In the Office of Review, behind a large, imposing desk, Miriam Nuttenboltschen sits. Her thick glasses rest in front of her gray-toned mask and piercing blue eyes. As she peers at the young mapmaker in front of her, one claw idly taps on a marble paperweight.
Sharp green eyes peek out from a mask of black fur; peering around critically from above a cheerful, mischievous smile. The young Rath'ani's clothing is most definitely more functional than decorative; the light, baggy, brown material defies any fashion statement thinkable, and possibly many that aren't! Various pouches (and a single small knife) hang on a belt at his waist, the contents occasionally clacking or crinkling. His hands are constantly in motion, occasionally picking at his tunic, scratching his muzzle, or fingering the pouches on his belt. His tail, unlike the 'normal' striped tail of most of the Rath'ani race, is instead blotched in elongated patches, as though the stripes didn't quite make it…
Trying his best not to flinch or fidget under the unnerving gaze of the older Rath'ani, Mircus waits politely for her to speak. . Patience has never been one of his strong points, and it's beginning to tell on him even after the short time he's been waiting…
"So," Miriam says in a voice that speaks of her century-plus age, "You are Mircus Shadrackel." She taps her claw again on the paperweight.
"Err, yes, Venerable Officer," Mircus manages to squeak. Being sent to the Office of the Review for an unknown reason does wonders for one's confidence.
Miriam glances down to a sheet of paper on her desk. "Hmmm. I see. You were very highly recommended, it'un… I hope you will be able to live up to this Office's expectations."
{Expectations?} the "it'un" almost blurts. "I, uh… I'll do my best Venerable Officer, but… err… " He swallows, "could I ask what it is I'm going to be doing?"
Miriam nods. "There is a group going to investigate Little Rephidim West. Some time ago, an incident occurred there, which rendered it unlivable. The Temple needs to restore the paquebot to usable status… " Miriam coughs a few times, and sips on some pala-fruit juice to ease her throat.
"And we have need of someone who can understand the maps. There are certain areas not widely known of, that will be necessary to travel through to fully repair the paquebot. We have the blueprints here," the old Rath'ani says, rustling a stack of papers.
Mircus glances down at the papers before dragging his eyes back towards the officer. "You mean you want me to go and help you with the maps?" he asks, awed. {Wow… }
Miriam smiles. "Not exactly, it'un. These old bones would never handle such a trip." And that's quite believable, as Miriam's somewhat withered frame shows the outlines of bones in some places. "You will be in charge of the blueprints for the duration of the voyage and exploration."
Mircus looks stunned, "In charge of the maps? But… " He then realizes just who he's talking to… "Yes, Venerable Officer."
"Do not worry, it'un.", Miriam says with a… slightly disturbing smile. "We have confidence in your abilities to perform these duties. You will be paid a reasonable amount for a student, with an additional bonus should your abilities exceed expectations."
The younger Rath'ani swallows. Hard. {I wonder if she knows she does this to people… } Summoning what confidence he can, Mircus manages (without much squeaking) to assure the Officer that he'll most definitely do his best… Wouldn't do to say otherwise to an Officer of the Temple…
Miriam dips her quill pen- a gold-plated Vartan tail-feather! -into an inkwell, and writes on a piece of paper. She says, somewhat offhandedly, "I understand your family is still in Ashdod."
Mircus tears his fascinated gaze away from the quill. "What? Oh, that… " The youth manages to droop and somehow look smaller in his chair, "After the war started, I don't guess they could get back. My mother was helping teach at the mage guild there, and… " He looks up hopefully, "You think they're ok?"
Miriam finishes her writing, folding the paper neatly in two. "I'm sure they will be, it'un, with brave ones like you helping the Temple out. Now here, take this paper to Reppi out in the hall, and he'll give you your equipment allotment." Sudden coughing shakes the Officer's frame for a moment, until she is able to down another drink of pala-fruit juice. "Ahem. And the ship will leave promptly in five day's time, from the… " She shuffles through a stack of papers. "Dock of Jethro, in the late evening."
Mircus nods politely and listens carefully as the elder Rath'ani gives him his instructions, starting slightly when she begins coughing. He takes the proffered sheet of paper cautiously, almost expecting it to bite. "Um, yes, Venerable Officer. ." He stands and moves towards the door, then stops, debating… "Um… you ok?" he asks cautiously.
Miriam nods, waving off Mircus lightly. "Don't worry about me, it'un. I'm in no hurry to join the Procession." She drinks some more of her juice, which seems to help. "Now go and pack, young whippersnapper, before I have to boot you out of my office." she says with a wink and a joking tone. At least, probably joking.
Mircus doesn't take the chance; after a quick "Yes, Venerable Officer," he's out the door to where 'Reppi' is waiting. Even as he's handing the paper over, he's already trying to guess what might happen and also what did happen to make this mission necessary. Could be interesting. Ooops… {Maybe even neat enough that the airship ride won't be all that bad… }
