The crowing of a cock somewhere nearby awakens Sir Jarik "Darius" Fireclaw to the greeting of another day. The bedroom has changed from the day previous. The Savanite servant still there amongst the elegant, yet plain, furniture.

Jarik tries to sit up, "Ngh… Good morning… " He looks down at his body, trying to access his condition…

Sore, tired but much better. And still buck-naked!

Jarik makes sure the sheet maintains his dignity… "Um, could you step outside, please? I need to dress… "

The Savanite smiles and presents Jarik with the wrapped package that maintained his curiosity the previous day. It's filled with a fine set of clothes: A white shirt with a gray vest, a pair of russet breeches and a black belt. The knight's boots are on the floor, neatly shined.

The Savanite makes a sign in her language and exit from the room with a wave.

Jarik glances around to make sure he's alone and gets out of the bed. The fox stretches, muscles complaining. He walks over to the package and picks up the shirt. { My… new clothing. She shouldn't have done that… } O o . he thinks. The shirt is pulled over his chest and torso, fitting nicely. Next, the breeches are put on and secured. The shirt remains neatly tucked into them. The belt is passed through the loops on the breeches and secured snugly, yet gently around his waist. He sits in a chair and pulls on the boots and finally dons the vest. He looks around the room for a mirror…

The Mirror shows a well dressed, yet battered fox. The eye and ear are still wrapped as are his ribs (Indicated by the bulky bandages bulging the shirt). His fur is rather Unkempt but that's to be expected after sleeping.

Jarik runs his fingers with his claws slightly extended in an attempt to straighten his fur. "Wow… I haven't looked this good, well, barring the injuries, in a long time. " He glances toward the door. "Not everyone here is is blind to helping others… " he mutters, "perhaps there is hope for this world… "

A light rapping is heard on the door.

"Hello Mr. Darius. May I enter?"

Jarik nods, even thought whoever it is can't see, "Of course. Please do."

The Collie Gentlewoman and the Savanite servant both enter. The ever present Skorro standing Just outside the door. "Ah Its nice to see you on your feet again." Lady Callie says with a smile. "Please sit a moment so I may check your ear."

Jarik returns to sit on the edge of the bed. "As you request, Milady. What happened to what I was wearing when you found me… ?"

The lady examines the fox's ear, removing the bandages and reapplying some of the stinging alcohol before rewrapping it. "I'm afraid your garments were untenable. We had some spare clothing in our lockers and you are fair and welcome to them." She sits back and smoothes her trusses. "Please. Follow me and we can get you some air and brunch tea."

Jarik nods and stands up, "Please, lead on… Oh, what about my belt-pouch and sword? I'll need those back when I return to the road… "

The Collie nods as she leads Jarik into an elegant hall, heavily carpeted and lined with tapestries of the hunt. Skorro the Vartan looks at Jarik sternly as he takes his place behind the Gentlewoman. The Savanite servant takes up the rear, carrying a basket of the lady's medicinal supplies. "Father has them in safe keeping," she says as Jarik comes upon a great marbled staircase that spirals into an atrium overlooking the house's small but bloom-filled garden. "When the time comes for you to return to the road they are yours to ask for."

Jarik smiles and nods. "You are a true saint, Milady. I don't know how I'll ever repay you." He glances at the garden and blinks, she is obviously from a very wealthy family.

Jarik hmms as he walks on, "Would you know where the merchant Rajar is located?"

Callie smiles and swishes her tail once. "Payment is not necessary." She says as she descends the stairs delicately. "Was my duty. You were in need." She steps out into the garden, the fragrance of the flowers overpowering the smell of the city. A table is set with some fresh breads and fruit from the marketplaces. A Savanite male smiles and bows as he fetches a glazed amphora and pours 2 cups of wine.

Callie motions Jarik to the chair. "Please eat." She says in a voice that implys the doctor in her is talking. "The bread is fresh, and Tirree fetched the fruits from the markets this morning." The Light white bread and the fresh mangos indeed look mouthwatering.

Jarik smiles, honestly surprised, "Milady. You would have made a great knight. You truly have the heart." He looks at her, his good eye almost searching her soul, "That's a very rare gift, especially in this world. Only one other person has ever done anything for me and she didn't know me either." He moves to his chair and settles in to it gently. His muscles are still complaining about the abuse he recently put them through…

Jarik picks up a piece of bread and takes a small bite followed with a sip of wine to wash it down. He tilts his head as if examining the flavor and smiles, "Delicious… "

The Lady smiles at the compliment and unfurls a fan to wave away a mosquito. The Savanite butler quickly lights several cane torches about the table to drive away the insects. Callie Sips delicately at her wine, good fare, not the mundane watered fare from the bedside. "Then you may repay my kindness by bestowing it yourself upon some needing soul in the future."

"Now please. Eat your fill. You've not had anything since we found you." That revelation sends pangs of hunger through the fox's stomach. Four days worth.

The Savanite offers Jarik a wedge of heavy yellow cheese, wrapped in wax.

Jarik nods, "Always… Perhaps you would know the whereabouts of a merchant named Rajar? I do need to keep up with the Crydonian sword." He finishes eating the slice of bread and takes the cheese and smiles to the Savanite, "Thank you."

Jarik picks up one of the fruit and cuts it in half using one of the knives on the table. He sniffs at it, trying to see if it has a scent to anything familiar to him. No. He carefully takes a bite and swallows, his stomach thankful for the food.

The Butler smiles and bows as he recedes back into the distance. Callie delicately cuts a wedge from the mango and slips it into her mouth. She chews and swallows before tilting her head. "Yes I have." She makes an unhappy face. "What dealings have you with this man?"

Jarik takes another bite and swallows, "None, as of right now. He is in possession of the sword, to my knowledge."

A shadow passes over the courtyard. A great man-of-war floats over the courtyard from inland, heading towards the docks.

Jarik glances to the ship…

The Collie nods and dabs at her lips with a silken handkerchief. "The sword you lost?" She says a frown upon her delicate muzzle.

Jarik nods slightly, "Stolen, rather. It's a very dangerous item, I worry what could happen if it falls into the wrong hands."

Jarik sighs, "It's steel, which is rather rare here I'm told. That's the least of its virtues. That weapon is unique."

The Lady nods, "Then it is already in the wrong hands." She signs to Tirree who nods and pads into the main house. "That scoundrel and his wares have caused enough misery in this city as it is."

Jarik sits back, "Does he have any powers of magic?"

"Not that I am privy to." She perks up her ears delicately. "Why do you ask?"

Jarik says, "Well, I hope he doesn't. The sword takes and amplifies the bearer's magical ability. I'm worried, if he does, any contact with the sword and he'll know how to use it."

Callie nods and then looks to the side as Tirree returns and signs to the lady. The Collie nods and stands. "Are you well enough for a ride Mr. Darius?" She says as the butler begins to clear her place at the table."

Jarik finishes his fruit, "I think so. You did a remarkable job piecing me back together."

Jarik stands, "Once again, lead on, Milady."

Callie smiles. "You were hurt. but your wounds were not especially terrible." A shudder runs through her as she says that. "Your head and the rib bruises were the worst."

Jarik thinks. o O {I know what it's like to heal magically. My wounds were quite serious… The pain she must have endured… }

The Lady leads the Knight through the atrium into the foyer. The Butler appears with her parcel, hat and riding coat. "I've ordered my coach so we my take leave to the market and see if the scoundrel does indeed have your sword." She pulls on some soft gloves and opens the parcel as she steps outside. The Butler offers Jarik a cloak and wide brimmed archer's cap sporting a beautiful hawk feather.

Jarik smiles to the butler and accepts the cloak and hat. The fox dons the new garments with a flourish…

The pair exit into the street to the sound of the coach approaching. Before they enter the cab of the covered coach, another pulls into the gate, carrying a male Collie of regal stature, and his stag bodyguard. "Wildflower," he calls as he dismounts the open topped cart. "Where are you off to?" "To the market Father," calls the lady as she gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Mr. Darius has an errand that needs attendance."

Jarik bows slightly to the arriving collie, "Hello, good sir."

The Collie looks over the fox. "Ah, so you are awake at last." He says looking the Knight over speculatively. "So this is the lad that's so distracted my daughter these past days."

Jarik smiles, "Your daughter saved my life. I am indebted to her for that. Now, she seeks to aid me even further. You have one incredible daughter, sir. Few people would be so kind and helpful to a stranger."

The father looks at Jarik, "Such kind praise from a strange lad on the doorstep. Well I have to trust my daughters instincts on this." He smiles a bit. "But this can wait until this evening. I have business to attend to." He looks to Callie. "Be careful Wildflower." he says as he looks to Jarik. Would you like me to send Martek with you."

Callie smiles, "No Skorro is enough. Be well. I'll see you in time for dinner." She opens the door to the cb and steps in. The beaked head of Skorro can be seen inside waiting.

Jarik says, "Good day to you, sir."

Jarik stands, waiting for Callie to board the coach, "After you, Milady… "

The father's Stag bodyguard pokes his head into the cab and whispers into Skorro's ear. The Vartan looks at Jarik and his eyes narrow before he nods to the stag. Martek holds the door open for the lady as she gets aboard and then for Jarik, staring at him coldly. He closes the door and rejoins the father's side before the coach rolls out into the busy streets of the Water District.

Jarik sits back against the seat, feeling uneasy. It's obvious something was said about him. Sure, it's understandable that her father would be wary of him but…

"Your father thinks I'm dangerous, doesn't he?" The fox finally says.

The coach rolls down the street, the wooden wheels making a loud clatter on the cobblestones of the street. Soon it turns onto a wide causeway that angles towards the dock towers of the central city. "He is concerned for my safety." She says as she looks out the window, her fan waving to keep the road dust from settling onto her braided mane.

Jarik nods, "Understandable."

Jarik says, "What is this Rajar like?"

The carriage parts the crowd like a ships prow as it moves into the market district, soon approaching the grand canal and its enormous market squares. The driver halts the carriage at the edge of a large bazarre and opens the door. Skorro quickly dismounting to check the crowd, his bulky yellow frame causing some standing room to appear in the crowd as he glares about.

"A reprehensible scoundrel in the guise of a gentleman." Says the gentlewoman as she dismounts the carriage and opens her parcel.

Jarik exits the carriage and looks around. o O {Great, another bazaar. More room for another disaster to occur… }

Led by the bulky Vartan, Callie begins to make her way towards the center of the bazaar. Stalls and wagons of metal goods and tools are crammed amidst a press of swirling fur, the noise deafening as merchants and customers haggle over the prices while criers scream out their sales pitches. The ground is covered in debris of all sorts, dropped wares, discarded food and assorted rubbish. The air smells of sweaty bodies and the pungent aroma of the grand canal.

Jarik glances about the crowd as they move along. Right now he wishes he had some sort of weapon, else in a fight he's an open target. Hopefully this will be a short and successful trip. Then again, it's more likely that this place will be buried in 10 feet of snow any moment. Trouble follows this fox like flies to garbage.

After an age of zigzagging through the congestion and noise Callie finally slows and points to a wagon with a pull out canopy. Inside is a collection of boxes crates and racks holding an assortment of spears, axes and blades. "Why, hello there Lady Callie," comes a smooth voice. "How may I be of assistance to you today?"

Callie smiles as she looks at the well dressed fox that emerges from the tent. "You could cease with your malignancy, Lord Rajah." She says sweetly. "But then we've had this discussion before."

Rajah laughs, "Of course we have my dear. But you know as well as I without me, you'd be bored to tears." He smiles, "My clients are good for business, even you can not argue that logic." He leans on his thick cane. "But I assume you aren't here for philosophical discussions." And who is your new friend?"

Jarik thinks. o O Patience, Fireclaw, patience… }

Jarik bows, "I am Darius, kind sir. You may be in possession of something I seek."

Callie smiles a sweet smile of pure malevolence towards the arms merchant. "His name is Darius and he is looking for a sword." She smiles and steps back allowing Darius to speak for himself as she bores holes into the fabric of the tent with her gaze.

Jarik's pupil narrows, "Not just any sword, mind you. A specific one."

Rajah smiles and ushers Jarik into the tent. "Ah, well we have many to choose from, are you looking for chitin or metal?

Jarik says, "A simple, old, steel sword. Battered and worn. Curved brass quillion, tarnished, with a leather-wrapped handle."

"Ah… but why would you wish an older weapon when we have the finest in fresh steel from the smiths of the North?"

The guards in the tent keep an eye on Jarik and their wares at the same time.

"Because," the fox explains, "The one I seek is belonged to my friend and master, Sir Fireclaw. It was stolen from him. It carries great symbolic meaning."

Rajah starts to pull out several swords, well oiled and wrapped in – "A thousand pardons sir. What do you take me for a fence? By word I am not a common thief of the foul waters."

Jarik nods, "But, you deal in weapons. It could have been sold in pretense here."

The guards appear distracted as a group of drunken revelers start to press towards the edges of the tent, pointing and gawking at the chitin swords on display there.

Jarik says, "I was informed it had been sold to you no more than 5 days ago."

Rajah tries to settle his ruffled feelings. He looks Jarik over. "A Curved brass quillion you say?"

Jarik nods, "The blade itself had many nicks on it. The quillion was brass and tarnished."

The fox looks Jarik over and heads into his wagon. He soon emerges with a wrapped leather parcel, probably a sword by its shape.

"Does this look to be to your pleasure?"

Jarik raises an eyebrow and waits to see what he's carrying…

Rajah unwraps the sword. It appears very familiar, VERY familiar. All the nicks are in the right places, and the leather has familiar wear patterns indeed.

Jarik extends a paw… "Mind if I see it? I need to check the balance and such… "

The arms merchant extends the sword, pommel first to Jarik. "Quite a fine weapon in its time although it appears to have seen better days. Surely I can interest a gentleman of your caliber in another blade. Perhaps an enameled blade from Kassa, or a great clan sword from Eker?"

Jarik touches the pommel… If it's truly his, he'll feel the magical link… His muscles tense upon contact, it's the one! He can't believe it! He's barely able to keep his excitement hidden, "No, this is it… Like I said, it has symbolic importance." The fox's ear droops, "Now… what would it cot to acquire it?"

The dealer watches Jarik's form intently, reading his body language. "Well sir as it has come from a far land, as my contact said. I could possibly part with it for say, 15 gold? I know it is stout but what is the price of gold in the name of tradition and lineage?"

The noise of the crowd outside takes a strange pitch as if something is amiss.

Jarik winces inspite of himself, "Too much, I'm afraid. Besides, with the condition that it's in, that price is outrageous." The fox thinks, "Is there any way I could trade for it? Items or services?"

Jarik foxes ear swivels to locate the sound going on outside. Instinctively, his grip tightens on the hilt…

The drunk Jupani from earlier enter the tent and start to look around, giving the guards mild paranoia attacks.

Jarik moves back a little, keeping watch on the Jupani and Rajar to see what is about to happen…

The crowd appers to part as a group of constable start to emerge from it looking into the tent, their crossbows cocked and leveled. It quickly comes apparent the tent is surrounded.

Jarik looks to see if he can make an exit without being seen. If they find out who he is… the temple will surely come for him…

A large wolverine steps forward with a megaphone. "Jarik Fireclaw" He calls, "You are completely surrounded. Surrender and come out peaceably or you will forfeit your trial and meet deadly force."

Jarik's eyes widen, "Oh… dear."

Jarik looks to Rajar, "Is there any way I can get out of here???" The fox looks terrified.

Jarik looks outside to see if Lady Callie is anywhere close by…

Rajah's eyes widen and he swears loudly pulling out a hand crossbow and leveling it at Jarik. "You had better not cost me or I will have your hide as a floor rug."

From outside the voice calls again. "Jarik Fireclaw. This is your final warning. Surrender or face the consequences."

Jarik snarls and ignites the sword with a brilliant blue flame, "Do not threaten me, you worthless thief. You're lucky I didn't gut you earlier. Put that down or we'll both get killed… "

As Jarik pulls the sword, the drunks become startlingly sober, producing Bolas and swirling them over their head to let fly.

Jarik leaps toward the drunks' legs, hoping to knock them down before they are able to throw…

The bolas let fly. Jarik fouls up one of the "drunks" but receives a pair of bolas around his legs and torso, the heavy stones smashing upon his knees and against his sore ribs.

Jarik reaches down and tries to pull the bola free from his legs…

A couple dozen guardsmen boil into the tent from all directions, upsetting the racks and swamping the fox by sheer force of numbers. Ropes appear from everywhere and begin to bind his limbs together.

Jarik struggles against the ropes, rage filling him, "Release me!!"

The guards soon have Jarik securely bound, leading the struggling fox out of the tent. There before him stands the father Kavi and his young son, the father leaning on a wooden crutch to stay off his leg. "Aye! E's th' one. Right were ah said 'e' woul' be. 'E's th' one tha' stuck m' kin and roughed up m' kitlin'."

Jarik snarls, "Stuck? You attacked me. I had to defend myself!"

The Wolverine nods to the father and then looks to his guards who release a struggling Collie. "How dare you! Constable Greycha!" She says indignantly. "You know who I am! How do you expect me to heal your own when you treat me as a common criminal."

Skorro stands freely beside his charge. Staring directly towards the fox with a knowing grin on his beak.

The constable looks to Jarik, "That's what they all say. Tell it to the judge." He looks to Lady Callie. "Forgive me milady but you have been in hands with a murderer and brawler. We had to get you safely away without alerting him to our presence."

Jarik glares at the father, "I treated you with mercy, which is a lot more than you had planned for me. I defended myself and let you live to raise your family. Haven't you even the SLIGHTEST bit of honor in you?",

Callie SLAPS the constable across the face, eliciting laughter from the guardsmen. "My father shall hear of this." She looks at Jarik. "I will return with help. Fear not."

The Kavi grins at Jarik wickedly and smiles. "Fah Killer. Dunna insult me with yer lies." He spits, "A least th' reward will put shoes on m' kitlins an' food in their guts."

Jarik looks to Callie, "Milady, do not endanger yourself further on my account. You don't deserve to get hurt. There are so few like you, Callie. Honor is scarce. Perhaps my time is finally gone, but, at least I know honor doesn't die with me."

Jarik looks back at the father, "No more so than the butcher, liar, thief and coward you are."

Callie looks to Jarik, her ears flagging down against her ruffled fur. She spins on her foot and disappears into the crowd, Skorro following closely behind her as the crowd parts to make room for the visible furious mage.

The Kavi laughs, "Aye! But tis no I who'll be goin' t' th' block govna. Sleep well on th' wall Sir Jarik Fa'claw."

Jarik smiles, "Death comes for us all, even you. I will be waiting."

The Guards heft Jarik up and half lead, half drag him towards a police cart that's been backed into the market. They heft the captive Knight onboard and secure him to the floor before piling onto the cart themselves. They chatter jocularly as the cart wades through the crowd towards the canal, crossing the high bridge at the center and moving towards the central fortress. Soon they are inside the thick walls and dismount taking Jarik into the waiting gates and the dungeon below.