "Magik Enchantments and Permanent Wonders." He steps in swearing to Inez that he's sure it's a fake, and walks out with the look of a man who would have just bought a new, high quality rack and pinion carriage that has had only a few dozen miles on it via its past owner, a dowager who nearly never left her house. It's obvious that the only thing that saved the Half Man his money on enchantments for his already broken in cutlass and armor was the fact that he had no money to spend.
    He also joins Inez in shopping for better clothes, looking for things to replace his well worn outfits that would have the same strength and durability. Here he does make some promises to return to a halfling who promises silks that would wear as leathers. "Actually, I'd prefer leathers that look like Silk, but it's a fair trade," he tells the proprietor, who has promised to pull out some shirts that would fit Emmett's height and shoulders.
    As Inez continues her window shopping, Emmett engages Barrend in some casual chatter, relating in slightly more detail the adventure with the Dwarfish forgeship - always a crowd-pleaser. "And your previous voyages? Where have those been? For all of your wish for new routes, I see that your boots have a lot of wear?"
    "If you ever have any trouble sleeping, I'll regale you with my voyages. I can almost guarantee that you'll be asleep in five minutes." Barrend chuckles. "But about my boots", he looks down at them. "Yes, they have seen more than the ports." answers Barrend. "Being on the same routes most of the time makes it that I don't have much work to do updating our maps and travel logs and just as little preparation for our next voyage. So I have much free time and I like to know everything of where I am. I'm not content in just knowing the city and the best watering hole. I need to know on what it's built, what feeds it, nourishes it, what gave birth to it. So I often travel outside the borders of town and into the countryside, the woods or the hills. You can find interesting things if you're willing to travel far enough. For example, less than a league from here, going uphill, I managed to find a small creek that has the freshest water in the area and not far below it a small cascade who's mist is keeping a small wild orchard's apples cool and crisp in the afternoon breeze. Though that was on my last trip, so their are probably no apples in this part of the season. I haven't really went back this time. I walked a little around in the woods this time, but they just don't feel right for some reason. But it's probably just me."
     "Also, you say you're a navigator? Dwarfish magi are a rare breed, or is there a god you follow?"
    "Dwarfish magi?!" replies Barrend, almost shocked at the assumption. "They're a rare breed because they aren't productive. All that time they spend in their own books could be spent helping they're clan. Even though as a navigator I spend also spend time in books, travel logs and maps, it is all for the need of my crew and not just for personal knowledge."
    Barrend pauses a moment, thinking of why he asked such a question, then realizes the reason behind it.
    "Aah, I think I understand what you're getting at. Well I've never manned a spelljammer myself if that's what you mean, you're thinking of the pilot. We already have an experienced pilot for that job, and yes he's a mage. Piloting seems to be the only thing he's good for when we're not landed. The pilot may move the ship, but I'm the one who tell him where to move it. I've been a navigator since well before I joined the Black Raven. I started on my clan's forgeship. It may seem simple to an outsider considering that they're slower that a stubborn legless mule and that you'll have all the time in the world to plan to make a maneuver, but because of they're immense size, they are not the kind that can go into any flow of the phlogiston. You get to close to a crossflow and BAM!" he stomps his cane on the ground at the same time, "you can permanently stall yourself in a whirlpool. And let me tell you, having seen it happen to another forgeship, it can be the death of it. So I learn to watch the flow, know it, see how it changes and make note of it. The pilot lives through the flow and has his own perspective of it, but with his mind keeping to the path he still needs the navigator to tell him what that path will be. Especially inside the spheres where only the stars guide you."
    "By the way", he whispers, discretely pointing towards an obnoxiously loud man inside a stand that seems to have been there for as long as the city, "I'd be careful about that merchant over there. His 'one of a kind artifacts from far away spheres' have a knack of coming by the dozen. A small advantage about being someone who has travelled here often enough"
    "You also asked what god I follow?", Barrend nods in confirmation. "I don't know that I follow anybody in particular. I am respectful to our gods: Moradin; Berronar; Clanggedin Silverbeard; Vergadain; Dumathoin; Hanseath;* *Tharmekhûl and so many other. And I am grateful to them for the bountiful asteroid and true home they gave us and everywhere she has taken us. Yet for all of them, not even the Soulforger, have been able to completely fill my need to understand everything there is about the true nature of dwarvenkind and the world at large. So my prayers go elsewhere, to the spheres and the flow themselves so that they may help me. In a way, you might even say that I'm still searching for the True One and only It's servants deign listen to me."
    Barrend stops and shakes his head. "Listen to me, I'm rambling again. I don't think I have anything really worth mentioning at this time that might interest you." He looks up at the position of the sun. "I do believe I've help my part of the bargain as well as can be expected. Now before it gets dark, I'd like to go to the port and see what kind of vessel the Distraction is. To see it in all it's beauty in the light of the setting sun. On the way, you can tell me about it, it's class, size, speed, it's captain and it's crew. Like I said before, I like to know where I'm going. Start with yourself and our lady here if you want to."
    "I wonder if they're more like him or like her?" Barrend tells himself.
    "Fair enough - we should be on our way regardless, and you seem a likable enough sort. Let me fill you in..."
    * * *
    Abbarille: Olnfar
    "Turned up at last, eh?" With an air of impatience he provides his own equally lengthy sobriquet -- they are very distant cousins, as it happens, the link now three generations back. But still a link. Ibn Hatim seems little interested in pleasantries, and occasionally glances at the door. The music is still distantly audible.
    "I don't intend to keep you long," ibn Hassan says with a trace of humor. Producing the documents he'd prepared, he says, "I have a report to be forwarded, and a short version for your review. If you could look it over when you have a chance, I'd like your thoughts on the matter discussed. Perhaps tomorrow? I'd also like to sift through the reports you have on hand for any traces of related information. My ship will probably leave in a couple of days, I think." He is still perfectly polite, but it is just as clear that he expects ibn Hakim to make a little more time for him, soon.
    "Tomorrow, yes. That would be convenient." He nods and accepts the material. "Thank you. Perhaps in the morning."
    "Morning would be best, I think." He takes his leave courteously and returns to the sun-warmed streets. Twenty years ago, he reflects, he would have had little sympathy for the man's distraction. Even five years ago. But now he knows better.
    He wanders casually back toward the docks and whatever lodgings Nyala has picked out for them, whistling a popular spelljammers' tune.
    His note to ibn Hatim outlines the bare bones of the Hextorians' efforts to destabilize and perhaps control Rigol, the obvious connection to Victor & Sons, the suspected connection to Seven Suns via Bral, and his interest in pursuing the matter.
    And indeed, when the two next meet ibn Hatim is alone, and hence both in a better mood and willing to cautiously agree that it does look like a serious issue, although he points out that the link to V&S is only circumstantial; they could have been unwitting participants in the business.
    Ibn Hassan allows that it's mainly a gut instinct on his part. He hopes to turn up real proof but isn't going to count on it; and he might be wrong.
    Over a leisurely noon meal the half-elf asks about, and also looks for in the records, traces of commerce involving either V&S or SS and going to obscure or unknown destinations. It's hard to tell for certain, the problem of course being that if they are obscure or unknown, no one knows they're going there, but it is possible to conclude cautiously from the records that V&S has gotten quite a bit more adventurous than it used to be, perhaps hoping to happen across another Rigol-type windfall, and that Seven Suns is doing *very* well these days, to the point that the Navy has begun keeping an eye on them, but the ships they've checked have carried only innocuous cargo... as far as anyone was able to find, at least.
    "Unfortunately, it's been so long since we had any news at all from Bral. It would be nice to have something more solid on these fellows."
    Over a glass of wine as they discuss the matter of Hextorian involvement, ibn Hatim nods thoughtfully. "Hextorians are a slippery bunch. They toe the line quite carefully here -- the family that runs this place worships one of their own ancestors and doesn't like to get involved in religious squabbles, but they come down like a landslide on anything that might cost them money by keeping ships away. But it's funny you ask about them, because I wouldn't have thought anything about it otherwise, but I did notice a while back that there are fewer of them around than there used to be. They've a temple in the Slump" a low-lying part of the city where many religions have a presence "but I think there's only a couple of junior priests there any more. In fact...." He stands up abruptly. "Bide a moment."
    He returns a few minutes later with a thick sheaf of reports and a disturbed expression. "I thought as much. It's not just here. Routine reports, all of these," he brandishes the papers, "but you know how we like to keep track of the littlest thing, so there are a fair number of mentions as people see priests moving. More than usual. And they've been buying ships here and there; they're traveling, it seems, and wherever they're going they're not coming back.
    "If this is part and parcel of all the other odd movements in the past couple of years -- the Arcane disappearing, the animal migrations -- then it is likely to be momentous indeed."
    On that ominous note, a silence descends over the room for a few moments.
    "The Hextorians on Rigol," ibn Hassan says thoughtfully, "were building magical machines. I saw one large device that was composed of many moving parts, and overheard a hint of another such, I think. I don't know what they were for; I suspect they were for raising power of some kind, perhaps for other things." He wonders for a moment whether it has turned out to be true that no one could stand against Durrell once that device was completed; perhaps his reporting of that claim has helped, perhaps not. "Then there were the mechanical crows that flew, and whose vision was sent to a magic mirror, and the mechanical wolves and mechanical spiders, and experimenting with fire-weapons. Very alarming. Inspired by the god himself, it is claimed. If they were to succeed in building an army of such mechanisms, and if they work outside of Rigol, that would be a serious problem all by itself.
    "It does not appear that the missing Hextorians have been going to Rigol," he adds. "I should like to know where they *are* going, and what they think they're doing. Other than causing trouble, that is."
    Ibn Hatim sighs. "If you want to know about Hextorians... well, there's a couple of possibilities I suppose, none of them very appealing to a sedentary sort such as myself. There is the temple here, of course, where one might make cautious inquiries. Here in the Loop" as this region of the Flow is known, where its eddies form a figure eight "there are rumors of an apostate. A man -- though stories differ as to his species -- who reached the highest rank in Hextor's service and then turned his back on the god, retreated from the world and became a hermit, meditating and doing penance. I believe it to be more than a legend," he explained, "because occasionally his erstwhile brothers and sisters go after him with mayhem in mind, once during my tenure here, when word got out that they were looking for help in the endeavor. Others have gone as well, more benignly; the story goes that his wisdom is unparalleled and his sight penetrates a thousand spheres. Whatever secrets the order has, it's likely he knows them."
    Wondering if it's even possible that ibn Hatim means the same thing *he* would mean by 'cautious inquiries,' ibn Hassan asks, "Does rumor say where this apostate dwells?"
    "Kahraman sphere, farther down the Loop." He cocks a significant eyebrow; ibn Hassan has heard of the place, though previously only as a hideout for pirates. It's a messy sphere, containing any number of asteroids and larger bodies. A good place to live if one doesn't wish to be stumbled over. "Tales differ as to the precise nature of his dwelling place; it may be that he sits in ascetic stillness on an otherwise bare rock, or resides in a palace of unimaginable delights."
    "Hmm." Ibn Hassan takes a moment to think of all he's been told. "I suppose no one actually knows this apostate's name."
    "None that I have heard; there is little enough chance of there being two such men, or whatever he may be."
    "Now, one more thing, I believe - may I see the last two or three reports you've received from Bral?"
    "Of course." He disappears again for a little bit and returns. The reports are brief. Ships came and went, their cargoes and destinations were noted, rumors of distant conflict and opportunity were passed on -- all very far away from the _Distraction's_ current locale. McFadden's rise is noted, suspicion that he may be involved in smuggling, but what is yet uncertain. The disappearances ibn Hassan had heard about on their last visit were also noted, but they appear to have stopped by the time the final report was filed; it's many months old now. There is a great deal of Flow between here and there.
    That having been dispensed with, a bit of clothes shopping and a decent dinner with Nyala follows; she is quietly interested in what he may have learned, blue eyes brimming with intrigue.
    * * *
     Abbarille: Payment
    "This represents the standard ten percent of the value of the cargo itself, plus a bonus for bringing such a doubtless-valuable sphere to the company's attention; you'll see to the distribution? Mr. Ferndale suggests that you and your crew enjoy some shore leave for a few days. We may try to set up a meeting with you, your navigator, and some of our other captains who are in port, in case they want to head out that way. Let us know when you plan to depart and we'll discuss resupplying your ship. "
    "Of course," Val assures the company representative. He hides his surprise at the amount they've received, putting up a professional front. "There are things that should be discussed with any crew heading that way."
    Val calls the crew together to meet over their pay, and to discuss their future plans...
    Emmett and Inez locate Val before the nightly gathering can start, with a bespectacled Dwarf in tow. "Captain, before we get into the main business tonight, there's someone I want you to meet." he indicates the dwarf "This is Barrend. He's a navigator, late of Havath & Sons, looking for a more exciting route. I thought he might suit the _Distraction_ to fill Alais' place, if not his odd, incomprehensible shoes."
    <>
    As usual Lynden stays near the edge of the gathering but listens attentively to the discussion. He's conscious that he is still a newcomer and doesn't want to speak out of turn.
    Emmett leans back a little at the amount, then does some quick figuring with his hook and fingers. "Captain, that's 20 shares of 1500 each. How are we gonna divide that among nine old crew and one new?"
    

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