(OOC) Fri -->

The stay in Rephidim has been less than restful for the archaeologist-turned-minister Bassai. The poodle noble who owned what was once the 'Beginners' Luck' was not very receptive of Bassai, despite his smooth words and typically Nagai subdued emotions. The most that could be said about the whole affair is that while the poodle is still hopping mad … there's just not really much that he can DO about it. One can only hope he won't be so desperate as to TRY anyway.

The day finds Bassai in the main room of the Three Thieves' Inn, at a meal of fresh yiffle, flavored with spices that have been rare in Rephidim until fairly recently. It seems the whole world is changing, and not just the Savan, for word has gotten in – first as rumor, and now as verified fact – that the Sabaoth (ruler of Babel) has died, and has been replaced by his son, the High Prince Boghaz. The war is over. Many in Rephidim are not happy about this, since most of the blows were struck by the other side, without much opportunity for retaliation. It's an unpleasant atmosphere. But at least Bassai is not a bat.

At the fireplace – which serves as the main room's 'stage' of sorts – a foppish fox strums on his lute, murmuring to himself, in the middle of trying to compose a new song, perhaps.

A random selection of moody Jupanis, frantic Kavis, glass-bedazzled Vartans and furtively-peeking Skreeks fills many of the tables and a few of the barstools. As is most often the case, there isn't much in the way of table service. "You gots legs, you use 'em!" is the way Jakka would put it, except that at least she has a much smaller Vartan going about carrying drinks on a tray.

Bassai flicks out his tongue, then carefully adds a few more spices to his meal. As he prepares to eat, he also organizes his plans for the day. The poodle is likely as settled as he'll ever get, and the restrictions on Nagai travel means some unexpected additional time in Rephidim.

A garter in a black suede vest slithers in the front door, and makes his way up to the stool right next to Bassai. "Hello, Sssir Bassssssai!"

The Archeologist lifts up his head, and turns to look at the garter. "Yes Assistant Undercoil, do you have news for me?"

A rather ancient Rath'ani totters through the front door… It's amazing that the old geezer is healthy enough to walk about, much less walk into a bustling inn like this one. Can he possibly want something to drink? The raccoon finds a table not far from the bard tuning up, and settles down to wait.

Undercoil hisses, "Yesss, but it isss not good newsss." He ducks his head. "There isss word from the Empire. The Emperor-Potentate isss mossst dissspleasssed at the latessst affront to hisss authority."

"This would be the Temple's unjustified port closure to Nagai, or something else?" Bassai asks.

The foppish fox, meanwhile, murmurs, "Ah, such lovely green eyes. But what rhymes with green? Mean? Obscene? Nonono … hmm … green as … grass? Brass, class, morass… No, not at all… Green as … PICKLES! That's it!"

The garter hisses, "That wasss insssult enough, but thisss isss worssse! Our dear Sssavanitesss have exssercssisssed their freedomsss too far. They have declared a nation for themssselves in Xenea, and have dared sssend an invitation to the Emperor-Potentate'sss represssentativesss to attend their leader'sss coronation!" He says this in a hushed whisper, but still a little too loudly to be totally secure in a place such as this.

This gets the Rath'ani's attention. He leans closer to the table at which the two Nagas sit. (or rather, coil)

Bassai looks longingly at his Yiffle. It seems as if lunch will not go uninterupted, and that his meal will probably be too exhausted to be interesting by the time he gets to it.

The yiffle makes a rude noise and a pathetic whimper.

"I see, has the Potentate forwarded any instructions to me on how he wishes this situation dealt with?" The Ringneck minister hisses, "In any event, this needs to be seen to quickly."

The garter continues, "The Sssavanitesss sssuppossssssedly have ssset up a cssity in the ruinsss of the Cssity of Handsss! The invitationsss were sssaturated with magical dweomersss. They mussst have sssome accomplicssesss."

The garter ducks his head, then says, "There are no ordersss, sssir. Only implicationsss. If you ssshould return to the palacsse with thisss matter ssstill an issssssue … you might find yourssself more than honored by the Emperor-Potentate'sss wrath!"

"Remarkable, truly remarkable," the Rath'ani whispers to himself. He takes out a small black-bound journal from his vest and begins writing.

The foppish fox, meanwhile, begins playing more loudly, and croons a tune…

The fox sings, "Oh my dear, to hold you near, to feel your chin-fur tickle,"

The yiffle's whimper earns the little creature a raised eyebrow and curious look from the Sphynx who's just come through the door. She's dressed in a Templar's robes, and she looks like she's trying to find someone.

"I see," Bassai flicks out his tongue again. He pauses a moment to consider the possible problems. "I have no intention of ignoring it, in fact I have some suspicions already. I need to gather a bit more information before acting… "

The fox continues, "But I fear, you think me queer; you think my bard's heart fickle!"

The fox croons, "Not so here! I am sincere; you are as sweet as butter brickle!"

The fox finishes, "I shed tears, for your velvet ears; your eyes as green as pickles!"

"… it would seem however, that the City of Hands has moved from being a personal curiosity to official business." The Minister of Savanite Affairs looks hopefully at his assistant, and reaches for his Yiffle. If he can just start to swallow it without an interuption, lunch can still be saved.

The garter's head droops. "With the Temple'sss actionsss, we have little hope of doing much of anything, sssir."

The door to the inn admits yet another potential customer. A white Rokuga, swathed in even whiter robes, and wearing a bowl-shaped hat fashioned from chitin, pours through the entrance, followed by a potent, acidic chemical odor. He lifts his head to peer our from beneath the brim of his hat, scanning the room.

Buran does not, however, look like she's enjoying the fop's performance. She grimaces slightly.

Bassai makes a hissing sigh and withdraws his hand from his plate as the witchdoctor enters.

The foppish fox, oblivious to various groans and grimaces, stands up and bows overly dramatically, sweeping his feather-plumed hat about. "Thank you! Thank you one and all! You are ALL so kind!"

The old Rath'ani winces at each rhyme. "Oh by the Procession," he mutters, and then continues, addressing Bassai and the garter, "Honorable sirs, I couldn't help but overhear your discussion. Is it true? Have Savanites really declared a sovereign state in the City of Hands?"

Ruby eyes meet the Minister's, and Qing begins flowing purposefully in Bassai's direction, a folder held beneath his lower left arm.

"Rumors and conjecture at the moment my good sir," Bassai hisses quickly. "Likely a simple misinterpretation of the appointment of a Savanite as local govenor. I'm awaiting the weekly news update from the Embassy, and it seems to have arrived." He looks with some relief at Qing.

The garter sucks in his tongue, looking away toward the wall … and then winces when his gaze falls upon one of the mounted heads. Not that a mounted head should bother him, but the head is distinctly reptilian…

The Witch Doctor stops by Bassai's table, and offers a short bow in lieu of the usual floor-flattening custom. (When in Rome… ) "Good day, Minister," he whispers. "I am glad to have finally found you."

Buran's keen eyes detect the Rath'ani in short order. Uncertain of whether he has yet claimed a table, and in consideration of the fact that he's currently occupied, she settles herself into an empty booth to wait.

"I'm sure official announcements will be issued soon, and clear the matter. I would wait to hear more if I were you, it could be embarrasing to spread incorrect news." The Ringneck cautions the elderly Rath'ani, then returns a bow to Qing. "Good Day, perhaps we should relocate to my room for a more private discussion."

The ancient Rath'ani bows. "Ah, please forgive this humble scholar. It's only that after such amazing stories as Titus Haut Mikide's journal of his exploits in the City of Hands, and the truly astonishing paper published by the archaeologist Bassai, it seems only too easy to believe that more wonders may yet transpire in this world." He lowers his eyes before the Naga.

The Rath'ani's ears perk however, as Bassai suggests that a Savanite might have been named as a governor to some principality of the Naga Empire. "Truly amazing," he murmurs as he returns to his seat, not quite noticing Buran yet. "A Savanite for a governor?"

"That will be unnecessary, Minister," murmurs Qing, proffering the folder. "My path has led me to this Serpent forsaken sky-island for several reasons. Taking it upon myself to deliver your secretary's notes was one of them, for I would add some small things to them. The other is seated at the table behind me."

Bassai nods, taking the folder. "I had noticed the technopriestess, she is just one of many things I am having difficulty getting to today."

The Rath'ani takes notes with concentration deeply engraved into his brows. "It seems almost a pity to leave Rephidim now, when so many interesting things are happening," he mutters to himself. "Ah well, perhaps when the ship passes through Safar and the Empire, there may be a chance to ask questions more directly."

Turning towards the Rath'ani, Bassai's posture is noticibly straighter after hearing his work described in such glowing terms. "My appologies, I have not properly introduced myself. I am Bassai, Archeologist of the Nijushiho Institute, and current Minister of Savanite Affairs of the Nagai Empire. Are you a scholar I may be familar with?" He bows.

The old Rath'ani looks up with surprise. "Bas – Bassai? Oh my! Well, I am only a humble old scholar, by the name of Aski Medes. If you have heard of me, I'm sure it is only due to a few small papers on the physiology of recent Exiles, or perhaps a travelogue of Lamu." He bows again. "Your discoveries have truly astonished all my colleagues in the academic community here, I can assure you of that, Archaeologist. Why, the idea that the First Ones's relics are no mere ruins, but still working mysteriously in our world is truly revolutionary!"

Qing bobs his head slightly, then pushes his dark glasses back up the bridge of his nose, so his eyes are obscured again. He takes a disdainful look at the yiffle on the Minister's plate before focusing his attention on Buran.

The yiffle snores loudly.

Buran had been about to make her way to Aski's table. A very soft sigh escapes her as the scholar's attention turns away once more. She resigns herself to a wait as she tries to flag down a server.

"The sight itself was astonishing, an experience worth several lifetimes. One I am in the process of commiting to less academic prose that may be more generally comprehensible. I am very pleased to hear of the favourable reception my serious work has recieved." The archeologist hisses with some pride, "I am also keenly interested in searching for more such relics, once my present duties are done."

Since there are no servers to speak of besides the young Vartan (who is tending to other customers), Buran's attempts go in vain.

Qing draws a small monocle from a pocket in his mantle, and lowers his glasses to peer at Buran through it, muttering largely incomprehensible things to himself.

Aski Medes beams. "A wonderful career and I wish you every success, Archaeologist," he says. "At my age, I'm afraid I haven't the stamina to go clambering about ruins the way that I did when I was young, but may I assure you that if there is any way in which I may help you, then you have but to ask, such is my admiration for your discovery. I shall look forward to reading your next book."

"I will be publishing one with full details of the expedition, the raw data, and one that is more adventurous. As soon as I get a little more time… " Bassai lets this sentence trail off, as he picks up his cup of tea. "Perhaps you would join me and my colleague. Are you familiar with the exile Envoy? I would like to hear your opinions on her."

The Sphynx sighs, settling in to wait. She doodles absently on a sheet of paper with one of her ever-present gray quill pens.

Aski Medes beams. "Of course, Archaeologist. I was just waiting for the Technopriestess, Buran, with whom I will be departing to Half Valley within the next day, but I am certain she'll join us shortly. Mm. Envoy." He frowns to himself, as he shuffles over to the Minister's table.

The Witch Doctor drapes some filmy material over the monocle, then squints to keep it in place, still mumbling. He takes a small stone attached to a string, and slithers next to Buran. Dropping the stone, he holds up the string, and marks a point on it at about the height of Buran's ears with a knot.

The Rath'ani pushes a chair over to the minister's table with difficulty, then collapses into it. "Ah, Envoy. Truly an alien to our world," he says. "Perhaps even an alien to herself."

"I am specifically concerned about the reliability of her statements, and her purported claim to be simply an observer of events." Bassai prompts the raccoon, giving a curious glance at the Rokuga's efforts. "Qing, perhaps you could do your examinations over here."

Buran looks up slowly from her drawing (which bears a surprising resemblance to the Intimidator) and looks at Qing. "Just… what … are you doing?" The string itself earns a dubious look.

"Mmm… yes, Minister," replies the pale Rokuga, a bit distractedly. He rolls up the string and stone, with his lower paws while the upper ones take what looks like a pair wooden pincers with slender tines. "I'm currently measuring your cranial capacity, Technopriestess."

"Assisstant Undercoil, could you determine if the exception to my travel restrictions has been granted? Ask at both the Temple and the docks." Bassai tells the garter.

Qing's middle set of paws begins scribbling something in a sheaf of parchment with a piece of soft charcoal.

Buran screws the cap back onto her ink-bottle to prevent accidental spillage. "Why?"

The Rath'ani frowns. "I am not sure that I can answer your question with lack of bias, Archaeologist. Yes, I do know her, and I accompanied her along with the merchant Demes Oresta and several of his crew to a trip to a Zelak hive… " He pauses here.

The garter looks up to Bassai and hisses, "No, sssir. Until the ban isss lifted, we are unable to leave. The Emperor-Potentate'sss lawyersss have more pressssssing concssernsss to deal with at the moment."

"Zelaks! I was not aware they permitted visitors." Bassai says, sipping his tea. "What did you observe?"

"There, she demonstrated an impressive ability to mimick sounds and learn quickly, but also an astonishing lack of concern, or lack of understanding of social mores, tactfulness, and caution," Aski continues, the emotions on his face recapturing the alarm with which those moments were filled. "Ah, Zelaks are very alien creatures, with their own rules, but they will trade if there is an advantage to it. It is simply very dangerous. Would you like a copy of my memoir on the subject, Archaeologist?"

The Rokuga holds the strange wooden pincers off to one side, and rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Because greater entities tend to choose larger-brained creatures to reside in." He removes the monacle to shake the filmy substance back into a pouch, glancing at the scholar and archeologist. "I hope there is recompense by the Temple for their unreasoning and unwarrented action. I am confined to a budget for travel purposes."

"Yes, I am quite fascinated by alternative cultures, I am sure I will find it informative." Bassai pauses a moment, looking at his assistant, and the scholar. The garter is used to waiting, so he continues to address the raccoon. "Some exiles have been known to, hmm… force their view of things, upon this world. In your experience with her, does she change her interpretation to fit the facts, or attempt to change the facts to fit her personal opinions?"

"I… see." The technopriestess doesn't sound convinced. "I assure you that I am quite content with the brain I have." She pauses. "You have experience with 'greater entities,' as you call them?"

"The temple may be generous Qing, that remains to be seen." The Ringneck Minister comments, then focuses back on Aski Medes with a fixed stare. A possibly unnerving look that is meant to show his interest in the scholar's reply.

Aski Medes says, "Mm. I shall try to locate a copy and give it to you as soon as possible, Archaeologist. As to your question, while she does not lie directly… " His face darkens, the mask seeming to become more solid black. "During a Temple auction later, she cost me the substance of my wealth, by bidding upon a friend of hers: while I bid twenty-one silvers, she claimed twenty… boxes of cookies, the latter of which she did not say as loudly as the number."

The Witch Doctor's lower left paw shakes a garishly painted rattle at Buran. He looks briefly mystified, and shakes it once more. Chk. Chkchkchk. Chk. "Hmm… " More notes go into the papers. "I have some experience, Technopriestess. Mostly in theory, though a few encounters have occured. Tell me, have you ever dabbled in the occult, or felt the urge to?"

The raccoon continues, "Perhaps the action was thoughtless, but it drives me to believe that Envoy is either careless of the consequences of her choices and actions, or else does not place truth and knowledge as sacred as we do." He sighs. "Ah, but I grow too old to carry grudges. It is more as an old sadness on my heart, Archaeologist. I can only hope she will learn better."

The rattle earns another dubious look from Buran. "No. Tell me, what are you trying to find out by measuring me?"

"She has been described to me as deeply conniving while feigning the appearance of innocence and naiviety. Your example would support that somewhat. Being thoughtless, or placing little value on the truth will reduce the value of anything I might ask her." The Ringneck Naga pauses to take a sip of tea.

Aski Medes says curiously, "If I may ask, has Envoy become involved in a project of yours, Archaeologist?"

"Indirectly," Bassai puts his cup down. "I was interested in some of Titus Haute Mikade's work at the City of Hands. Unfortunately, he was infirm during my last opportunity to speak to him, and now dead. This is also describes the condition of the mind mage in his employ. Envoy was implicated in Isstan's death… it's rather involved, and I haven't had the time to review the aftermath of that investigation." He pats the folder beside his plate of sleeping yiffle.

The white serpent's brow creases slightly in consternation as he puts the rattle away. "Little out of the ordinary here… " he murmurs to himself. Qing raises his weak voice a little, to just below a comfortable conversational level. "Your involvement with the rite of summoning concerning Isstan has left many holes in spirit teaching, Technopriestess. I am attempting to fill them for many purposes."

"The technopriestess you are planning to travel with also played a major part." Bassai glances over at Qing's continuing examination of Buran. "Quite surprising indeed, actually. I'm curious now why you are going to half valley, if you can share that information, of course."

Aski Medes looks impressed. "Goodness gracious, Archaeologist, but you have been quite busy lately. Well, I wish that I had done as much to further the horizons of knowledge, but so far it appears that I will simply be visiting an old friend in Half Valley soon, to discuss the problems a Technopriestess, Buran, has been observing." He pats his vest. "I have just secured some reasonably priced tickets, thanks to the efforts of another old friend of mine."

Aski Medes says, "Do you know her then?" He notices Bassai's glance to the other side of the tavern… then gasps. "Buran!"

"I only know her in the context of the ritual, I haven't had the opportunity form a social opinion." The Ringneck Naga answers, and senses an opportunity to reach for his yiffle.

The old Rath'ani totters to his feet and then waves to Buran. "Oh my! Please forgive me for missing you, Technopriestess. Do come and join us."

Bassai reaches for his lunch, lifting it up as he opens his mouth wide and prepares to swallow. He noses the yiffle with his snout, trying to rouse it into the bounds of palatability.

Buran perks her ears toward Qing; she doesn't seem to be having trouble hearing him. Or, for that matter, Aski Medes' startled shout. Politely, she excuses herself. "Oh! I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me for a while. The one I came to meet is here." She gestures toward the Rath'ani, then carefully rolls up her drawing and its associated supplies before making her way over to him.

The yiffle snorts and blinks its eyes sleepily … to be greeted with the vision of a gaping Naga mouth! "SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Qing looks up slightly at the calling of his subject's name, and looks resigned to ending his examination for now. "Technopriestess, I would speak to you later about this, if I may. For the greater good of magic learning, and… " He simply stops there, and turns around. "Minister, a word with you, if you please… "

Aski Medes takes Buran's hand and clasps them. "Please forgive me, I was so startled by the talks of Savanites in the City of Hand and then distracted by the good Archaeologist Bassai who has chosen to honor our city with his visit. A truly remarkable individual, who has inaugurated some astonishing discoveries." He gestures to the Naga who is engaged in the act of eating, then blinks at the squealing yiffle.

The Ringneck Naga is just about to place the squealing furry creature in his mouth when he hears the witchdoctor's call. Putting it down on his plate, he nods to Aski Medes, "Please don't disappear," as he slithers aside to listen to Qing.

Aski Medes says, "Of course not! Thank you for your time, Archaeologist, and we'll be right here, won't we, Technopriestess?" He takes the occasion to ensconce himself again in his seat with a grateful breath.

"You will have to fill me in quickly," Bassai hisses quietly in imperial to Qing. "What is the substance of the reports, and how did you get on Rephidim? It is becoming increasingly important I be able to leave it soon."

The yiffle squirms and squeals, its blue fuzzy tail thrashing about. However, the pseudo-porcine-vulpine fails to escape its bindings.

Buran smiles, taking a seat. "That's all right. I was not bored." The roll of paper, quill, and inkwell vanish back into her pockets. "Are you well today?"

"Oh, quite yes. Invigorated even, at having the opportunity to speak with Archaeologist Bassai," Aski says as he gestures toward the Naga who wandered off to speak with Qing. "But to the matter: thanks to the generosity of some of my old friends. I've been able to secure two tickets for us, on a liner which will be passing through Safar, then the Empire and Half Valley. He has even offered us room for a great deal of equipment. Which would be useful if we had any." The raccoon chuckles. "Alas, I fear my expedition days are over."

Buran exclaims, "That's wonderful! I hope your friends weren't too inconvenienced. They're too kind."

The Witch-Doctor replies in the Naga tongue. His lack of social refinement is overcome for a moment with a brief, nearly inaudible apology for interrupting the Minister's meal. "Entering Rephidim is not a problem, Minister. It is leaving Rephidim that presents the obstacle. I am bound here as thoroughly as you are, for the time being. As to the reports, Dean Malthus 'revealed' to us that the chiga was some sort of trap left on the ruins that had somehow attached itself to Isstan. The Technopriestess, and the Exile were supposedly 'keys' to triggering and neutralizing this trap, and that all was resolved."

Aski Medes says, "Ah well, they had some last minute cancellations." He looks a bit embarrassed. "It seems that since Nagai are being prohibited from leaving Rephidim, the reason for which I do not know, there were some merchants travelling home who will be forced to delay their departure."

"But come now, Buran, will you be able to secure vacation time?" the Rath'ani asks concernedly.

"This technopriest has been to the city of hands also? Does this explanation fit with your knowledge and experience?" Bassai asks, monitoring some of Buran and Aski's conversation, while trying to catch up with Qing.

The foppish fox muses, "I wonder what rhymes with 'serpent'?"

Buran tilts her head slightly, pondering this, but doesn't press the matter. "I've already done so. I merely need to say when I'm to leave Rephidim."

Qing's expression remains as flat as his voice. "Quite frankly, no, it does not fit. Much of it seems plausible in terms of magical mechanics, but it is too pat. There are parts being left out, I am sure, and the Dean is hiding something. My research in my personal library, and the library of the Institute, has found little of relevance. The Dean, despite promising me information on his investigation, has not contacted me since the incident."

"Descent, augment, repent, cement, ferment, and event." Bassai hisses automatically, without even glancing at the fox. "Perhaps some others."

"Why, thank you!" the fox says with a smile.

"I am not surprised. Was the Temple's representative of assistance in the questionning, or did he try to direct to areas he felt was relevant?" The Ringneck asks.

Aski Medes beams. "Ah, excellent. Will… Tomorrow be a good time?" He gives Buran one of the tickets, a square of parchment which has been neatly calligraphed to indicate a luxurious second-class quarter aboard the liner, the itinerary of which includes Safar as the first stop, then some locations in the Empire, and then Half Valley; thereafter, the cruise will go by Abu Dhabi, cross the Himaat, and… Himar has been crossed off and a new destination, 'Chronotopia' written in thereafter.

The foppish fox sings, "An ode to honorable Bassai:"

The fox croons, "A truly most serpentine guy!"

The fox continues, "From excavating cement,"

The fox sings, "To more dramatic events,"

The Rokuga shakes his head, his hat sliding on his head a little bit. "Not in the least. He was an Inquisitor, and given to paranoid specula-… " He stops to look at the fox strangely.

The fox finishes, "When you're with him, the time sure does fly!"

Assistant Undercoil applauds politely and quietly. "Bravo," he whispers.

Aski Medes puts his hand to his forehead as if experiencing a severe headache. "Ohhh, my ears," he murmurs to Buran.

The subject of the song directs his gaze to the singer, "Honourable effort, thank you. I am most pleased. Assisstant Undercoil, perhaps you can find a suitable reward for the bard."

The front door opens, admitting a feline in shiny white armor adorned with stylized roses and thorns. Jakka, the Vartan bartender, takes a break from polishing a glass to watch the Champion of Roses walk in, accompanied by a bookish-looking Savanite … then returns to polishing, since the Champion isn't likely to order a drink.

Buran taps a finger on the ticket thoughtfully. "Certainly. I'll take my leave tonight." She skims the itinerary. "How long will the journey – " Her questioning tone abruptly turns to one of despair. "Oh, no." She looks equally pained.

Undercoil slithers down from his stool and makes his way over toward the fireplace, tossing a coin into a wooden bowl located near the tip of the fox's tail, making a loud clatter.

"That yiffle will die of starvation before I get to eat it." Bassai hisses quietly to Qing, while waving for the Templar's attention. "Champion! I am glad you could attend."

"Your generosity is overwhelming!" beams the fox. "Tell me, what's your name?"

The assistant, stopping in mid-slither, responds, "Undercoil. Assssssissstant Undercoil." And then he hurries off before the fox can ask any more personal questions.

"It's not the voice, it's the notes," the Rath'ani whispers painfully. "One of his strings is off by just enough to be truly poisonous to my hearing." Once he has regained his composure, he says, "What were you saying, Buran?"

The Sphynx sighs ruefully. "I can do better. Perhaps I'll demonstrate on the way to see your friend. I was simply about to wonder how long the trip will take."

The fox muses, then begins playing a new melody.

The fox sings, "For the Nagai Empire, he toils;"

The fox still sings, "The Empire's enemies he foils;"

"Can you? Perhaps your talents will be quite welcome on board," Aski says. "The owner had offered me a bonus if I could find any with bardic talents… " He winces and claps his hands over his ears.

The fox keeps on going, "And though he is small,"

The fox doesn't give up, "He'll outdo them all,"

The fox finally finishes, "The inimitable Assistant Undercoil!"

The Templar in blue does likewise.

"The dining in Rephidim leaves something to be desired," hisses Qing, his distaste evident again. "I will conduct more of my research at the Collegia Esoterica, independant of Temple assistance. Perhaps unhindered, I will uncover something there. I will also keep an eye on the Priestess. I hope to conduct a more detailed examination soon."

The fox stops in the middle of the end of his song. "Bardic talents?" He then LEAPS up from the fireplace and bounds across the room. Amazing how selective hearing works! "You have found your FOX!"

"Ah? Ah… " Aski Medes looks at Buran for help.

The fox bows to Aski Medes. "I am a bard, fully accredited by the Bards' Guild! Have lute, will travel! Is food involved?"

"Qing, Buran and the Rath'ani scholar are leaving tomorrow for the Safar and ports beyond. He is allowed equipment, and has none. Possibly, I can supply him with some. I have a feeling the answer to your, and my questions will be in the City of Hands, and not here." Bassai whispers as he leans in close to the witchdoctor. The preservative odour nearly chokes his words. "Going to a prohibited zone, is of course, illegal and not in Rephidim's best interest. See if you can compound this with a way for us to leave the sky island while I take care of some business with the champion."

Buran lets her forehead hit the heel of one hand. Thunk. "I, er, don't think that's quite what Mr. Medes meant."

The aforementioned Champion stands at the bar. Even though her slave, the bookish Savanite, is taller than herself, by his stance, he somehow comes across as shorter at a casual glance.

"How not? Why, I can come up with songs at a moment's notice! Completely unique compositions that have never been heard before … and perhaps shan't ever be heard again!" the fox proclaims.

Aski Medes clutches Buran's hands a little tighter, not quite sure how to say no to the eager young fox. But neither can he face a voyage with the din of those dreadful strings in his ears every day or night… Or possibly both.

The fox prompts, "Okay … I'll show you! What's your name?"

Unmindful of his olfactory shroud, the Rokuga nods. "It shall be done, Minister."

The yiffle has stopped its squealing, panting from exhaustion.

The Ringneck Naga slithers over to the Champion and her slave. He bows as he draws near. This pause is also prompted by a momentary wish that Bash was here; Nerves steeled, Bassai closes the distance. "Greetings Champion, greetings Ibis."

The Champion bows silently in greeting to Bassai. Ibis does so as well, though with decidedly subservient body language.

"Come. I think you'd enjoy meeting my assistant, Quinn," Buran says to Aski. "I believe he goes on duty soon, so we must hurry."

The fox looks at Buran, then hopefully back at Aski Medes.

Aski Medes is still trying to think of a way to avoid answering the fox and becoming the subject of a composition, when Buran comes up with an excuse. "Ah, I'm very sorry, young Keiltyn, but I really must be going. Perhaps the Bard's Guild will have news of jobs. Good day," he says hurriedly.

The Rath'ani collects his walking stick and tries to totter faster after Buran.

His business finished, the Witch-Doctor makes ready to leave. He pauses, spying the yiffle. "Bah… no-one on this island can cook… " He looks around for a moment, and begins muttering. "Naz'alza drasss salmat daranai… "

The bard fox just lets out an audible *whine*.

Aski Medes winces at the whining noise. "First Ones, but the fellow may have a career ahead of him… In the Temple's Lance of Sound," he whispers hurriedly to Buran.

The yiffle lets out a positively blood-curdling shriek, and begins quaking, its eyes bugged out to the point of looking as if in danger of ejecting from their sockets! Every blue hair stands out on end!

Satisfied, Qing folds his arms beneath his mantle, and slithers for the door, nodding at Bassai on his way out. "Enjoy your meal, Minister."

Once outside, Buran breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank the First Ones. I'm glad I'm not the only one who is … irritated … by his singing. He means well, but … " She smiles. "My offer still stands."

"I wanted to thank you personally, for you assistance. I would not have been able to make the grand discoveries that I did without it." The Ringneck says, gesturing flamboyantly. The end motions of his wave turning into sign, "I also want to tell you about Thorn, and ask some questions. I doubt anyone else here knows sign, but it might be wise to relocate to my room."

"Thank you Witch Doctor, I will try to meet with you later." Bassai calls to the departing Rokuga, not noticing what has happened to his yiffle.

The Champion nods, and moves to follow Bassai, with her servant in tow.

The Ringneck Naga leads them to the privacy of his room.

"Indeed, Buran, and I confess, I suspect your voice would be much more preferable than that of the young fox," Aski Medes says pensively outside the inn. He looks about. "Now what is this about your apprentice, Quinn?… "

Buran chuckles. "If you'd still like to meet him, I can try to drag him out of whatever trouble he's gotten into. I did offer, even if it was just an excuse." She shudders at the thought of the Fop's singing as she and Aski walk down the street.

The Witch Doctor emerges from the Three Thieves Inn, making sure to push his hat and glasses back into place, and still wincing at the sunlight, mild as it may be to most. The Rokuga's head twists several different directions, until he spies the scholar and priestess, and hurriedly slithers after them.