Pushing open the door, the sable Skreek pauses but for a heartbeat. Lifting the brim of his hat, he resets it at a rakish angle. Then, whiskers twitching, Skye padpads in, heading towards what might serve as a bar. With a small shrug he climbs up upon of the wooden stools, brushing off the counter before he leans forward, looking up and down the bar. Sharp eyes try to spy a barkeep.

A googly-eyed lizard with large sticky fingers uses them to snap up some coins left on the countertop by a departing patron. Then, he turns to look at the Skreek. Looks like this is the barkeep.

One of the Shigas contributing to the subdued mood of the establishment sits cross-legged on a slightly tilted stone, with a small calf-height wicker end-tableish bit of furniture near him holding a small ceramic bottle and saucer. Every so often, he takes reaches over to take a sip from the saucer, and looks up a little to peer out from beneath the deep cowl of his cloak.

The front doors open again, and several Savanites come in, hauling what look to be nothing more than rocks on some wooden carts.

The cheetahs start pulling the rocks off the carts and setting them down on the floor as they roll through the room.

Skye opens his muzzle to speak, but then shuts it suddenly.Remember what Lakshmi said about respectability, a long way from home we are, yes? . He holds for a moment, before politely ducking his muzzle. When he speaks, his words are simple, atrociously accented, but at least in his host's language and not yet stretching the limits of his Imperial vocabulary. "Afternoon, yessss? Sssummat to drink, Master? Ale?"

The lizard barkeep nods, and goes over to a keg, pouring a mug of ale. As he does so, suddenly all of the patrons in the bar (save for Skye, of course) get up, as if in unison, taking up their drinks and meals. They move over and sit on the rocks brought in by the cheetahs, and sit down, resuming as if nothing has happened. The cheetahs start to take out the rocks the lizards were previously sitting on. (They don't touch the stools, including the one Skye is sitting on.)

The cloaked and cowled Shiga is now seated beneath a painted paper lantern in the shape of a grinning yiffle. It casts a blue light over his gray cloak. Settled in, he wiggles his blue-scaled toes, and takes his saucer again, which vanishes beneath his hood for a moment.

The rat's words fade, as Skye notices the Savanites and their cargo of stone. His gaze quickly darts all across the room, taking in the other patrons' reaction to this – well, to this Skreek – unexpected event. Then he smiles, as the reptiles shift to their new furniture. When the ale is set down next to him, he reaches down to retrieve a few coin from his purse, laying them atop the bar. Skye looks back to the barkeep. "Thank you. Weather cool has been?"

A mug is set before Skye, and the barkeep nods. "Winter," the barkeep hisses.

The Savanites calmly load the vacated stones onto the carts, and roll them back out the front door.

Skye nods. "They are warm, yes? The rocks? A good thought. My boss'Laks'mi would like that, when she is in … in … field?"

The hooded reptile exchanges a few brief signs with a Savanite waitress.

Taking a long sip of ale, Skye leans forward once again. "This one to Nagai City go. Someone here, might news of Nagai City have? And maybe Rephidim Standard speak?"

The Savanite waitress walks over to the barkeep. The barkeep looks at her for a bit, and then nods, and shoos her off.

The lizard barkeep returns his attention to Skye. "Yeh. That one over there." He points over to a rock table. "He hearsss thingsss."

The darkened part under the seated Shiga's hood seems to be directly facing Skye and the bar now. Gloved paws cradle the saucer in the reptile's lap.

The lizard barkeep appears to be pointing at a Shiga sitting under a paper yiffle lamp, at a rock table.

Skye chitters, "Thank you." Snaring his mug and change, he bounces down off the stool to pads lightly towards the rock table. After his first step, he pauses, to give the cowled one an equally long stare. He then shrugs, and walks up to the table. "Afternoon. You tales collect? I Nagai City go." With a nod, Skye abandons his broken Imperial for Darkside accented standard. "Mind if I sit and talk wit' yi a bit?"

"By all means, have a seat, traveler," hisses the lizard smoothly, gesturing at the opposite side of the stone. "My 'home' is your home, and your tab is my tab." He reaches over to swirl the contents of his ceramic bottle, then signals a Savanite to come refresh it, even as he converses. "What brings you to the Empire?"

A cheetah refills the bottle, bows to the lizard, then glides away from the rock table again.

Chuckling brightly, Skye easily settles down upon the rock, setting his ale down in front of him. "Now t'at's a proper greeting and it's much appreciated." With a twitch of his long whiskers, he continues, his reply straightforward and dryly pragmatic. "My feet, Dromodons, selona coac' and most recently an either confused or carnivorous serendip.It eit'er t'inks my tail isa plant or it's acquired a taste for Skreek. Actually, I've been working t'e Savan for almost two years now, or so my boss'Laks'mi says. She collects beasties rare and unique, yes? Now t'oug' I be going to Nagai City, to do some learning for her." He pauses, for a long moment, his eyes half closed, as if trying to remember something. "Oh!" He extends a black paw. "Most folks call me Skye."

The reptile reaches out to shake the proffered paw, his Rughrat leather gloves creaking. "Always a pleasure to meet such a widely traveled fellow. People fancy calling me the Catfish today, so you can call me that too." Sitting back again, he gestures at the empty stretch of warm rock between them. "I see you've already gotten a drink… something to eat perhaps? It's called 'The Happy Yiffle', but they accommodate a wide variety of tastes here."

Skye says, "Catfish, t'en." Skye leans back, looking about. "But yi'self, must also be well traveled, yes? It's not as if Rep'idim is t'e common tongue t'is way. As for me, a few slices of roast bromt'en and an apple or two would do me fine." Reaching down, he again steals a few coins from his pouch to set upon the table. When he looks back up, Skye quickly explains. "Oh, not to be against yi hospitality. I have a compatriot bound at t'e stables all morning. I'd appreciate it if yi could ask t'e server lassie to pack up some Bromt'en and fruit to go, since t'eir hand speak is still beyond me? This coin be for her." He takes a sip of his ale, "As for yi, I was told yi collect tales? Any, mayhaps, of Nagai city, t'e last space of time?"

A Savanite servant wanders by, and replaces Skye's mug with a full one, before shuffling along again.

Catfish's cowl dips a little in a nod, though he makes no attempt to reach for the coins. "Of course, my chatty friend. Serenity? Serenity, please ask Jaksunn to cook up a plate of bromthen meat and bring us a fruit basket… and prepare the same in a picnic wrap for Skye's friend." He pauses to sip at his saucer again, setting it back down on the stone surface with a clack. "I've done my share of travelling, yes. Mostly business related, I'm afraid. There's seldom time to see the sights. But there's always something to entertain in Nagai, yes indeed. Slitherball season is over… I think the championship went to the Monoliths, though the Thunderheads will be angling for a crack at them come the spring seeding placement tournaments and exhibition games. The Challenge of the Emperor has been what's been taking most people's minds off Nagai's current woes, lately."

Tilting his head, beneath his hat, the little Skreek's ears perk. "T'e Emperor has made a c'allenge? And w'at mig't be t'e problems t'is c'allenge be trying to hide?"

The odor of roasting bromthen meat wafts through the bar, carried on a draft coming from the kitchen.

Skye's whiskers twitch, tantalized by the delicious aroma. Eyes glancing kitchenwards, he steals another sip of ale.

"Well, he's issued a number of different challenges, actually," Catfish muses, thoughtfully tugging on a longgreenish whisker-like spine that dangles from the shadowy confines of his hood. "On the one hand, there've been rumors of a military crackdown against the 'rebels' in the City of Hands. That's been around a while yet… Things are tense, and there's a lot of speculating, but nothing is sure. The other challenge is less politically earthshaking… more of a tournament, really."

An anole staggers past, bobbing his head amiably, headed for the front door. With any luck, he might make it out the – *crash* – Well, maybe he won't. A Savanite servant helps him back up to his feet, and gently guides him toward the doorway. The anole staggers on out, singing a drunken and off-key song to himself.

Raising his mug to his companion, Skye nods. "T'at be a good t'ing to be knowing, afore wandering into any city. Not, of course, being familiar w'it t'e bad blood between t'e two places. T'at's a problem w't being in t'e field for long bits, yes? And t'is tournament, w'o mig't t'at be attracting?"

Catfish sips at his saucer again, then begins refilling it with a somewhat gooey substance from his bottle. "You must've been quite far afield if you haven't heard about the City of Hands. The Savanites in that region have declared sovereignty for themselves, having followed the boon granted by the Emperor declaring Savanites to beupgraded to Jingai-level status. It's held that the City of Hands bears historical significance for the Nagai; the Savanites claiming it is a slap in the face when compared to the… (ahem) outrage of them claiming to be a totally independent peoples. This has been a fairly long-running and complicated issue in the Nagai political scene lately, and I fear it's only about to get more tangled."

Bambridge takes a moment to savor his drink, holding up a finger to demonstrate he hasn't forgotten the question about the tournament. The polite pause gives the opportunity to get a word in edgewise, at least.

Skye continues to sip his ale, his eyes narrowing. "About to get more tangled? T'at sounds like yi know somet'ing, like seeing t'e wind shift before t'e t'understorm hits. Somehow I t'ink most folks will have more on t'eir minds t'en a Skreek ant a slave asking questions about a fanciful critter. No matter how magical it might be … "

Skye nods in return, allowing Catfish to continue if he so wishes.

"I wouldn't worry as much about that, Skye," hisses the cowled Shiga, setting his saucer to one side. "As unpleasant as this might be to hear, all guests of the Empire, Skreek, Rhian, Jupani, or what have you, are lumped in the same caste… that being, less than Jingai. Really, it's not as bad as it sounds. People are just less likely to take you seriously or pay you attention. As for your slave, well… that's just common sense. If a Savanite starts asking questions around Rephidim, it would be just as suspicious, wouldn't it? As for the tanglement… whew." Catfish tips his head back to roll his eyes, and for a split second, enough light filters into the hood to make out the outline of a barbed and spiny reptilian face. "The perceived irresponsibility of the Savanites with regards to their freeman status has led many people to try legally working around it. Does the phrase 'indentured servitude' mean anything to you?"

Serenity – the Savanite addressed earlier – comes out, holding a tray with a steaming hot platter of bromthen meat on it. She sets it down before the rat.

"Thank you, m'dear," hisses Catfish.

Serenity bows her head, and moves along.

Skye laughs quietly, taking a long drink from his ale. "T'at's w'en a fancy merchant a few s'ops above t'e Bazaar hires yi for food an board, an t'en charges yi for food an board, an yi be lucky if'n yi are not gray and rickety by t'e time yi can finally pay off t'at debt." Pausing, Skye lets out a contented sigh. "T'at smells wonderful, lassie, t'ank yi much." Without a pause, the Skreek takes up a delicious slab and begins to gnaw. Between nibbles he continues, "As for Mandara, s'es a Lacinus, and not a Savanite, so folks will be looking at her strange regardless. As for being less t'an Jingai… " Skye gives Catfish a wry and Desolate Band dry grin. "As for being less t'en a Jingai, well t'at's not'ing new." He holds up a paw in mock surprise. "Oh my, I really be a Skreek."

Catfish holds his paws to either side in an apologetic gesture. "What can I say? Sometimes the old-world policies of the Empire can be stifling. It's gotten in the way of my business from time to time. On a more pleasant note, the Challenge of the Emperor has been quite fascinating. You were curious about it, weren't you? It's a fighting tournament sponsored by the Emperor-Potentate himself. He has a very impressive cadre of mages at his disposal, to both make chance meetings between martial arts masters more likely, and to allow people to view them from afar when they happen."

The Skreek shrugs quietly in return. A friendly gesture, anchored in the pragmatic. "Not'ing for yi to say, but thank yi. It's not'ing I can c'ange, ant well, its not'ing I would c'ange even if some'ow I got t'e c'ance. T'is black fur is quite comfortable upon t'is Skreek. So yi just shrug and walk on, yes?" Taking a second slice of meat, he continues to gnaw and nibble. "Oh, t'at sort of tournament. T'at's good news, yes? T'ose wit' a need to be bas'ing may find it against each ot'er, rat'er t'an c'oosing an out of town visitor to test t'eir mettle on."

Catfish's head tilts slightly as he works at deciphering the thick accent. "I suppose it's convenient for the masters, too. They're a rowdy lot, quite the hoot to watch. Talk of the town lately has been old Master Long Tooth, of the Arthritic Open Paw of Severe Drubbing. I dare say, a pants-wearing biped can't walk down the street these days without some young ruffian hoisting the back, shouting 'Uber-Wedgie!' and running off laughing." He tilts forward again, a wry tone to his voice. "Naturally, none of this bothers the actual Nagai at all."

Reflexively crossing his arms about his waist, Skye sits back upon the rock. "I t'ank yi for t'e warning. And assuredly t'e Nagai would not be bot'ered by t'at. No pants." Shaking his long muzzle, Skye relaxes and returns his attention to the intriguing reptile before him. "Would yi know t'e House of Taxidermy? Is it hard to find once I get to t'e city?" He rests his paw upon the edge of the stone table, letting his fingers drum for a bit upon its edge, mayhaps another question formulating.

Skye patiently waits, as Catfish considers his query.

"I know of the school indirectly, through business associates," replies the lizard, steepling his fingers. "As one of the many schools of Nagai, it shouldn't be difficult to find. Nagai educational institutions are held in high regard. Therefore, you should probably be able to visit a Nagai governing building, and ask for a centralized listing of schools from which you should be able to discern the location. Provided the lines aren't too long. If you don't mind me asking, what dealings does your employer have there?"

Skye frowns slightly. "Might it have a sigil I might recognize?" He then leans back, retrieving his paw from the table edge to snare an apple from the bromthen basket. Crunch . "I have heard t'at a master t'ere a strange critter he has. Not a stuffed w'ispa, like fancy it'uns in a park, but something claimed to be a w'ispa true."

The Shiga rubs his nose thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I can't help you there… My acquaintance with the school is only passing. I'm sure it has a much longer 'formal' name, and probably a seal associated with it." Catfish snickers a bit, putting his paws back down to take up his saucer again, pouring a fresh serving. "As for the w'ispa… well, I've never put much stock in fairy tales. There's a rumor that a Master Dorshall caught a w'ispa. But then again, with a collection as extensive as his, rumors can become quite fanciful. Morbid, even."

Skye nods. "Tat's t'e name I have, it is. Dors'all. And w'ile it might be fanciful, t'is hunt has taken a few strange turns, w'ich would lead t'is one to believe t'ateven if t'ere be no w'ispa in Nagai City, t'ere mayhaps be truly w'ispa in t'e flood plains to find. And between me and yi, if t'ere is anyone w'o can find a legendary critterling, t'at would be my master Laks'mi."

"Is that so? You must be a fine team indeed. If there's w'ispa out there, I'd say your coming back with one would be as safe a bet as any." Catfish sets the bottle down, sipping at his saucer again. There's a moist sound from under his hood, like the licking of lips, and then he sets the saucer back down. "One thing you should know about Nagai: there's a lot of red tape that circulates around, especially involved in import, ownership, and trade of things as exotic as 'rare' pelts. I specialize in untangling it, and smoothing the process of shipping and arranging trade – for a modest fee. If you find yourself with such goods, and a potential blockage like that, you tell Jaksunn you're looking for old Catfish, all right?"

Skye says, "I am sure Master Laks'mi would be very pleased to meet yi, and your name I'll gift to her, as well as the tale of your hospitality an' speech. As for t'e two of us – well it's actually t'ree, because yi can't forget Mandara, her slave. But aye, w'itout me, for sure master Laks'mi would find t'e critterlings, but t'en spend t'e next four seasons trying to find her way back to civilization." Skye smiles. "A master of shipping and trading and bureaucracy. I t'ink, if we do find t'e w'ispa, t'e furor it will raise will certainly be needing a bit of help."

The cloaked lizard presses a paw to his chest. "And I am that help. My services are at you and your master's disposal, Skye. Should you wish to arrange a meeting, you can let Jaksunn know, or if you happen to go deeper into Nagai City, one of my contacts might find you. If not, I'm always interested in news from the fringe."

Skye looks across then, speaking a bit more quietly, "In t'e realm of tales, however, have yi ever heard of a taxidermist sewing a critter together from pieces, to make a claim w'ere one doesn't exist?"

The Shiga raises his paw again. "Serenity? Would you please bring us some honey-fried locusts?" Looking back across the table, Catfish's shoulders shake with tastefully restrained mirth. "Ah, yes. That practice has come to light before. Very controversial around the School of Taxidermy, and I imagine highly frowned upon."

A basket of honey-fried locusts is quickly deposited upon the table. That didn't take long.

Skye looks to the locusts, whiskers twitching. "May I?" Then he just shakes his head, a knowing smile crossing his muzzle. "Actually, I would t'ink it's all a matter of how good yi are at it."

Catfish gestures at the basket, taking one for himself. "By all means, try them. They're a favorite of mine." The candied bug disappears under Catfish's cowl, accompanied by crunching noises, and the smacking noises of sticky fingers being licked. "Well, I'm not privy to the school's philosophy regarding the 'creative license' of taxidermists. Suffice it to say, they don't like it overly much. I imagine there must be a sense of pride involved."

Skye reaches out, and snares one of the confection. He crunches and smiles. "Yi learn to eat most anyt'ing in t'e s'adows of t'e Bazaar. But never had t'e means to be putting honey on t'em. It's adefinite improvement, it is." Snaring a second, Skye crunches again. "As for a matter of pride, t'at can swing bot' ways, like an Inquisitor's sword. However, for Master Laks'mi sake, I hope it is a real critter he has found. Jaksunn, t'at name I will remember, and your words. I know how tangled a city easily becomes. It's its own kind of wilderness, yes? So, for yi, are yi traveling to or from t'e city?"

"I've no need to travel, my friend." The reptile's voice has a smile, and the cowl tilts to one side. His hands spread to the sides, palms up. "I'm everywhere."

The Skreek is, for a moment, a heartbeat, stock still. "Everywhere? But no one can be everywhe – " Skye lets the words fade, as he reaches up and ruffles his muzzle with the back of one paw. "Unless yi be one of t'e Temple. T'ey are supposed to be everywhere … but mostly t'ats because t'ey have agents all across sea and stars. Yi are not Temple folk, are yi?"

Catfish actually laughs at this, a good natured chortle. "No, no, no… anything but, actually. I'm just well-connected, that's all."

Letting out a long, long breath, Skye visibly relaxes."I see. I t'ink. And t'at I shall too remember, for knowing w'o to know is often more effective t'an a bright and shiny metal blade. So I believe next, well, let me try a far safer, boring but practical question. T'ere's been no problem related, on t'e trail between here and Nagai City?

"As far as I know, there's been little problem," hisses Catfish, helping himself to more of the candied bugs. "The Empire, (crunch) despite being rather spread out (crunch, crunch) has a sizeable standing army. Nagai is a large (crunch) city, so they can afford (crunch, smack) to defend areas around it."

A burly Rokuga with a wide keg on a hand dolly wheels his delivery in. He looks inquiringly of Jaksunn, and the barkeep gestures at the back room.

Skye smiles, easily distracted by the snack. "Unless t'e Empire decides to do some flexing of its muscles, in the direction of t'e Savanite city. Sometimes I am very happy to be back in t'e woods and flood plains. Every time my muzzle crosses politics, someone tries to snip off my w'iskers. T'oug' I do miss dry furniture and tall buildings."

Nodding, the reptilian quadruped disappears into the back room with his shipment, then takes the tip left for him on the counter before leaving.

Catfish nods, tapping his knuckles on the table. "Well, there's always a price to pay for creature comforts. At any rate, was there anything else I could do for you and your associate?"

Skye straightens out his whiskers with one paw. "Oh, well, actually just t'is was an unexpected windfall. I was just mulling if t'ere was anyt'ing yi might be inquiring in return, for t'ese tidbits of information."

Bambridge folds his paws in front of himself, tapping the thumbs together. "Not to worry, my friend. My contacts are many, and should I require access to the wealth of knowledge in that furry mammalian head of yours, me or one of my associates will meet you – at your convenience, of course. In the meantime, please enjoy the rest of your meal, with my compliments. I've truly enjoyed our conversation, but there's always humdrum busywork in the background to return to."

Skye laughs quietly. "And I'd be a very silly Skreek to be turning down a free meal. Thank yi, yi'honor. And I admit, it would be interesting to see yi splash up in a serendip, in ta middle of a lonely flood plain. I know Laks'mi would be amazingly intrigued."

The Skreek taps the brim of his hat with one paw. "Any roads, any roads, may your path always be leading yi to somew'ere to, and not just from. I'll be keepin' a sharp eye out for yi. Real sharp, yes?"

The Savanite servants begin bringing in their carts of heated rocks, causing several of the more listless patrons to perk up a bit. Catfish himself stands, gathering his gray cloak around himself. "The pleasure was entirely mine, Skye. Take care of yourself. And don't keep too sharp an eye out, all right? Heh, heh." With that, the Shiga nods at Serenity, tugging the end of his hood, and makes his way to the door. Jaksunn pauses in shining a glass to wave at the cloaked lizard, who departs.

Skye turns his head, watching the cloaked lizard take his leave, his expression hidden by the shadow of his hat. The roast of bromthen, however, is a practical temptation, stealing the Skreek's attention until there is nothing left but empty plates and memories of sweet tidbits. Well, almost. Eventually Skye leans back, to retrieve the hot lunch to go from the silent Serenity. Leaving a few coins upon the table, he stands. I hope Mandara likes the honey-coated insects With a wry grin, Skye padpadpads to the door. And if not, mayhaps more for me…