The Kestrel has made several stops on its trip up the coast of the Golden Peninsula, although mainly to small villages that were little more than seasonal fishing settlements only too happy to trade for the deep-water fare on ice in the ship's hold. Galway Cove is quite a different sight: a permanent, well established community in the throws of preparation for a Candlemass festival. The first flowers of Spring are seen everywhere, decorating the buildings, wagons and people. From the docks, a group of people can be seen erected a ribbonpole on the village green, and the scents of holiday cuisine drift down with those of the flowers.

Docking duties are accomplished in record time, as the Savanite crewmen are anxious to join the celebrations ashore. Captain Ocho perches on the railing near Arkold and Tulani, and tells them, "Bort and I will handle the trading, as usual. This town has a decent healer too, named Weewei. You should visit her, Arkold. Maybe she can do something about that fever of yours, eh?"

The Jupani's odd feeling of being too warm has persisted, although sleeping near the ice in the hold lessens the effect somewhat. Nothing any of the shamans or healers from the lesser villages they've ported in have been able to diagnose or treat the ailment with any success so far.

The streamlined feline face of Raneah bobs in the water, watching the Candlemass preparations with curiosity.

The middle aged Jupani sailor leans against the railing with his head propped upon his hands. Though his mood has grown steadily more sober as his fever continues to persist, the cheery vision of the village in preparation for festivities has at least brought a tired smile to his face. "I'm thinkin' of doin' jus' that, cap'n," he replies to the Korv. "An' maybe gettin' somethin' to eat to boot."

A black and white Sphynx watches Arkold worriedly, what would have been a festive Candlemass mood is severely dimmed due to her concern over his fever. She nods quietly at the Jupani's last statement. "Yes, I think you should. You didn't eat much on board." She smiles tentatively. "Maybe you'll feel better too."

The deck lurches briefly as Raneah leaps aboard from the water. The Siren has bulked up a bit, the constant swimming and fishing agreeing with her. "Yeah, feel better, Arkold! I'm going to dry off and go to the big party too," she promises, before humping her way down into the hold like an enormous seal.

"You can't miss the healer's hut," the Korv says. "Just follow the road through town and you'll find it at the edge of the forest," he directs, then hops down and waddles off to talk to the milling, anxious Savanites.

The lupine turns after Raneah, too slow to react before she's already gone. This lethargic reaction only serves to reduce his mood further and he frowns for it. "Uh, yeah," he agrees absently with Tulani. "C'mon, let's go. I ain't goin' to get any better sittin' 'ere." He straightens and heads for shore.

Tulani calls her thanks out to the captain before following the unhappy Jupani to the shore.

A short trek across the docks leads the pair to the town's sole road, which winds around the village green and through the buildings. Along the way, they see several swarthy Jupani tending to large boars roasting in open fire pits, and a pale-white Rhian stacking up barrels of beer near one of the many picnic tables. Children run everywhere, engaged in some chaotic game (or else just running to avoid chores). One Lapi girl pauses long enough to offer Tulani a flower-garland necklace from a basketful that she's carrying.

Smiling, the Sphynx accepts the flower garland, bending down so the Lapi girl can place it over her head, then, with a fluttering hop, she stretches her wings, settling the feathers with a slight rustle.

The bunny-girl's eyes go wide at the sight of the Sphynx's wings, and she skittishly dashes away.

As he walks along, the lupine glances at various items that seem to spark his subdued interest – particularly the barrels of beer, and the Jupani tending the boars. He wanders off, not paying attention to Tulani, until he finally remembers her and turns back around. "Eh, look," he says, pointing. "Jupani. I was beginnin' to think my life was goin' to be nothin' but cats from 'ere on out."

The main street lacks anything so obvious as an inn, but there is a small tavern (easily identified by the sign over the door that reads, "Tavern"), and various crafters' shops specializing in the needs of farmers and fishermen. The forest can be seen beyond them, although nothing on the scale of a Sylvanian woodland. A thatch-roofed shack squats off the road just outside the shade of the trees.

Tulani offers Arkold a mockingly doleful look, sticking outher lower lip, then says, "But I thought you liked cats!"

"Thank you again, Granny Weewei!" comes a cheerful young voice, as a Cervani doe backs away from the door of the hut. This close, they can see an old gray Skreek in patched overalls (even from a distance, they are obviously a size too large for him) sitting in a rocker on the porch, apparently whittling. The young doe ignores him though, and begins skipping down the road clutching a wax-stoppered clay jar in her hands.

Arkold reaches back and runs his hand through his hair. "Well, uh, I mean some of 'em," he insists lamely. "Uh, the fish kind an', uh, whatever you be, an' … ah … uh, nevermind." He shakes his head a little before giving the area a good look. His gaze settles on the thatched-roofed shack, and he begins off in that direction. "Well, c'mon. I'm thinkin' this is it."

The preoccupied Cervani nearly bumps into Arkold. At an "'Ey, watch it, kid!" from Arkold, she blushes furiously and apologizes before hurrying back toward town with her precious jar.

The Skreek looks up at the approaching pair, twitches the whiskers on the left side of his muzzle, then loses interest and goes back to whittling.

Tulani turns to watch the happy doe skip down the road, then follows Arkold toward the hut. "Hello!" she calls out to the Skreek.

Once more the Skreek looks up, examining them with one eye (his right one being lazy) and grunts back, "Heya. Here t'see the old bat?"

"Iffin' she's your healer then I'm thinkin' yes," Arkold woofs in reply.

The Skreek leans back and raps his knuckles loudly against the wall of the cottage, shouting, "Granny! Comp'ny!" This is followed by a high-pitched squeak and the sound of breaking pottery from inside, before the door bursts open and a plump, older Siamese Khatta woman steps out and yells, "Boggs! Ya spooked Tweak again! Stop it or I ain't fixing it next time ya shave off one of yer fingers!"

At this exchange Arkold casts a raised-brow "maybe this wasn't a good idea" look Tulani's way.

Tulani's ears are flicked back from the Khatta's outburst, but she finally finds her voice. "Are you the healer?" she asks the Siamese.

"Oh, pardon the outburst there," Granny Weewei apologizes. She wipes her hands across her stained apron, and is otherwise dressed in a baggy housedress and a pair of large, fluffy pink slippers. "Yes, I'm the healer 'round these parts, among other things. What can I do for you fine young people?"

The black Sphynx gestures toward her Jupani companion. "My friend here has a fever, we were wondering if you could help?"

"Uh, yeah," adds the Jupani uncertainly. "See, I'm runnin' a bit 'o a fever an' I was wunnerin' if you might 'ave betterluck at it than the last bunch o' hacksaws we tried up the ol' coast."

"Oh, certainly!" the Khatta says, and leads the pair into the cottage. "Tweak!" she yells, startling a young Skeek lad who was bent over picking up bits of a broken pot, causing him to drop them all over again. "Go get me the jar of yarrow bark. Not the yellow one, but the blue one this time. You can clean that mess up later."

The main room of the cottage is large, but feels close due to the knick-knacks, baubles and assorted junk that is piled on every flat surface. The Khatta gestures for Arkold to come sit in an overstuffed chair next to the fireplace, which has a good blaze going in it already.

"Oh, uh, an' I'm wunnerin' too if you know 'bout magic-sickness too," mumbles Arkold in an almost inaudible addition as he follows the Khatta woman.

"Ah, curin' or causin' it, lad?" the old woman asks with a wink. "Someone put a hex on ya, yer thinking? Not this fine lass with you, surely?"

As directed, the wolf drops himself into the chair and leans his head back.

There is a smaller wooden chair nearby that Weewei offers to Tulani. Tweak runs up, holding a big green jar in his small hands, and says, "Here, Granny!"

Tulani takes in chaos of the junk in the small room, she plops into the offered chair before frowning at the jar in Tweak's hands, thinking, "Wasn't that supposed to be blue?"

After sitting, the Jupani gives Tulani a half-hearted suspicious glance. "She's causin' me all kinds of trouble," he answers with a hint of a laugh in his voice, "but I don' think this one is 'er doin'. As for hexin', ah, maybe tha's it. You think somethin' can eat your health up like a maw in stable, eh?"

Granny takes the jar, notices the color, then shrugs and mutters, "Close enough." As she fishes out a sliver of bark that appears to have been soaking in brine, she tells Arkold, "Oh, lots of things can do that, lad, lots of things. Now, open yer maw and stick out yer tongue for Granny."

The black Sphynx gives Arkold an "innocent" look before flicking an ear towards Weewei, and saying, "Wasn't that jar supposed to be blue?"

"Tweak's a bit colorblind," Granny whispers to Tulani out of the side of her mouth, "but 'is heart's in the right place."

The wolf grimaces as he's forced to stir from the comfortable-looking old chair. He sits up and opens his muzzle wide, sticking his tongue out, asking, "Wha'a a'out 'reen?"

The young Skeek sets out various implements on the stones in front of the hearth: a stone bowl, mortar and pestle, a chitin knife with an oddly shaped blade and several pots full of what might be dried spices.

Tulani nods and smiles to the older Khatta. "Well, it's where the heart is that really counts."

Granny lays the bit of bark on Arkold's tongue, and then clamps his jaws closed with surprising strength. And a good thing too, or the Jupani would surely spit the bit of wood out – it tastes absolutely horrible, even worse than some of the things he's eaten in the Legion. "Oh, don't you worry about the green; just means it's a bit more potent. Nothing a big strong man like yerself can't handle though," Granny says with a straight face.

The wolf's eyes first cross, then shut altogether as an expression of sheer revulsion makes his lips curl and his muzzle wrinkle. "Nnn, nnn!" he grunts.

"So, here for the festival?" the old woman asks Tulani conversationally while holding Arkold's mouth closed.

The Sylvanian Sphynx chuckles. "Not really, but if he feels better," she says, gesturing to Arkold, "maybe he'll want to stick around a little bit."

Weewei watches Arkold, and when his eyes begin to water and bug out, she releases her hold. Picking up the bowl, she instructs him, "Spit it out here now, and Tweak will fetch you some tea."

Arkold spews out the bark even as Weewei is still giving her instruction. He sits there, gagging with his tongue lolled, his eyes blinking away the water that had accumulated.

Tulani flicks an ear toward Arkold before saying, "Was it really that bad?"

"Gah!" Arkold chokes out. "'Ew wanna 'try 'ome?"

Hiding a smirk with her hand, the Sylvanian Sphynx replies, "N-no thank you, I'd rather not."

Weewei sits down by the fire and examines the bit of wood by its light, occasionally adding a pinch of powder to it from the nearby jars. Tweak returns with a surprisingly fine-looking porcelain tea service, and one can only hope nothing startles him again. "Would you like some tea too, miss?" he politely asks Tulani.

"C'wom, s'reat," mutters the Jupani who seems to have exiled his tongue from his head until it's free of its taint. He eagerly reaches for a cup.

The Skeek fills Arkold's cup with herbal tea, and adds a generous dollop of honey as well without being asked.

Smiling at Tweak's courtesy, the black Sphynx replies, "Yes, please."

"Would you like cream or honey, miss?" Tweak asks Tulani before preparing her cup.

Arkold "wolfs" the tea down once his cup is filled, and he withdraws his tongue back into his mouth … though he still has a strained look. "More," he grunts as he holds his now-empty cup out. After a moment's consideration, he adds, "Please."

The Skeek cringes momentarily from Arkold's commanding tone, but refills the cup as before after hearing the magic word.

"Cream, please," Tulani requests, thinking to herself, "How nice and polite." She grins. "My mom always said I liked a little tea in my cream."

"Granny likes it that way too," Tweak confides in Tulani, then prepares and hands her a cup with plenty of cream.

Arkold isn't quite so hasty with his second cup. He drinks about half of it before the expression of revulsion fully lifts from his countenance. Settling back into the chair he breathes a sigh of relief and says, "I haven't 'ad tea in years."

The Sphynx sips from her cup, sighing happily, before saying to Tweak, "That's the best way!"

After a bit of muttering, Weewei picks up the knife and uses it to scoop the contents of the bowl into the stone mortar. "Well, don't see no indications of disease, lad. I'll check for a hex next," she says, and starts grinding up the bark and other ingredients with the pestle. "I'll need some of yer hair too."

"You wan' my tongue too? I think ya broke it." The wolf chuckles as he reaches to his belt and draws one of his daggers. Seconds later he's holding a lock of his unruly blonde hair out to the healer. "'Ere you go."

The old woman takes the hairs and adds them to the mix she's grinding up, muttering some sort of chant and making the occasional mystic gesture over the mortar.

"Lotsa girls come by for Granny's special Candlemass perfume for their flowers," Tweak tells Tulani, rocking on his heels. "Did you want some? It works really well."

"Sure," Tulani says absently, as she watches Granny Weewei work, but then her eyes narrow slightly. "Hang on. It works really well?"

Arkold raises his brow at this suggestion. "Go on," he urges Tulani. "Been smellin' fish an' nothin' else for weeks."

"Yup!" Tweak says, nodding his head vigorously. "You puts it on yer flower, right, and whoever ya gives it to won't think of nobody else but you all night! Worked on my big brother Leaf last year. But three girls used it on him, and he was really confused there for awhile. S'why the really popular boys take the doting auntie before the festival."

The insides of Tulani's ears blush slightly at Tweak's explanation, as she grins at his description of the more popular boys' plight. "'Doting auntie'?" she asks.

"S'good thing I'm all scarred an' ugly. Don' think I could worry abou' any more women an' keep sane," jokes the Jupani from the chair. He lightly swirls his tea cup and half-closes his eyes. Then his eyes blink open and he sits up to glance at Tulani. "'Ey, did Raneah say she was goin' to join the festival?"

Finishing her incantation, Weewei explains, "He means antidote, dearie." She scrapes the crushed concoction of hair, wood, and unknown powdered substances back into the bowl.

Tulani nods to Arkold, replying, "Yes, I think she said shewas going," and turns to watch Granny Weewei continue her work.

"Okay now, stand up lad," Granny tells Arkold, setting the bowl down at his feet. "We needs to see what's causing the hex on ya," she explains, then lights a taper from the fireplace.

Arkold shoots Tweak a "see what I have to go through?" glance before he shrugs and lets himself fall back in to the chair. "Eh," he remarks. "I hope she's thinkin' straight or else this'll be a busy nigh- er." He rolls his head to give the old woman an oddly unsurprised nod before once again he pushes himself up to sitting, and then stands up.

"Don' think we need to be searchin' me over," the wolf comments nervously as he reaches for his neck. "I'm thinkin' I already know." And with a tug he removes his silver amulet from beneath his shirt and lets it dangle for all to see.

Granny touches the burning end of the taper to the powder in the bowl, which ignites with a somewhat rude sound before releasing a thick, green cloud of smoke which begins to work its way up around Arkold. "There's knowing and knowing, lad, but being sure is better all around," the witch says.

Tulani draws into a suspicious frown as she looks at the amulet hanging from Arkold's hand.

"Er, yeah. Goo' point," agrees the Jupani. He closes his hand around the amulet and nods for the woman to continue.

The cloud of oily smoke doesn't reach as high as the amulet. In fact, it hovers around the Jupani's waist at belt-level, making him look like that most unlikely ballet dancer in creation. Granny leans in, and then taps on the cylindrical canteen with the tip of her ritual knife, asking, "What's this?"

"Huh?" barks the man in surprise. "That? 'Eh, it's jus' a canteen. An' old canteen at tha'. The ol' sand-cat what sold it to me was sayin' it's some 'Ancient Canteen of the Expedition,' bu' I wouldn't go tha' far. Might be a relic, yuh, bu' I'm no' sure from where. S'got my mateh in it. Still warm too! Ha."

"It's cursed," Granny Weewei declares, standing up straight again. "Keeps things warm you say? And you've got a fever with no sign of illness."

Tulani looks relatively surprised, her eyes narrowing at this new revelation.

"I thought only swords and like were cursed," Tweak mutters, scratching at his cheek. "Like, they'd talk and ooze blood and stuff."

"My canteen's cursed?" repeats the wolf in obvious disbelief. He scratches his head with his free hand. "Uh, don' that jus' beat all. Y'want it?"

"Yeah!" Tweak exclaims.

Granny shakes her head. "Leave it here for a bit," she says, "so's I can try to riddle it out. Prolly can't just get rid of it, y'know. Curses ain't so easy to break. Go on to the festival and try to forget about it for now, then come back in the morning, got it?"

"Right-o then." Arkold removes the canteen from his belt and puts it down on a nearby table. "Great," he says a moment later. "I was thinkin' it was this 'ere amulet. An' I like this amulet." He tucks said amulet away and gives it a pat. "I'm feelin' better all ready."

Smiling happily, Tulani grabs Arkold by the arm, saying, "Let's go find Raneah," and dragging him towards the door.

"Tweak, go dump out the canteen in the privy," Granny tells her assistant, "then bring it straight back."

Tweak nods and scurries out the back of the cottage with the thermos. "Back by morning, don't forget, or I'll have to come track ya down," she reminds Arkold before he's pulled out of the cottage.

"'Ey thanks again!" calls the wolf as he's summarily dragged out of the cottage.

Out on the porch, Boggs finishes whittling the figure of a pregnant Rath'ani, and tosses it into a basket filled with similar fertility icons of various species. He nods once to Tulani and Arkold, then picks up a fresh piece of wood and goes to work on it.

Once outside, the black Sphynx lets go of Arkold and heads back down the road towards the town.

Following along, the lupine draws out his amulet and gives it a look. "Sure'd miss you," he mutters quietly. Then he sniffs, sighs pleasantly, and tucks the amulet away again.

"You shouldn't trust the diagnosis of some backwoods witch," comes a muffled voice from Tulani's bag.

"Wha' do you know," replies Arkold reflexively before he blinks and a glances around. He puzzles over the question of just which of their odds (mostly odds) and ends happens to be talking to them this time.

Tulani reaches into her bag, pulling out a rumpled map. She moves into the shadows of some trees before saying quietly, "So what do you think? Of Arkold's fever?"

"Oh, 'ey, it's Dunky," remarks the wolf as he spots the map and follows its holder over to the shady tree. "You thinkin' I'm bein' 'ad an' the witch jus' wants my canteen for 'er junk pile?"

"Could be a curse, sure," the map answers. "But you should have him checked out by a proper Life Mage. Not that I have anything against witches, mind you. My mother was a witch. I grew up with a perfect complexion. But if that canteen really is an old artifact, it could well be cursed."

The wolf frowns at this idea. "Any idea jus' 'ow much a 'proper Life Mage' costs, eh? I do, an' they ain't cheap. An' they sure ain't goin' to like a talkin' map," he argues.

"It'll be some time before I can speak again," the map warns. "Not until Unity Day comes around. But Candlemass is my favorite holiday of all. Sylvania is beautiful when Winter is dying and Spring is coming to life."

"Why don't we just leave it with her?" Tulani offers. "If it still causes problems, we can always look after it a little later."

"Yeah s'nice an' all but I don' really need a cup 'o mateh that badly. Even if it is hot," agrees Arkold.

Tulani nods, saying, "Right now we should probably find Raneah. Yeah?"

After a moment, the map says, "I wouldn't recommend that, Tulani. If it really is cursed, then leaving it behind could make things worse for your friend, since it would be the same as just throwing the item away. Then you'd have more than just a hot dog on your hands, you'd have a warm corpse. Heh … hot dog, get it?"

"They didn't flay you fer yer humor, did they, Dunky?" asks the wolf, annoyed.

The Sylvanian Sphynx just rolls her eyes at Dunky and Arkold's commentary, asking, "How are you feeling now, Arkold?"

"The living have no sense of humor," the map gripes, then asks, "Who is Raneah?"

"Bu' 'e's got a point there 'bout the canteen," adds Arkold. "You think it'll be there in the mornin', or s'that too long?" The wolf pats his head as he turns his attention to Tulani. "Warm," he admits. "I'm no' feelin' any better really, jus' maybe a bit higher in spirit s'all."

"S'easy to be funny when yer no' worrin' about becomin' a living pyre, bu' maybe if it up an' kills me I'll ask Tulani to make a map case out'o me an' I'll try my humor out on you fer the next thousan' years or so. Oh, an' Raneah's this mercat tha' follows me aroun'," the wolf answers.

"Speaking of high spirits," the map notes, "don't forget to get me some beer tonight. I heard mention of a festival, after all."

Tulani smiles, looking down at the map, and says, "Sure, Dunky." She turns to the Jupani. "Maybe you should stay here, Arkold. I could go find Raneah?"

"What, think I'm goin' to drop dea' walkin' around town? I'm a bi' hot, bu I ain't dyin' yet," replies the wolf. Then he nudges Tulani to lead on. "'Sides she'll be wantin' a garland if I know 'er right. I better get one, eh?"

Grinning, the black and white Sphynx puts Dunky in her pocket and continues down the road towards town.

After brushing his hair out of his face, the Jupani moves to walk along beside Tulani.

A hay-wagon full of people is drawn past along the road towards town, as more celebrants arrive from the beyond the forest.

As he walks along, the lupine keeps an eye out for the flower girl, or anyone else handing out garlands for that matter. "Sure is nice bein' in a quiet town on a holiday," he comments idly. "Hope wherever Raneah an' me retire to s'like this."

Tulani smiles happily, saying, "There are lots of nice places in Sylvania. Find a spot by a lake; I'm sure she'll love that!"

"Maybe, eh? I was thinkin' of headin' off to the Gigi Coast. Lots o' sea-lovin' cat-types out tha' way an' I was thinkin' they'd be a bit more likely to accept Raneah an' all," replies the wolf. He watches the wagon as it slowly passes them and nods to it. "Bu' maybe. If we do this thing an' accomplish what we're 'ere for maybe yer, uh, Sylvani leader might set somethin' up for Raneah an' me? Save me a trip."

The black Sphynx nods to Arkold, quietly wondering aloud, "I wonder if I'll get the chance to visit home soon… "

"So, uh, where do you come from, eh Tulani? I 'eard it was Sylvani, sure, bu' nothin' abou' the town," inquires the Jupani. "Eh, come to think o' it, I don' know much abou' Sylvani at all."

The main street buildings pass by, all closed up now. The sounds of a crowd can be heard from up ahead at the village green.

Tulani nods. "Well, I originally came from Justininople, but I got dumped me in an orphanage a few years after I wasborn." She shudders violently at the thought, gritting her teeth. "It was not a very nice place. To make a long storyshort, I ran away after a lot of unpleasantness and got taken in by the Herfrells. They're a wonderful family, and took real good care of me. I even have a brother. My home is ina little town near the border with Chronotopia."

As the two approach the town center, the lupine nods. "Huh," he comments. "Yeah I can see 'ow that'd be. Uh, me, I came from Rephidim." He cocks his head to the side as if considering some old memory and frowns. "Think I like travelin' more than there actually."

The black Sphynx nods, saying, "I've always liked to traveltoo." She pauses thoughtfully. "It's a nicelittle town. My parents run an inn, and my brother's training to be a woodworker." Suddenly struck by a thought, she reaches into her shirt. "He crafted this for me," she says, pulling out a small heart-shaped locket on a leather thong.

The festival grounds come into view, covered now with playing children, picnic tables and knots of people. Adolescents weave and dance around the ribbonpole; the two younger Savanites from the ship are with them. A long line of tables is covered in the fruits of the last harvest of winter – along with some of the fish brought in by The Kestrel.

Arkold leans over to peer at it. "Nice work," he says appreciatively before straightening. "My family, uh, well they were … or Dagh, maybe are, eh? … traders an' such. Merchants an' the like. Me, I never had much skill in tha' sort o' thing. S'how I started adventurin'. Tha' an' maybe I read a few too many novels. Heh."

Smiling at Arkold's explanation, Tulani eyes the festival grounds, looking for Raneah.

Near the seaward edge of the green, a large picnic blanket has been spread out. Reclining on it is Raneah, covered once more in a blanket and skirts, along with Bort the Rhian and the two older Savanites from the crew, all equipped with hefty tankards of ale.

Upon spotting Raneah, the wolf lets out a chuckle. "I'm goin' to sit myself down an' try a bit o' everythin' an' a lot of beer," remarks the wolf. His pace quickens as he heads towards one of the tables with food. "Looks like Raneah don' need help anyway."

"Don't forget about me," whispers Dunky to Tulani.

Tulani pauses to say, "Don't worry, Dunky," and pulls the map out of her pocket, folding it neatly so the markings don't show.

Raneah waves to Arkold, and indeed does have several flower necklaces adorning her. One of the Savanites at the ribbonpole dance spots Tulani and makes beckoning motions with his free hand.

Handing Dunky to Arkold, Tulani heads off briskly towards the ribbonpole, taking up one of the brightly colored streamers.

Dancing lightly around, the Sylvanian Sphynx laughs happily before suddenly taking flight, ribbon still in hand, landing atop the pole itself, turning circles with her wings out to keep balanced, and grinning happily.

Most of the dancers at the ribbonpole are a few years younger than Tulani, but there are plenty there her own age as well. There is a chorus of laughter from them at Tulani's antics, and a few whistles from the boys as well.

Arkold stuffs the map under his arm after briefly giving the ribbonpole a look. "Heh," he laughs as he sees Tulani run off towards it, "young people." He returns Raneah's wave after a momentary review of her rather large amount of garlands and then wanders around to gather himself something to eat.

There is still a good bit of roast boar left when Arkold gets to the buffet line, since the majority of the folks here are non-carnivores. One of the big Jupanis hacks off a slice for Arkold, and cheerfully says, "Enjoy the festival, stranger. And stay away from my daughters."

Several Korvs (but not Captain Ocho) take up streamers as well and fly up to try and wrap them around Tulani as part of the fun.

Tulani eeps playfully as the Korvs join in before going into a quick twirl and descending back to the ground with a quick hop, streamer still in hand, along with a few others captured from the Korvs.

The other wolf's commentary prompts a renewed bark of laughter from Arkold. He steadies his plate as he lifts it with one hand and then offers his free hand to the carving wolf for a handshake. "I wouldn' dare touchthe daughters of any man wieldin' the carvin' knife," he replies good-naturedly.

More squawking and laughing result, and it takes a few moments for the dancers to sort themselves out and start weaving the streamers again. The area beneath their feet is littered with all of the flower petals that have already been shaken loose from the streamers.

The Jupani father clasps hands with Arkold and grins. "Come 'round after the food's gone. We don't get many Jupanis coming through these parts."

Still grinning widely, Tulani excuses herself from the next weave around the Ribbonpole, heading toward the buffet, though sticking to a rather vegetarian diet.

"It's a deal," agrees Arkold while wearing a grin of his own. "Haven' seen many Jupani meself lately, an' it'll be good to be in like company again."

From the Sphynx's point of view, the fare at the buffet isn't a far cry from what her adoptive parents would serve. There are plenty of roasted tubers, baked goods and vegetable dishes, including a few that might be quiches.

Tulani gathers up a little bit of everything from the vegetarian table and heads over to where Raneah sits.

The Siren raises her mug in greeting to Tulani, and the captain can be seen sitting next to her, mostly hidden by the mercat's bulk, and smoking his pipe. Before the Sphynx arrives, a shaggy chestnut mare drags Bort off to dance, much to the amusement of the two Savanites.

Arkold bids the Jupani father good bye for the moment and after gathering up a bit of this and that (even the occasional bit of green) he makes his way back to where his friends have gathered. He arrives shortly after the "abduction" of Bort. "Enjoyin' the party, Raneah?" he asks as he sits himself down.

"Good beer!" Raneah says, and tosses one of her flower necklaces at Arkold. It lands across his muzzle.

The Sylvanian Sphynx settles down in the grass near Raneah and starts munching away at her vegetarian fare.

A small pile of bones nearby attest to Raneah's meal of cooked fish, while the two Savanites are still nibbling at their own dinners. One of them holds up a pitcher of beer and offers it to Tulani and Arkold.

Arkold chuckles again and accepts the offer. Despite his muzzle being decorated he manages to guzzle a draught just fine. "Yer right," he agrees. "It is goo' beer." Then he pulls the garland off his muzzle and hangs it so it circles one of his ears and half-droops of the side off his head like a broken halo.

Pausing a moment to swallow, Tulani takes the pitcher and proceeds to chug her portion of it, before tapping Arkold and quietly mentioning Dunky to him.

"Ah," murmurs the Jupani. He turns enough to hide his cup and the map and then pulls the map out so that he can drench it with beer. "Jus' remember who gets yer beer, there, map," he whispers.

"I'll treat you when you're dead, don't worry," the map whispers back.

"Thaaaanks," grumbles the lupine. He shakes the map off after he's done "feeding" it and tucks it away to dry. Mission accomplished, he returns his attention to the rest of the group as he begins cutting his side of boar in to slices. "So, uh, tell me what Sylvani is like," he asks no one in particular.

"Mostly green," Silas comments from the far side of Raneah. The two Savanites just wiggle their ears in silent mirth.

Mrrphing around a mouthful of food, the Sylvanian Sphynx says, "B-erry pitty."

"Huh, an' Ashtoreth was mostly blue, an' Abaddon red. Guess tha explains it all," says the wolf in half-hearted sarcasm. After stuffing a slice of boar into his muzzle he asks, "Anre lawks?"

"Lakes, bogs, swamps," Silas recites. "We've got 'em all. Fishing like you wouldn't believe."

Raneah perks up more at the mention of fishing. "Big fish?"

"Great," barks Arkold after a swallow. "I'm thinkin' I'll doa lot o' fishin' after I retire. Raneah," he gestures to the mercat with his knife, "likes fish too."

"Err, yeah," the Korv says. "Big… well, mostly fish. Never can tell what you'll hook, 's always a surprise."

"Ain't that the truth," agrees Arkold with a grin.

One of the Savanites puts his hands up against his cheeks and wiggles his fingers like tentacles while making faces. His partner nods and rubs his belly.

A light snoring sound now issues from near Raneah. Full of food and beer, Tulani has curled up in the grass, wings spread lightly over herself as she takes a "cat-nap."

"Uh, tentacles, eh," remarks a less than excited Arkold at the notion of edible mystery fish. "Well 'ow 'bout this: ever 'ear of a Czar Justinian the Sixth?"

"Yar," Silas says. "He was a Czar. After the troubles."

"The 'roubles?" prompts the wolf as he gnars a leg.

"Yeah, you know, the Necromancer Wars," the Korv replies, blowing a smoke-ring. "Thought everyone knew about them."

"My Sylvani history's a bit rusty," explains Arkold. He taps his leg of boar against his plate thoughtfully before he elaborates, adding, "Lot o' countries out there an' no offense an' such bu' I never expected to come ou' this way. So what's this 'ere 'Necromancy War?'"

Tulani snores. ZZZzzzzzzz

"Eh, it was a war betwixt Necromancers, o'course," Silas chortles. "All because some witch or goddess or something stirred them up, and one started calling hisself the Necromancer King. So those that didn't bow down foughtagain' him, and each other, and just about everything else too. Still ain't recovered from it all, what with the Gallees invading all the time since then."

One of the younger Savanites returns, and watches Tulani for awhile. Then he carefully reaches down to poke her in the shoulder with a finger.

Tulani ssnrrfs, fluffing her wings out, looking about for the source of the poke.

"Sounds like a right-friendly sort 'o place," comments Arkold. He takes another chomp of his boar leg (which he seems fond of gesturing with) and nods. "So this, uh, Czar. He ain't still aroun' is he? Wha' with necromancy goin' on an' all."

The young Savanite smiles nervously to the Sphynx and gestures towards where people are dancing, now that an actual band has set up and started playing.

"Don't be daft," Silas remarks. "That was generations ago. His grandson's the Czar now. Or maybe his great-grandson. Not like Justininople has a lot of sway in most of the country."

The Sylvanian Sphynx looks toward the dancers. Climbing briskly to her feet, she grins widely at the Savanite. Attempting to reproduce a clumsy Savanite ear wiggle of her own, she holds a hand out to him.

Smiling widely now, the spotted feline takes Tulani's hand and leads her off into the dance.

The wolf waves his leg of boar defensively, saying, "Eh jus' that what with, oh, eh, nevermind it. Well wha' this 'bout the Gallis invasion? Back when War started an' all I think I 'eard some busy-body poodle-sorts talkin' about it, bu' eh, an' no offense 'ere either, didn' pay it much mind at the time. Wha' with the War goin' on an' all. Then I up an' come back to Sinai an' Sylvani ain't even on the maps anymore."

"Well, that's politics for you," the Korv snorts. "Gallis helped out Rephidim in the war, and the sky-poodles thanked 'em by declaring Sylvania part of poodledom."

Tulani dances happily with the young Savanite, lifting his hand and twirling beneath his arm, wings carefully folded too keep them out of the way.

The Savanite enjoys himself too, his long legs giving him enough of a height advantage to handle Tulani's wings.

"You'd be amazed 'ow much of poodledom there is up there," Arkold says as he points skyward. "An' now tha' I think of it didn' some Sylvani sorts side 'gainst Rephidim? No' tha' a care anymore, mind ye, jus' getting my facts straight."

"I dunno, frankly," Silas admits. "Hard to imagine anyone in Sylvania being in a position to aid or hinder either side. Ain't like we got an army or airfleet or anything. Still working on reliable mail."

For a shift of pace, Tulani lifts her hand and spins the Savanite instead, laughing happily all the while.

"Huh." The Jupani nods to the point. "'ows the war goin' anyway? Meetin' you and Tulani there," he waves vaguely towards Tulani with his mostly eaten by now leg of boar, " … doesn' look to me like Sylvani 'as gone anywhere. An' I may be settin' myself to do some work for this Czar 'o yours, no' to mention trekking across all tha' greenery, so it'd be good to know eh?"

"The poodles've been busy settling into the areas they've already occupied," Silas says, pausing to repack his pipe. "Sylvania's a hard land to conquer, even by those who've lived there for ages. The last few times the Gallees have tried to advance further, they've been turned back or scared off, but it probably won't last. If we aren't recognized as an independent nation again, the poodles will eventually send a real army."

The Savanite (who Tulani remembers goes by the name of "Bob") plays up the novelty of being led by the Sphynx.

This sobering explanation causes the wolf's expression to droop noticeably. "Tulani there," he gestures to her again with less enthusiasm, "was thinkin' I ought to retire Sylvani-side, see. I'm thinkin' a country abou' to be conquered ain't somewhere to settle. Shame, too." The wolf takes a moment to regard the many faces gathered here with him, most of them Sylvanian ship crew. "Y'all seem like right decent folk."

The black and white Sphynx grins, leaning over to whisper briefly in Bob's ear before lifting her arm again for a spin.

The buffet tables are cleared, with a few being set aside for desserts as the afternoon fades into evening. The roasting pit is being built up into a bonfire now, and a Jupani girl around Tulani's age comes to the Kestrel crew's blanket and wags her tail. "Hello?" she says to Arkold. "My dad told me to invite you over for dessert and drinks if you'd like."

The Savanite nods and spins Tulani, but while setting himself up for the second spin he manages to catch his long legs in her wings and goes down in a pile of spots and feathers!

Tulani lets out a muffled meef before breaking into peals of happy bell-like laughter.

A few other dancing couples join in the fun by collapsing onto the ground as well, until a few of the adults worry that they're having too much fun and start pulling them off to the side to rest for awhile.

Bob looks horribly embarrassed, and glances about to see if the other Savanites noticed – only to be picked up by Bort and tossed over the Rhian's shoulder. "C'mon, let's get some dessert," he says to Tulani, offering her a hand up.

After his remark the wolf takes to staring at his plate as if he had suddenly lost his appetite, a look of quiet contemplation wrinkling his features. Whatever he was thinking is apparently derailed by the approach and greeting of the Jupani girl. He blinks as he looks up to focus on her. "Yuh? Oh, yeah. Comin'," he responds as he gathers his food and stands up. He gives the Sylvanians a nod before he heads off to join the Jupani – but not before casting a concerned glance back their way as if something were troubling him.

The Sphynx smiles happily, taking the offered hand up, and heading over to the deserts with Bort and Bob.

Raneah asks the captain if she can have some cake, and the Korv bows to her before heading for the dessert table himself. A few couples approach the bonfire and throw in some of the little carved fertility dolls, and the celebration of spring continues on into the night.