The first building Qing comes across as he enters the village of Stonebarrow is conveniently the town's only Inn as well, as the sign hanging over the door of the 'Frog and Peach' proclaims. Inside, he only causes the Lapi barmaid to faint. The innkeeper turns out to be an older, rounder Skeek with a surprisingly booming voice, who welcomes the Mage and fusses over him before showing him outside and around back to Super Deluxe Adventure Cabin #3, which is at the very least a 'cabin' if not actually super or deluxe.

"I'll send someone to get you something to eat as well, Mage Qing," the helpful Mr. Streusel promises before bowing and backing away, leaving the Rokuga alone in his cabin. The 'deluxe' part means it has a separate sleeping room and main room, and 'super' seems to deal with there being a water pump right outside the door.

The witchdoctor, for his part, simply nods at each thing the innkeeper says, and though he briefly inspects the pump and rooms, he seems more or less indifferent to the accommodations. First and foremost, Qing checks the door for a lock, and listens for a few moments to the sounds around him. A piece of crystal in one hand, with a bit of cobweb draped over it, patiently waits to be used for a cursory inspection for loose imps, poltergeists, pixies, goblins, and other nuisances.

Nuisances are something Miranda really hoped to avoid, which is why she prefers working at the bunny ranch more than dealing with other issues. It doesn't always work out though – especially when an out-of-breath coney knocks on the gate, and wheezes, "Bunnies! Wizard… cabin 3… basket of bunnies!"

The gray Lapi flicks her ears in a confused manner at the coney's sudden breathless explanation and, after urging the other Lapi over to a grassy spot to sit finds one of the wicker baskets used for transporting the live rabbits. In a few minutes Miranda has about 4 or 5 of the Sylvanian bunnies from one of the hutches in the large basket.

With the now bunny laden basket in tow Miranda leaves the tired messenger to catch her breath and heads off in the direction of the aforementioned cabin #3.

"I'll handle that, Miranda," a familiar voice says as Miranda passes a corner. Stepping out, the femme squirrel Morgan smiles at the Lapi. "You're busy, and I should say 'hi' to our guest."

Blinking at the voice nearby Miranda turns slightly to regard Morgan with a small smile. "Oh! Hello Morgan. I think I can manage thith and then get back to tha hutcheth," the Lapi says, hefting the basket under her arm which results in some minor scuffling noises. "Cabin three right? We can walk together then… ith a withard really vithiting?"

"We'll see, won't we?" Morgan flashes another smile, then moves to walk with Miranda. "Let's get going, then. We don't want to keep our guest waiting."

After a short walk, Miranda and Morgan arrive at the 'Frog and Peach' and go around back to the cabins. The big tiger bodyguard of Lady Inaya isn't present, and the swamp seems to have a slightly sharp, chemical undertone to its normal stench – maybe something got spilled at the tannery. Finally they arrive at the nondescript cabin with the big '3' painted on the door.

After arriving, Morgan steps back and folds his hands in front of himself. "Well," he says, sniffing at the air with a hint of a wince, "this is it. I'll just let you turn over the food, Miranda, and then I'll see to the usual town welcoming for Mages."

Miranda nods to Morgan, and noticing his wince smiles in a sympathetic manner before going to knock on the cabin door.

For a few moments, there's nothing to indicate the knock was heard… but while no voice answers, soon enough there's a rustling behind it, and eventually the sound of bolt and latch being drawn. The door swings open with a creak, and that biting smell of pyres and acid becomes stronger. A black symbol on white field greets Miranda… no wait, it's a sigil on a tabard. Its wearer's head holds at perhaps two feet above the Lapi and Kadie's own, a wedge of ivory with ruby eyes shaded by a lacquered bowl-like hat. A trio of bluish wisps trail and flutter around the crown, and as the Naga bends to incline his head downward, pair after pair after pair of long and boney arms unfold from beneath his mantle to support him against the doorway. "What is it?"

His voice is a dry whisper with an odd hissing undertone, as if he were speaking from inside a leaking boiler.

The Kadie raises his brow upon smelling, seeing, and hearing Qing. The brow goes up in levels, in reaction to every sensory surprise. He does not, however, miss a beat on his greeting. "Why, just Miranda and Morgan, here with your meal and a friendly town greeting," he says in a deep, varied tone, with a hint of huskiness about it. He reaches to pat Miranda's shoulder, nudging her forward.

The Lapi just stares up at the Naga for a minute, ears lowering down by the sides of her head in shock… It's a wonder it is possible for eyes to get that wide… Fortunately though she doesn't faint. Miranda can't seem to come up with a verbal response, so instead reaches slowly into her basket, without looking away and pulls out a bunny – surprisingly similar to herself in its gray coloration – which immediately begins to squirm as it spots (and smells) the mage. She holds it out to the Naga almost like a peace offering for inspection.

Qing glances first at the Kadie, then the Lapi maiden and the basket she's holding, dipping his head down further on that long, flexible neck of his to flick his tongue at the squirming rabbit. If the greeting isn't entirely expected, he makes no indication, and simply nods once. "Good. Bring them in," he murmurs, and his upper half is carried away on pallid coils with the strangely detached look of a hand puppet being moved off-stage. He makes room for the pair to enter, where some bundles have already been unpacked, some of the cabin's spartan tables and useless (for the mage) chairs already laden with heavy books, charts, different colors of chalk, and other less easily recognized tools.

Morgan smiles at the invitation, nodding his head. He glances at Miranda and asks, "Would you like me to carry those in, Miranda? I can't recall if you're busy today, and I don't want to burden you."

Miranda replaces the bunny in the basket with the others and makes sure the lid is secure so that they can not escape before looking over at the Kadie and a little shakily handing him the basket. "Ah… okay Morgan… I thould get back to watching tha hutcheth… " Noticing the colored chalks strewn across part of the table and unable to think of anything else to say, she notes to the Naga mage, "Um… if you need more chalk we have lotth here. Thometimeth we get black chalk too, but it'th harder to find." The Lapi speaks quite politely, but with an odd lisp.

"Ah. Then I expect you are who I will be seeing for meals. Very well, then." The Rokuga absently reaches out with his lowest set of arms to try taking hold of the Lapi's hand, a wire-rimmed coin being pressed to it. His hands feel much like they look… hard and cold. "I expect this will be a start. Yes, chalk. Since you evidently know where supplies may be found, I may have later need of you. I expect I will visit in short order with my requirements."

After accepting the basket, Morgan carries it forward with both hands. In his black-and-purple dress, all he'd need is a hood to look like the protagonist of some children's fairy tale. "I hope the town hasn't been a bother for you; we get few mages, you see." He carries the basket inside and places it on an unused portion of the table, using a hand to help keep the now agitated bunnies from leaping out. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

Miranda freezes as the scaly mage takes hold of her hand before staring wide-eyed now at the coin resting in her palm, "Ah… thank you very much Thir… Morgan can tell you where to find me. Any of the other Chalk Lapi can help you with getting… well, chalk, when you need it," the Lapi says quietly as she backs up a couple of steps before turning and making her exit. It is rather obvious she is trying to maintain a degree of politeness and not simply scamper off… and for the most part manages a good job of it.

The witchdoctor folds his arms again, nudging the door closed behind the retreating Miranda with whatever part of himself is still lying near it. He studies Morgan again with those hard, crimson eyes of his, the ridges above them creasing as he tries to determine what to make of this curiously garbed visitor. Not dressed like a peasant… "Do you have further business with Zhu Ye Qing? I am here to see an Olivia Weaver, and otherwise am not to be bothered."

"That's up to you. I am, after all, part of the welcoming committee – and I can help you. Tools, navigation, food … " the Kadie taps the lid of the basket, " … and the like. Why, we don't get very many high-profile visitors, it would be rude not to come." The man smiles in a friendly fashion, head tilting. "Zhu Ye Qing … Well, I am Morgan. Morgan Nightshade. A pleasure to meet you, by the way."

Qing lets his shoulders back, lifting his head back up again, some of that suspicious look easing. "Ah, then you've been assigned as an assistant. Very well then." There's no sign of warmth or friendliness in return, but at least there's no frost either, and a certain formality seems to establish itself. "Witchdoctor Zhu Ye Qing, Imperial Mortician, formerly of the Higher Institute of Sorcery and the Supernatural, senior instructor of Spirit, Caroban. You may address me as Mage Qing or Master Qing." That aside, he tilts his head, examining Morgan with a certain renewed, if slightly peevish, interest. "I was expecting to be consulted on selection of an assistant, but I understand things are done differently here. Not without some efficiency, I grudgingly admit. What qualifications do you bring?"

Morgan smiles slightly more at the mention of assistant, and he nods to the remark a second later. "Yes, I can assist you," he confirms, never breaking his friendly tone. "As for consultation, well, we are a small town. You won't find the array of resources here that you might in, say Justininople. We're humble folk, but we mean to be polite." Glancing back, Morgan scootches over until he can seat himself in a nearby, mostly unoccupied, chair. He folds his hands in his lap and leans forward. "I know just about everyone here, and their specialties. I know this town as I know my own hand. I have an education in herbary, and I am a healer and midwife. Beyond that, I am one of the town leaders-in-training."

The mage seems to rediscover the crystal lens he was holding in one hand, and brings it to his eye again. It's readily apparent the Kadie is the more mannerly of the two as Qing peers at him through the webbed crystal, the lens distorting and magnifying the red eye behind it grotesquely. "You have a working knowledge of anatomy, then? Excellent. I didn't expect to find much expertise in this backwater. I will require your contract detailing your wage demands and services by morning."

"I'll see to that, then," Morgan agrees. He leans forward slightly more, peering back at the mage through his own lens. "Some sort of magic, mayhaps? Is it the custom of the Imperial people to use such devices on people they come across?" The Kadie's tail flicks, quirking and curling so that it vaguely resembles a question mark.

"It is my custom, and it is harmless." The witchdoctor sounds as though he's reciting something almost by rote. "Those that I work with must not be carrying spiritual parasites, curses, or other anomalies that may disrupt my work. I will use a spell that will not effect you in any way, it will allow me to see the presence of spirit magics and entities." His muttering trails off into something incomprehensible, something with a rhythm and cadence.

"You will find I have a most colorful aura – or so I am told," the Kadie remarks as he leans back. Feigning a lack of concern, he glances over at the bucket and wiggles his fingers at one of the bunnies which, in turn, wiggles its nose back at him.

The aura is indeed colorful, with purple being the dominant color. It bulges at the sides, like furled wings, and there's even a serpentine hint to the underlying structure of it all.

Qing sits up in his coils a little straighter. Now this wasn't expected from the chore of screening his assistant, and some of that impatient, put-upon demeanor the mage was wearing falls away. "Hm. Colorful and… unusual." He tilts his head curiously, holding the lens away from his eye for a moment. "You are aware of it?"

"At a point in my past, I crossed paths with a traveling Mage – much as you are traveling. She did much as you did, and that is what she said," Morgan answers. He looks back from the basket, letting his smile fade slightly. "Does it concern you, Mage Qing? I'm not aware of it being a dangerous oddity. Oddities, you see, are not uncommon here. The spirits are often playful."

Qing waggles a hand. "Pah. I've faced the agents of Amenlichtli, banished chigai, and seen all manner of slavering demon and capricious haunt. I see nothing to fear in your aura, it is a part of you, not an infestation or mark." He thumbs the edge of his lens thoughtfully. "It is unusual, certainly. Did she describe it to you?"

"She told me that it was colorful, and something about wings. Very mysterious, is it not?" Morgan taps his chin, lips pursed a moment. "I've thought on it myself, but I don't have the knowledge to make a great deal of sense of it."

The pale serpent bobs his head slowly. "It is. Violet in color, and yes, one could say it resembles wings, though it could be interpreted as many things, I'm sure. Most are faint, not really reminiscent of anything; yours is distinct."

Morgan smiles a little more, resuming his friendly expression. "It is interesting, isn't it? Now, I haven't the education of an esteemed mage, such as yourself, so I can only wonder at what you'd make of such a thing." His tail flicks out of its impression of its impression of a question mark, shifting to lay in Morgan's lap.

"It would require more specialized rituals to determine," murmurs Qing, appraising his new assistant with a critical eye. "It could mean any number of things. An affinity, for one thing. Do you deal much with the gypsies?"

"I've been known to work with the gypsies, certainly. I am quite fond of some of them. They are more colorful than I, by far." The Kadie laughs softly at his own joke.

Qing pockets his lens finally, and glides to a table with some of his bundles still unpacked, where he begins setting to work. "They are, in some ways. Madame Natasha, herself a practitioner of the arts, has a very powerful aura, I would imagine."

"She does strike me as a powerful woman, if not exactly how you say, Mage Qing," Morgan agrees. Invitingly, he pushes the basket towards the mage a little, as if indicating he should eat. "Did Madame Natasha say much about her … art, you say?"

Qing glances over at the basket, setting aside an animal skull with socketed teeth. The eyes are sealed with glass, allowing one to see different colors of sand inside. He lifts the lid off the basket to look down into it, reminded that he hasn't eaten since the trip began. "She did not have to, though we spoke of it some. We talked as peers, but when Madame Natasha first approached me, it was easy enough to sense, even before I saw her.

"So you can sense these things?" Morgan tilts his head, curious. "Oh, and don't mind me, if you want to eat – I've already eaten." Inside the basket rabbits peer up at Qing, bodies huddled down, ears flat and back. "We raise the bunnies here; Miranda is their caretaker."

The Rokuga weighs his hunger against the pause in conversation swallowing one of the meals offered him would mean. "The fare here is as unusual as the area. I don't think I've supped on these before. I shall partake, in due time." He remembers the question he was posed, looking up again. "I can sense the tug and flow of spirit magic, and that is what I recognized on her. If she chose not to work any, or chose to hide it, it would not be so readily noticeable. One's affinity is a matter of attunement, will, and discipline, not necessarily a saturation."

Morgan nods slowly with an air of interest, filing the mage's words away in his mind. "That is fascinating," he comments when the Qing has finished. "So, then, magic is like … the stain and scent of the tanner? Knowledge a tanner may have, tucked away in his soul, but if he choses not to use it … who would know? Now, drenched in his chemicals, armed with his tools, it is obvious to those who know his trade. And, yet, the degree of his skill may only be obvious to a master … Fascinating."

"An apt enough analogy, Nightshade." Qing cups his chin thoughtfully. "Though it is more complex than that. The thing we know of and call magic does indeed 'stain' all things, permeating them. By itself, it is simply a force. The raw ability to perceive it and manipulate it could be seen as the tool. It can be brandished or just as easily put away. The knowledge to use it is the difference creating a work of art and cutting oneself with one's chisel." He turns away again, folding his hands behind his back. "I'm sure you're aware of the history of the region. There are people where who might have a distaste for me, because the mageocracy was concerned with people who could misuse this tool."

"Ah, the history of our poor country. Is that not why you've come? For the necromancer? A good example of a madman with a chisel, cutting both himself and others, in his pursuit of a demented vision … " Morgan clucks his tongue, shaking his head. "As for having distaste for those who would abuse magic, is that not the desire of all right-thinking people? And you say 'was,' is that no longer true? To you have distaste for such people, Mage Qing?"

Qing takes a deep breath, letting it out through his nostrils. It's a few moments before he responds, laying his hands on the table and simply pausing and looking at the basket near him. When he finally speaks, it's slow and measured. "Yes, I suppose it is. I should have said that the distaste was because it was for the Collegia to determine and enforce the standards by which misuse was judged and dealt with." He gazes at the young Kadie again, his stare even and searching. "Now, it is Caroban that remains and arbitrates. I'm sure you can tell me better than I could tell you… it's obvious you and your people know of the spirits around here. You spoke about them, talked about how they could be playful. Tell me, are there people that still toy with them here? Deal with them? Talk to them?"

"Now," Morgan says, shaking a finger at the mage, " … such a thing would be forbidden by Caroban." The Kadie matches the mage's gaze, although in his lace-trimmed dressed, with his hands crossed in his lap, he looks more proper than pressing. "Spirits do as they will, if you speak to them are not. The dead still walk here, from time to time, but the land has its own spirits. It is good to respect your neighbors, whomever they be – don't you think, Mage Qing?"

The witchdoctor flicks his forked tongue, crossing his upper set of arms. "Don't be coy with me, boy. That doesn't answer my question." The ridges over his eyes ease slightly. "Though if you're worried that I'm some enforcer here to burn witches, let's put that to rest right now. I'm here to see to that bounty and investigate any possibilities of lingering threat. Even if I weren't, Caroban's policy isn't what it was."

Morgan frowns at 'boy,' but his tone doesn't change. "Well, that's good to know. I'm sure those who practice such things around here will be relieved to hear it," he says. Pushing himself to standing Morgan brushes down his skirts and adds, "I'm glad you've such a neighborly view; Sylvania is a diverse country, and it pays to be understanding. I'll see what I can do to help you, and I'll write up the contract you requested." He looks up from his dress-arranging, and smiles again. "Maybe we can speak more, of spirits and other things."

If Qing notices the reaction, he doesn't pay it mind, simply nodding. "Neighborly… more a matter of practicality. But yes, we can speak of this later, and spirits if you wish. You offer tolerable questions and not the usual barrage of idiotic superstitious claptrap, and that works to your favor." That might be the closest this stranger comes to a compliment.

"Tolerable questions and non-idiotic claptrap – I'll take that as a compliment." Morgan claps his hands together, and grins. "Well! I'd best be going, then. If you need me, most around here know who I am and where to find me, if I can be found. It was good to meet you, Mage Qing." After walking to the door, Morgan pauses, adding, "Oh, a word of advice: mind the otters. All of the otters. And, if you meet a young man that suggests you are 'invading' or 'plotting' or what-have-you, mind him too."

Qing frowns darkly. "I have little patience for fools. Customs or no, they had best mind themselves. Close the door behind you, Nightshade. I shall see you at sun-up, and on time."

"Indeed you shall. Good night, Mage Qing." Morgan slips out the door, closing it behind himself. As he walks home, he muses, "Gruff, tradition-bound, cold, and authoritative. Ah, rather like my 'aunts' actually. This should be interesting."