The air carries the distinct odor of rotten fish this morning, intermingled by the scents of boxes of spices fresh from Abu Dhabi that arrived on the merchant ship Cat's Whisker.

Several Jupani and Vartans busy themselves unloading those boxes, most of them finding the smell of spices to be preferable to the smell of fish. Unfortunately, work's been rather sparse as of late as the trading season dies down. This particular shipment marks one of the last 'big' jobs the dock will see for awhile.

A Vartan with red feathers speckled with white secures a holding net around a set of crates. "I almost wish they'd pay me in spices. The smell of some of this is nice." He grins sideways at his helper, a peculiar winged Hekoye that's been seen at the docks doing work here and there.

The Hekoye fiddles with the net on the other side of the crates, and looks out from behind them to reply. "Nice perhaps, but you wouldn't want too much of this stuff," he offers, wrinkling his nose up a little. "Almost makes me wanna sneeze."

Lochinvar tugs on the rope a bit. "Well, 'stight enough this side. You done there?" he asks.

"Haw! You always had a better nose than the rest of us Vartans." The winged coyote's companion has worked with him long enough to know about his particular affinity with their race. "Almost done. So what do you plan to do when the work starts to run dry here?" He pulls on a section of the net and frowns, finding it to be a bit too loose.

Two Rephidim guards, escorting what looks to be a Technopriest, enter the docks. The priest motions to his guards and wanders off to speak with the Dockmaster. A lot of that has been going on lately.

Wandering around to the side of the crates, Lochinvar leans on them a little and rests his muzzle on a paw. "Oh, I dunno. It doesn't dry up completely here, but it's certainly harder to find work." He turns to look at his friend. "Maybe I'll find another airship to hire me on again and take me to another far off place for services rendered."

Lochinvar turns his head to look over the precipice of the dock, getting lost in a little bit of a reverie. "Ahhh, that's the beauty of far off lands. The sights, the sounds, the ladies, and shinies the like you've never seen before! Haw!"

"Keep this just between our wingtips but… " the red Vartan lowers his voice to a whisper, "Word has it that they're hiring people to go out even farther than that."

The coyote turns his head back to Lorne, his eyes widening. "How far?" he asks, not sure he heard right.

The Vartan stretches an arm upwards. "Up there, past the Procession – for folks that are brave enough to try it."

A horn sounds from the Cat's Whisker, signaling that it's unloaded all of the cargo it was carrying and that the ground crew will be moving it to haul it off soon.

Lochinvar scoffs at that. "Past the Procession? Bah! Where did you hear that? Down one of Locals? The Three Thieves perhaps?"

Lorne gives his end of the net a final tug and pulls himself to his hoofed feet. "Cross my heart for real!" He brings a taloned hand across his chest and lightly draws an 'X' against it. "They're interviewing people right now. Supposedly they've already sent folks to Morpheus. Feathers, I bet the ladies would really go for a fellow with shinies from another planet."

The Hekoye tilts his head a little, weighing that thought up. "Hmmm, you're probably right there," he notes, but then after a moment shakes his head. "But past the Procession? That's… hard to believe."

Shaking his feathers out, the Vartan gives the Hekoye a push towards the Dockmaster's office. "Go and talk to Hragh and his friends if you don't believe me. I bet they're looking for hopefuls right now."

Lochinvar chuckles a little, giving a little at being pushed. "Did I say I didn't believe you? I said it was hard to believe!" he says, holding up his hands in mock-submission. "However, I'll go along and ask 'em questions about it alright – see the lie of the land and what-have-you."

"But first," he adds, "what about the rest of this cargo? If this is the last shipment here for a while, I'm not gonna forfeit any of my pay just for asking questions!"

The Vartan flicks an ear. "I heard the ship honk out last call. Unless a new one comes in out of the blue, this is it. It's all up to the doggies to pull everything to market now." The Vartan refers to the Jupani who handle the broken-down carts that carry the shipments to the Bazaar or to other ships. This term tends to be used in hushed tones around Hragh though, since the Dockmaster happens to be a Jupani himself.

The coyote nods, chuckling a little. "Okay, okay… Hragh knows about it, you say?" he asks, casting a glance at the Dockmaster's office.

On the fringes of the docks, the 'doggies' can be heard making a rather noisy racket with loading. Their carts seem equally as noisy.

Hragh is currently standing outside the tarpaper shack that serves as his 'offices'. The two guards and Technopriest are leaving.

"Yep. Although you have to get interviewed by the Temple. Most of us… er… don't want to have any dealings with the Temple particularly." The Vartan drops his head a little. It's not uncommon for workers to have some kind of criminalrecord, and in this kind of work most people are willing to overlook it for some cheap muscle. The Temple is a far different matter, though.

Lochinvar merely nods in response to the comment about the Temple. His nose is clean (metaphorically speaking) but he's learned that a clean record around this line of work isn't anything to brag about. "I'll be careful about what I mention, then," he replies instead, glancing over to the office again. "Talking of which, the local Temple presence seems to have decided to be elsewhere now – perhaps now's a good time to approach Hragh about it."

"Good luck! Bring me a piece of the Procession if you make it." Lorne winks and then leaps up, flying off to escort the carriages and hopefully find work in the Bazaar.

The pepper-gray Jupani Dockmaster has opted to play 'supervisor' for now, watching the goings-on with a detached expression. His pipe seems to interest him a bit more than the workers.

"Thanks!" Lochinvar calls back, then starts walking over to the shack. "A piece of the Procession, eh? Heh," he mutters to himself on the way.

Several other workers are departing as well. Looks likethis cargo ship was the last one for the day.

"Ahoy there, Mr. Dockmaster-sir!" the Hekoye calls out, grinning a little as he approaches the Jupani.

The grizzled wolf blows a smoke ring from his pipe and smirks at the new arrival. "Mornin' Locks. I ain't gonna have any pay until the end of the week, although there may not be any more ships in until next week. You know I can't do advances." Apparently he's been asked this question quite a bit lately, as folks are scrambling to get the bills paid.

"Yeah, yeah… I know the drill. S'not the first time thishas happened after all." Lochinvar grins back in response. "And I can scrimp by until then. Besides, rumor mill has it that there's a few other jobs in the offing. Know anything of them?"

Hragh swats at a bug zipping around his face. "Ain't no work in the docks if that's what you mean, and the rest of Rephidim ain't my problem." He puffs another jet of smoke from his nostrils. "Unless you're interested in the work the robes were pushing."

Lochinvar shrugs a little. "Depends what they were pushing, I suppose. You can give me an idea?"

"I don't believe a word of this Creen flutter, just so you know!" The wolf shakes his pipe at the Hekoye, causing a few embers to spill out and hiss against the puddles of last night's rains. "But supposedly they're looking for people to help map some new discovered lands through a gateway in the Forbidden Zone in the Himaat. Although the last fellow I sent 'em never came back… rrrrrgh, not that Glot was a bright fellow. He'd probably get lost in his own house."

If memory serves, Glot was a Titanian who had come to Rephidim to seek his fortune. Most people were nice to him, but that might have had something to do with the fact that he was strong enough to rip the arms off a Vartan if he tried.

"Glot? Hrm… yeah, I remember him." The Hekoye nods. "Nice enough, but not that at home on 'ships. Anyhow, I'm just trying to find out more stuff about this 'job'. It does sound interesting – on some level at least."

"Just a sec; the robes left me with some papers to hand out to anyone interested." The wolf snuffs his pipe and vanishes into his shack. The sounds of growling and collapsing stacks of papers echo from inside.

Overhead, a flock of rainbow-colored Creens circle the docks, looking for any dropped foodstuffs that might be lying around.

Lochinvar follows Hragh towards the office, deciding to wait just outside for the moment.

Hragh pops out again a few minutes later; some bits of shredded paper poke out from his head-fur. He hands Lochinvar a rolled up parchment. "Here. But it ain't gonna fall on my head if you don't come back."

The coyote takes the parchment and taps it against his hands. "Thanks, Hragh. Though I've not said I'm gonna do it yet, but you know me: haven't I always come back?" he says, grinning.

Smirking, the Dockmaster stuffs another was of tobacco into his pipe. "That you have, lad. One thing – try and bring Glot back to us if you do decide to go. I miss the fellow a little."

Lochinvar nods a little, wrinkling his nose a little at the stench of the tobacco. "I'm not making any promises, but if I do go, I'll try."

"Good luck, Locks. If you don't decide to take it, I'll try and scrounge up some work for you here, but things aren't looking very good at the moment. I think the Creens will be eating better than me for awhile." The wolf seats himself again and resumes 'supervising'.

The Hekoye nods after the Jupani, then looks down at the parchment he was given. Leaning against the wall of the shack, he uncurls it and reads through it.

Most of it sounds almost like a Temple enlistment program: "See far-away lands and experience great adventure" and all that. Still, it does sound sincere. Apparently the Temple is looking for men with navigation skills, language skills, and some fighting ability to help the Temple chart out 'distant lands'. There's a contact name listed: Inquisitor Tobit.

Lochinvar mm-hmms, reading it. Certainly, he feels like he's qualified enough for this job, but the paper is still basically propaganda at this point. However, he does feel it warrants a visit to this Tobit.

A quick flight to the Temple, some explaining to the guards, and a few bits of questioning and name-taking later, the winged Hekoye finds himself sitting in an office that is riddled with maps and globes. Lands that he's only heard of in his dreams are seen in paintings and tapestries on the walls, while globes and charts show Sinai in amazing detail.

Lochinvar's 'host' has yet to show up, although he's been left with a cup of tea and some biscuits to keep him busy until then.

While the winged coyote waits, he looks around the office. A few places he can pick out are familiar to him, but certainly there is a lot more to his world, he realizes, that is left to see. He nibbles on a biscuit a bit, but doesn't touch the tea that much.

Finally the door opens and what looks like a squire or a child steps in. No wait… it's a Skeek Inquisitor. Barely three feet tall, the mouse bows to Lochinvar and clambers up to the desk, setting a box on the table in front of him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Lochinvar. I am Inquisitor Tobit." He places his tiny hands on the lid of the box.

"Inquisitor," the Hekoye acknowledges with a nod. "If I may, it's just Lochinvar. The 'sir' is not necessary, or really desired."

The mouse's whiskers twitch a bit as he considers that. "Lochinvar then. My apologies if I made you feel uncomfortable; I simply prefer to address people with the proper respects." He nods his head again. "Do you know why you are here?"

"I had hoped it was to find out more information regarding this offer," Lochinvar replies, holding up the parchment given to him by Hragh.

Inquisitor Tobit squints at the paper and places some chitin spectacles across his nose. "Ah, yes. We've not gotten much call… although we've tried to be subtle." He folds his hands across his chest. "To put it bluntly, we are looking for people to help us map the planets we've recently discovered. We have Abaddon and Morpheus mapped now, and expeditions working on Ashtoreth as we speak. Still there are many planets and we need experienced hands to help with them."

"Excuse me?" the Hekoye asks. "Did you say planets? I was led to believe this was to do with mapping Forbidden Zones?"

"The entrance is through the Himaatian Forbidden Zone and only works once per day." The mouse raps the top of his box with a finger. "If you are willing to work hard, you will be well reimbursed. We will also supply any items you may need for travel."

Lochinvar glances at the box, then back to the Inquisitor. "This entrance … It's once per day 'in' – How about coming back again? And where does it actually go?" he asks.

"The same with the exit. Reports have told me that after approximately twenty-four hours one is able to pass through the gateway again and return home. As I have spoken with people who have done so, I assure you that the gate is not the danger." The Inquisitor points to a map spread across his desk showing a map of the Himaat. "A tower was recently discovered in the middle of the Forbidden Zone, that holds gateways leading to the other planets here. So far they all are habitable although gravity might be stronger or weaker in some places. There is a gateway to the sun as well, but we think it would be safer to leave that particular area unexplored."

The coyote smiles in agreement at that statement. "Probably for the best."

Lochinvar thinks over what he's been told. Certainly nothing obviously looks amiss, and certainly for an area to be successfully mapped, the crew doing the mapping would have to return.

However, Lochinvar is reminded of Glot. "I've heard of a few people that went on these expeditions, but haven't returned. Might there be an explanation for this? It's certainly something that would make anyone hesitant to sign up… "

The mouse's nose stops twitching, "That is true. We've yet to come across any actively hostile entities on the planets, but there are quite a few distractions. Sadly, some of our hired help chose to strike out on their own. Planets are big, and it is easy to become lost if one isn't careful."

"By strike out… what do you mean?" Lochinvar asks. "Are you saying that they left willingly from their groups?"

"That is correct," Inquisitor Tobit nods. "Why, I cannot say, although I would suspect that they were glory-seekers, or hoped to find more monetary gain from the planets they explored."

Lochinvar nods softly at that. Well, that'd sum up Glot alright. It's the type of thing he came he to do anyway, he muses.

"Do you have any further questions?" The mouse tilts his head sideways.

The Hekoye shakes his head. "I think that's answered all I needed at this point, thank you."

Inquisitor Tobit smiles. "Well then… Are you interested? The Dockmaster was kind enough to forward your credentials to me."

"Was he now?" Lochinvar asks. How thoughtful of him. "Maybe I'll think on this a little, but I am interested, yes."

"We are sending the next expedition out in approximately six days. This particular group will be going to Arcadia, the planet of life." The Inquisitor opens the box, revealing what might at first be mistaken for a child's brightly colored rubber ball toy, except this one seems to have a ring around it as well. "The last expedition there was somewhat unsuccessful. We are hoping that someone with better diplomatic skills might serve there better, although if you wish to travel to another planet, it can be arranged. We still need people to help with mapping Morpheus, if you think you would serve better there."

"If I might ask one more question? Which expedition was Glot attached to?" Lochinvar asks.

The mouse's nose stops twitching again. "He was assigned to help explore Arcadia. I believe he went off on his own when the original expedition was trying to make contact with the native sentients there."

"Arcadia… " the coyote repeats, rolling the name around a little, then hmms. "How was that mission unsuccessful?" he asks.

"Glot carried most of the expedition's equipment and supplies. When he left, the remaining members had to return or face braving the planet with nothing but the clothing on their backs and a few tools." Inquisitor Tobit closes the box with the planet model in it.

Lochinvar asks, "He took all their supplies? Ah… Is he anything to do why you need diplomacy on this next expedition?"

The Skeek tugs at the hood obscuring most of his face. "We are not sure – although we do not wish to make any enemies on this mission, therefore diplomacy seems to be the best thing to arm our explorers with. The native species seem relatively calm and nonviolent, but we do not wish to give them any reason to change that."

The Hekoye nods. "That seems reasonable enough. Well, I will still need time to think about this, but you will have my answer in a couple of days."

"I look forward to hearing from you, Lochinvar." The mouse hops down from his chair and tucks the box under his arm.

Lochinvar stands and smiles in return. "Thank you, Inquisitor Tobit. You've told me a lot of interesting things tonight – in more ways than one. As I say, you'll have my decision shortly." With that, the winged coyote turns and heads for the door.