Snow struggles to follow the thread that the old dwarf was weaving, and could see he was tiring.

"I am happy for you to simply call me Snow", he says with a gentle smile. "And no, it is not the Old Mystics that I seek, although they play a part in my search. It is something from my own history that drives me to the Vale. I am looking for my father, who disappeared many years ago. It was he who had an obsession with them, the Mystics".

"I am hopeful that I am following a path he once trod, or at least a path that intersects with his", he shakes his head, a confused look on his face. "In truth I don't understand it myself, but I know there is something in the Vale, something hidden, something relevant".

He goes silent for a moment before adding, "The more we speak, the more I believe that our paths crossing was not random chance. I believe we can advance each others goals here, and until my path becomes clearer, I will follow yours".

"You mentioned before that you have to be careful in sharing details of your goal. What opposition exactly are you facing? I would prefer to know what I have just signed up to".

Greybeard looks at his hands for a long moment. “Seeking your father in the Vale. And the Old Mystics, by the way, too… I admit, I am filled with curiosity. As, I imagine, are you.” His posture begins to straighten degree by degree. “But this will not do, it is untenable. And not in my nature besides. It’s one thing to offer a traveling name to a register, and another entirely to put one’s trust in a person and later learn they have deceived you all along. No. I will not have it.” The fire returns to his eyes, and he sits up straight in the little cabin, frowning. 

“Now look here, before this conversation goes any further, I must reveal a truth about myself which may… cause you some alarm. I trust that you will allow me the opportunity to explain, before jumping to conclusions.” His brow arched but steady, he holds Snow’s eyes for a moment, peering over his spectacles.

VARIELKY and AUGER

Snow and Granophyre did not close the cabin door when their discussion began. Granophyre is hiding himself from discovery by the garrison and amboule constables, but he is not concealing the present discussion from Auger and Varielky. So to the degree they wish to, the southerner and shield-maiden may hear the conversation — if not in every detail, then at least the timbre or tone. 

Auger lets Granophyre and Das talk, mostly not paying attention. He lets his mind wander and realizes that his greatest pleasure of the day came from repairing the wood on this dock. Bringing something back to its whole nature. Working the wood. Sitting on a boat he thinks of the last bit of work he did on a ship, where he assisted on the creation of a keel for a boat not much larger than this one. A fishing boat. For people who do simple things and simple work. On the Lake of Ever which is his home as much as Belliu. Would he get home again? Thinking of the lake reminds him of the last time he had been on it. On that day, not really that long ago, when he had accompanied his son, to see if the Lady would select his son and become his patron.

She had chosen Auger instead. She had passed on him all that time ago, but this time he had been chosen. It was all so confusing, his mad rush to leave his family and village. And head north. As Das and Strewn discuss musical instruments, (magical instruments? something to think on later) Auger thinks on the confusion of embarking on the disc train. And then booking passage on the ship. And then being rowed to shore. And then a long walk into the night, directly into a fight. The dead walked that night. He did it all because Py had said this was the way to go. All to honor the bargain with his patron, the Dowager, to work off a debt he did not understand and that perhaps never could be worked off. A debt he only finally came to understand last night when he communed with his patron. So his mind is very much on the Pixies of the past when the discussion in the cabin turns to the Old Mystics. What had his patron, the Dowager, said about them? Were they the ones defiling and abusing the Pixies bodies? And somehow capturing the powers within? Were they his ancestors? Auger starts listening carefully to the conversation and wonders yet again at the great knowledge Strewn demonstrates on so many subjects. Varielky and others had turned and raised weapons at him when he had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of their battle to help them. He could not really explain why he had come to them. Only Strewn had really trusted him. And so Auger in turn would trust Strewn now, to make the proper decision about Snow.

When Auger hears Das mention his father's obsession with the Old Mystics, it makes him think of his cousin. Ambitious and power-seeking beyond what humankind should be. And now rightfully and completely dead for it. Hopefully the Captain's-- well it appears he is fine to go by Snow-- hopefully Snow's father was not shaped from a similar yew.

As Strewn appears about to reveal some important secret to Snow, Auger sits up and pays attention. How much trust was the old dwarf going to show?

At the mention of deceit Snow’s mind flickers back to his meeting with Idder and Sufyan. They had offered only deception and left only the bitter taste of distrust in his mouth. They never had the courtesy to offer him any truth, he had to find that out for himself.

He rests an elbow on his leg, and places his jaw on his upraised fist, peering at Greybeard through narrowed eyes.

“Now is the time for honesty, speak your truth”

Varielky hears the conversation dimly but does not try to listen to the words. Shall anything happen, she's sure she'll be called. She hears from the tones things are getting heated, but it doesn't sound like a fight is about to break, to her anyway. Other than that, Varielky didn't really care about what's going on there. The only thing that might affect her that Granophyre could tell the captain was about her origins, but... she's not trying to hide it as much as she used to anymore. She was literally praying in Dreyen during the fight earlier. Anything else is Strewn's choice to make. It was his journey, after all. Her journey... she wasn't sure about it. Do the paths correspond, or are they to diverge soon? She vowed to protect Granophyre in his journey, but if they do find what he's looking for, what then? That was the question she wanted to ask, but he was not present to answer.

“Does the name ’Granophye Strewn’ mean anything to you?,” the old dwarf asks Snow.

Snow leans back. "Is that the Granophyre Strewn accused of attempting to murder the Kalahata Princess?".

He gets up and walks over to his backpack tucked away in the corner of the cabin, opens it and roots around for a moment, before turning around and holding out a book to Greybeard. "Or do you mean Granophyre Strewn the respected author?".

The old dwarf holds a hand out to take the book from Snow for a moment, opens briefly to the second page, a corner of his lip pulls upward slightly, then he closes the book, hands it back to Snow. He sighs, and then seems to journey through memory for a long moment before settling into the following narrative, told in a conversational yet serious tone.

“It was several years ago, when an elderly woman in Orraca u Shia, named Adilah El Idrissid, took her last shuddering breath, after a long and active life, leaving behind two children grown to adulthood and a small estate. Her belongings included a small Dwarven axe, which she bequeathed to her son, Omar El Idrissid, a scholar of history at the College of Orraca,” whose name rings a bell, “who possessed a small collection of weapons and other objects from all corners of the lands and seas -- a rapier from The Kingdoms, two Elven arrows, an old Orcish scimitar, an old Indallian longsword. The axe, Omar knows, was given to his mother as a gift, when she was a young ranger, by a goat herder, a then-young woman in the Vale of Deshar called Safiya.

”An old friend of Omar El Idrissid’s called Adekite, a dwarven Priest of Sashia,”  (God of knowledge and artisans), “visits  not long thereafter for a feast celebrating Omar’s son’s apprenticeship in a small printing shop near the Arena. Adekite is drawn to the axe, and examines it closely, remarking that its engraving is in an unfamiliar pattern. Omar is curious about the weapon’s background, and unable to identify the piece. Adekite asks permission to make a relief sketch of the engraving, and send it to an old friend in Core of Amethyst, a professor of ancient dwarven lore.” He motions to the book. “Granophyre Strewn. Omar agrees, the sketch is made and the letter sent, and some weeks later, in his underground home in the Dwarven Islands, this Granophyre Strewn opens the note and looks for a long moment at the drawing. 

“He — Strewn — believes he recognizes the markings, but does not trust his memory. He visits the great Dwarven Library in Core of Obsidian, and, comparing with an ageless tome, confirms that the sketch matches the sigil of an ancient family, lost for centuries, Clan Scoria.

”Clan Scoria, according to legend, possessed a mountain realm far from the center of Dwarven civilization, called Core of Dacite. The axe, Granophyre believes, was created there, and his curiosity is piqued — insatiably piqued — by this connection to the lost kingdom. He determines to venture to Orraca u Shia, to see what else might reveal itself. 

”The thought of rediscovering Core of Dacite is incredibly tantalizing. But, realizing that political forces might be interested in the treasures, both technological, and historical, embodied in such a find, our Granophyre Strewn determines to make the trip quietly, in the guise of a cultural excursion to see the famed Opera performer from The Conquest, the beautiful Kieu-Lan Trinh, who was scheduled to perform in Orraca u Shia. While Strewn is there, in Ishi Ammah, he will hire a crew to transport him to the Vale of Deshar.

“He arrives with his Valet and companion, and two brave cousins, who act as his protectors, and takes up residence in an Orracan villa, Safi Meknes. With Adekite, Granophyre visits the home of Omar El Idrissid, and examines the axe. Holding the artifact in his own hands confirms his research without a shadow of a doubt. The axe was made by Clan Scoria, and is in far better condition than it should be.

”Our Granophyre Strewn makes it known publicly that he will be following the great Diva to her next performance, up the Rainbow Coast. He in fact has other plans.

“Through his friends at the College, Granophyre arranges for a guide to the Vale, and his companion, Tuff, arranges for transport, and contacts an old friend recently retired from the Jenghen Provincials to coordinate quietly hiring a handful of brave defenders for the journey. And in time, Strewn arrived here in Kalahata, with every hope to continue his journey to find the lost Dwarven kingdom. 

”Meanwhile, the Jenghen Empire, in the form of Governor Ulloz, had taken a great interest in his doings, to the degree that a false accusation of attempted regicide creates a convenient excuse for a city-wide lockdown in an attempt to entrap him, and, it seems, other enemies of the empire for good measure.

“That brings us to the present moment. I… hope you can see, one student of history to another, that this Granophyre Strewn simply doesn’t have time to attempt the murder of the Shian Princess, nor the motivation. Indeed, close nearby are two individuals who would kindly speak as witnesses to Strewn’s having been… quite occupied at the time this supposed murder attempt took place.

”And as for the goal of my journey to the Vale...”

The old sage falls silent, observing Snow’s reaction. 

Snow sits back down, his brow furrowed and his head nodding slightly. “That is quite the account of the recent history of Granophyre Strewn, and I appreciate your candour”, he says with interest. “The chance to find the legendary home of a lost Dwarven Clan, well it would be the expedition of a lifetime”, he adds seemingly staring through Strewn, his mind far away. “I wonder if that was the purpose of the vision…”.

His focus returns to Strewn. “For what it is worth I was sceptical about your part in this supposed murder attempt even before I met you. And Auger has already vouched for you, well Greybeard anyway”, he says with a sly smile.

He considers for a moment. “So Varielky and Auger are the defenders you spoke of”, he says looking out the cabin door to see if either were visible. “And they are aware of these details”.

“How much does this Governer Ulloz know of your plans do you think?”

“Of that,” the old sage replies, regarding Governor Ulloz, “I can only guess. However, his all-too-recent arrival to Kalahata, in concert with what we already knew — that he had  become aware of the existence of the artifact in its hiding place, after my departure from Ishi Ammah, suggests that his prying eyes see across horizons and into places which would confound many another. Indeed, I was unaware of his presence until I saw this,” he adds, pulling a slip of parchment from the little money pouch he’d tucked into his belt, written in dwarvish with a firm hand, “Ulloz is here.”

”Varielky was one of those who accompanied me from Ishi Ammah. Auger… entered my service soon after we left the Awhar Gulf coast.” Here he pauses, and the silence is quite heavy for a long moment.

He starts up again, his voice suddenly weak and sorrowful. “And now, now that we are safely moored here, at least for this evening, I fear I’ve spent what energy I have. If you would allow me this bunk, I, and my creation there,” gesturing with a single finger up to the brass-alloy bird figurine on the shelf where he flung it earlier, which curiously seems to be in a slightly different position than it was before —“will be fine here. Why don’t you and Varielky and Auger find out where that music is coming from, and perhaps bring back a bite for me when there is time.”

Granophyre continues checking the tiny pouch, and asks Auger and Varielky to enter, paying each of you in small platinum coins, remunerating Auger for the hire fees he paid Snow, and both Auger and Varielky for their last 10 days of service, rounding up to 11 platinum each, and will repay for the cost of room and board here in what is called Jemmu Village. 

Auger steps forward to accept the coins, thinking they will mostly be useful for whatever comes next on this trip rather than creating any sense of profit or gain. (OOC: Auger took 9pp to cover the payment to Snow and then 11pp for the recent days of service.)

Turning and looking to Snow, Auger gestures towards a dragonfly resting on his shoulder. As Snow takes a closer look he would notice that the thing appears to be made of interlocking pieces of wood. "One more member of our party you have not met. This is Py. And he can keep an eye on uhhhm, Greybeard here, while we go and take care of ourselves at an Inn." Turning to Strewn he continues, "We'll bring you back some sort of meal with an ale. I am starving and am not sure how you can wait."

Looking to the others, Auger says, "Shall we?"

Well I guess I have never really asked if you sleep. Can you flit back and forth between our Inn and the boat here to ensure everything is good with Strewn?

Py, then takes off from Auger's shoulder and up into the air, turning invisible as he flies.

Snow regards the dragonfly curiously. He had never seen it’s like before.

“Can Py communicate with us? Or understand me?”

At talk of food and drink, he gets up and puts a hand on Strewn’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “We will be back shortly”. He then turns back to Auger, “Yes let’s go, I am certain we have chased off those thugs, but I am still a little wary of leaving the Animu Borongo, and her cargo”, he motions to Strewn, “for too long”

Quote from Zzozz___ >>

 

Well I guess I have never really asked if you sleep. Can you flit back and forth between our Inn and the boat here to ensure everything is good with Strewn?

 'I must perch quietly and not invisibly for 4 hours per day. Yes, master. I will circle the village. It is not large.'

Chapter 3: Jemmu Village and Kalaat Falls

(OOC: I'll assume all three of you are together).

You follow your ears and noses through the fog, pale vapors twisting in a ghostly dance to the muted music, passing two-story homes and businesses near the riverbank and within ten minutes, you arrive at a square bordered by a foundry, a warehouse, and a long adobe and wood carriage house which seems to have been converted into an inn and tavern, lantern lights behind curtains punctuating two long lines of windows. The tall barn doors are shut, but within one of them is a normal-sized door, freshly painted, over which hangs a lantern and a sign creaking slightly in the breeze announcing the establishment as Tizwa Riadh Jemmu. You enter a large dining room with a bar to one side and a tiled floor, and from the moment the door opens, energetic music takes hold of you in its buoyant grasp. In the back, a dance floor is full, and a large group of perhaps ten musicians - Shians, Orracans, a dwarf woman and two cats, play merrily, smiling at one another.

A hefty Shian man with a nose ring shuffles behind the bar near the door, a serious expression on his flat, punched-in looking face, moving quickly to fill glasses of ale and wine, and as you enter, a husband and wife depart, while behind you, several more persons hold the door for them before following you in. Unlike the quiet street you've just traversed, the place is jumping.

Snow looks around the interior of the tavern with a delighted expression. “Now this I like”, he says to Auger and Varielky, his voice raised so they can hear.

He walks towards the bar doing a little shuffle like dance. As he reaches it he raises a finger and attempts to lock eyes with the barkeep, trying to get his attention.

“What do you fancy, a jug of ale or a bottle of wine?”, he says loudly to his companions over his shoulder.

The last time Varielky was in a lively tavern, it got too lively... Mittens was still with them back then, she suddenly remembers. Was it really that long ago, but at the same time, only less than a month has passed? Varielky shakes her head. With everything that happened lately, she's been getting emotional. That's not good. Varielky isn't one to drink very often - who knows when a fight might break? However, tonight, she feels like drowning her feelings. "A jug of ale sounds more appealing." 

On the walk over Auger responds to Snow, "Py does speak out loud at times but I can communicate with it without saying anything out loud. Very quiet. Quite useful. Its wooden structure I carved and then through my connection to the Fey... Py animates the wood."

Upon entering the bar Auger is momentarily taken aback by the noise and energy, though seeing smiling faces and joyous dancing does put a smile on his face. "Ale for me. And food for us all I would think."

You learn that the man behind the bar is the owner, one Maqrin Tizra, and when he looks up hastily to acknowledge you, the man, who at first seems to be a broad-shouldered brute, smiles brightly, lips pulling back to reveal rows of perfect pearly whites, and he replies in an unexpectedly high voice, welcoming you, and sending you to a table against a wall in the middle of the room, where a waiter comes in a few minutes to take your order. Apparently, they’re used to a rush, but the waiter tells you the crowd is much bigger than usual. The fare is broiled lamb, hot off the spit with fragrant herbs, whole fish -- today's catch --, bean paste, flatbread, olives, dates, and salty cheeses. The ale is full-bodied and the music is catchy Shian dances, improvised by the players on the spot to folk melodies everyone knows. The clientele is middle-class and varied -- from the vicinity but not from the city, and also, travelers, businesspeople, and priests among them. People are eating in small groups or alone at the bar, or dancing, or standing at the bar quaffing drinks and chatting with the owner in the few moments he is not in motion.

Snow sits at the table, drumming along to the beat of the music with the fingers on one hand and holding an ale in the other. He takes another swig of ale and sets the mug down.

In front of him is a mostly empty plate, and he takes the final piece of flatbread and soaks up the left over juices, popping it into his mouth.

He chews, swallows and nods his head, “That was a fine meal, I hadn’t realised how hungry I was until I caught the smell of that lamb”.

“So, where do you both hail from?”, he asks, keen to learn more about his new companions.