Meili returned into the tavern in a far more confident state than she left it. There was a hope, no, more than that, a solid lead (she now fully believed in the priest and his divine gift) and others seemed to be as determined to follow it as she was! She did not know her new companions all that well, of course, but felt like she is truly not alone in her task.

Once inside, glanced at the bar (it was really hard not to look longingly in the direction of a special garden with the pool) but she only allowed herself a glass of water if the others were willing to spend a minute waiting. In this city, in this situation, being unfamiliar with anything in this dazzling world, Meili just tried to keep up "physically" so to speak, leaving "mentally" to others.

Neither the coliseum nor the special lodge helped with the mental calming either. The assault on every sense was overwhelming, making Meili double cautious. Are those powerful strangers friendly? They seemed to be, but was this shadow of the smile so weak because of the unfinished healing or was the prince unhappy with the group's presence? Meili made her usual polite bow and as usual quietly fall to the background, doing her best not to look towards the balcony and the arena (an enormous task, considering acrobats and cheering crowd).

He made the way back to the Thundering Lizard lost in thought and silent as a shadow. His mind going back and forth the many prices the god of divination may claim from them. Then he would remember himself about Savras’ nature and try to imagine what kind of benefits the deal could bring him. His heart was racing, his hands shaking, his throat dry and he could feel cold sweet covering his skin. Some of that was caused by the heat, he was sure of that, but most of it wasn’t. Most of it was anxiety. The same anxiety he used to feel before his attempts on running away. Maybe I’m thinking too much, he tried to calm himself. Maybe it is not too bad. Then his right hand went instinctively to his scars, as if his body were saying that maybe it was worse.

Back at the tavern he took a glass of water and kept both distance and silence. A stark contrast from his earlier behavior. Trying his best to mask how on edge he was feeling he followed Volo’s guidance. The bard spoke about architecture and history, but even then Velan could not pay attention to him. It was only when the chronist spoke the name of the merchant prince that the wizard came back to reality. 

“Apologies for our intrusion, Prince Wakanga.” He said putting his hand over his chest and bowing his head. “We are an adventuring party, like master Geddarm mentioned. I cannot assure we will succeed in ending the curse, especially considering that we still lack a guide, but we did receive an omen from Grandfather Zitembe about pursuing this quest and according to the high priest himself we will have blessing and orientation through a prophecy of Savras, through him, tomorrow at the temple.”

As he finished speaking, the wizard was not sure if he had spoken to the prince or to himself. A quest indicated by a high priest, with blessing and information directly from a god. This should make Wakanga take interest in them, sure, but also should help calm Velan’s doubts.

Ran downs a couple of cups of water at the Thundering Lizard, almost choking as he laughs thinking what his family would think, seeing him drink water for a change. Then he moves on in silence with the others. They all seem lost in thought. 

He quickly takes in the luxury box they find themselves in, taking particular notice of the buffet. 

"Oy, what he said," Ran says once Velan is finished speaking. He then nods a their surroundings. "Doing alright for yourself, aren't you your highness?"

Ran moves over to the food and begins to reach out, stops, looks over at the Wakanga and raises an eyebrow. If he doesn't see any sign of distaste, he makes a small plate of nuts and seafood, avoiding the grasshoppers, gives the turtle pate a sniff and decides it's okay and takes some.

He then approaches Ekene-Afa.

"So, these are your games?" Ran asks. "Guessing you used to be a star attraction in them. Any tips on putting a wager down tonight?"

Wakanga O'Tamu looks at Velan for a few beats before he responds.  22 

"It is no intrusion at all."  He nods in approval at Ran as he begins to eye the snack table.  "Please.  Make yourselves comfortable.  Master Volo is a welcome guest of our city, and a longtime friend of my own, and he is free to extend those privileges as he deems appropriate."

"I am intrigued to hear that Grandfather Zitembe has finally decided to play a role in this 'death curse' game.  Many have tried to draw him in before now; to invoke the perception of the All-Seeing One to guide their expeditions into the dark interior of the continent.  How curious that he would be moved by his patron to scry for you, when the sight was denied for so many others."  He uses a thin glass rod to stir a drink in an equally tall, thin glass, bits of mashed plant matter and what look like flecks of gold swirling in the clear liquid.  "How very curious..." he trails off as he stirs, eyes still lingering on Velan.

Ekene-Afa just grins as she looks each of you over... in a manner unsettlingly similar to Taban, just hours earlier.  At Ran's questions, she shrugs.  "Not my games, not exactly.  I manage the weapons trade, and supply those used in the coliseum games, that much is true.  No single Merchant Prince controls the Grand Coliseum, and we all share in the take from games and events."  She turns and looks out the balcony into the cheering crowds leaning on a pillar with a muscled forearm.  "In practice, none of the others are interested enough to put the time and the care into putting on a proper spectacle... to give the people the entertainment they deserve.  So most often in falls to me to make such arrangements.  Formally, no these are not my games."  She turns back, holding a fist over her heart.  "But it was here in this arena where I won my prize... not just coin, but the love of my people.  In here... yes.  These games will always be part of me."

"As to a wager," she says with a devilish smile, " I was just discussing that with the Prince."  She unfurls a scroll with some of the current odds marked down.  "The number crunchers have Taban vs Shago as a toss-up.  I disagree.  Taban has been spoiling for a rematch since Shago bested him at the Tiryki Games.  I see Taban with a slight edge, despite Shago's youth.  I have offered Wakanga to let him take Shago at a 100 pays 110 rate - honest and generous woman that I am.  But he remains on the fence."

Ran eats as he listens to Ekene-Afa.

"I can imagine the punters need a bit of a beaut of a distraction with all this death curse business out in the jungle."

He considers telling her about the dust up with Taban earlier but then decides they may want to think about not saying anything until they've a better idea of who's going to be of a greater help to them, Wakanga or Ekene-Afa.

Velan's too much in direct sight of Wakanga, so Ran slips back next to Mica.

"What do you think?" Ran asks Mica in a low voice. "Do we tell them Taban got into a fight today? Probably changes the odds."

“Thank you er… Forgive my ignorance, but is there a way that the princes prefer to be referred as?” He asked looking from Wakanga to Ekene-Afa, hoping that the rest of the group would catch from his words that she was, too, a Merchant Prince.

He felt a mixture of admiration and envy when she spoke of her sentimental attachment to the coliseum. Velan doubted he had ever felt like that about something in the world. It was an experience he definitely wanted to experiment. Maybe this will be the price for me, he pondered. To abandon something I truly come to love after finding it.

“According to Grandfather Zitembe himself, he couldn’t see anything about the curse, but then he had a vision of himself telling our group to visit the temple again and receive a prophecy, a blessing, from the Lord of Divination so it's likely he never truly had a choice in the matter.” He continued, casting his eyes upon Wakanga once again. “We are scheduled to return to the temple tomorrow so by then we may have a better understanding of the situation, but until then I have no idea why the high priest’s patron would have such interest in our group.”

That was, probably, the most honest words he said the entire day. Not that he had lied up to that point, but nothing else he voiced mirrored his thoughts quite so literally.

Taking a very long blink to brace herself for being near such a fashion statement for likely the rest of the day and evening, the elf cleared her throat before greeting the man in kind. Still taking a chance to catch Meili's eye before making an apparent, 'get a load of this guy' expression behind his back. Knowing the importance of keeping hydrated when available, Danica does order a simple water for one copper and raising it towards the others that were smart enough to do the same, takes long draughts before departing with Volo still just as sticky as she felt before, but a tad less thirsty. She listened with swaying interest as the eccentric scholar began lecturing them on the coliseum and its history, more interested in Ekene-Afa and her various exploits than the architecture. The sailor had to admit that the level of security was rather impressive, and she was certainly glad that Volo allowed them entry on his personal pass.

Once they reached their ultimate destination though, the brunette couldn't help but wonder if they should have come, waiting with held breath to see how their apparent 'sudden appearance' would be taken and letting out a slightly anxious chuckle as the Merchant Prince gestured for them to enter welcomingly. Danica does her best not to stare impolitely at their host and was glad that Velan stepped up to address him, wondering if the gesture he had done was a local custom.

Eyes flicking rapidly between Wakanga and Velan as they spoke of the priest and vision she finally stepped forward, "Well he hasn't quite scryed for us yet. But can't help but think that the gods seem to favor us or at least our quest just a smidge." With an easy going smile, Danica tried to take the leader's piercing eyes off of Velan by offering him her hand for a shake as she introduced herself, "Danica Amastacia. I'm the one heading and financing this particular expedition. A pleasure to meet two of Chult's famous Merchant Princes." She bowed a head to both Wakanga and Ekene-Afa in respect. "The city is as beautiful as your people. A shame we won't be able to enjoy it for as long as it deserves before we'll need to begin our journey." 

After seeing Ran get away with taking some food, Danica made her way over and eagerly plating what was likely more salmon and turtle pate than was necessarily polite, sprinkling next to it a handful of spiced almonds and two mint-creme tarts before stepping over to the bartender and asking for something 'quenching'. 

Mica shakes his head, getting the feel of his new braids and gives the group a small smile as they head back to the inn.  He grabs a glass of water from the bar as the others meet up with Volo, trying to push back the heat of the day and the exertion from the fight with Taban.  He is quiet as they walk through the maze of streets to the coliseum and into the private box.

“Thank you, your highnesses” Mica expresses his gratitude to the princes awkwardly.  How do you address a Merchant Prince?  Mica had met a few merchants, but no princes.  He is thankful when Velan does most of the talking and asks how they should be addressed.

He moves back to the table and grabs a few handfuls of nuts as he listens to Ran talk with Ekene-Afa. “Shago has his fans among the people, they see him as fighting to take back the jungle.  He must be something if he has already beaten Taban once.”  Mica rubs the bridge of his nose without thinking.  As Ran slides over to him to talk alone, Mica seems surprised by the question “Hm. Taban would not like word of the fight getting out, but the lady here might like to know if she has gold riding on him.  I wouldn't want her as an enemy.  We must have dinged him up but good.”

Oh, Meili did follow Danica's silent advice and did watch both Princes (as she hoped, not too openly). It get easier once everyone began to talk and eat. Speaking of which... She moved to the tables. "The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page..." She intended to at least "glance at the content" and risked to put a bit of everything on her plate (including a grasshopper) side-eyeing from under the eyelashes more experienced with the dishes - how do they actually eat each of the snacks. She still kept away from alcohol of any kind, though, but was curious about possible fruit juices.

Ran was open in his conversation with Ekene-Afa about Taban but Meili hesitated to comment in either way. Taban was definitely a prideful warrior and surely would not want a word of his defeat to get on the streets. He also could heal his wounds - the group did, did not they? Complicated relationships of the betting community seemed too unimportant to her to bother with even thinking about it. Still...  it would be fair to warn?

Ran nods as Mica speaks. Growing up in the Dock Ward taught Ran a lot. He was able to get out of most scrapes either by throwing a good punch or slipping away unnoticed. But being a careful talker wasn’t his strong suit.

He decides just to toss it out there and see what happens.

Ran makes his way back to Ekene-Afa.

”We got to spend some time with Taban earlier today. I’m sure he’s fine. Couple of bumps and maybe a bruise but nothing broken. From the sounds of it we might have been little more than a warm up for him. But since the two of you are discussing odds on the fight, I thought I’d let you know that the big boy has already had one dance today.”

Both Merchant Princes chuckle with amusement at the concern over how to address them.  “This is not some monarch’s court.  We rule because the people of Chult respect us and trust our judgement.  Titles are formalities for official proceedings.  My guests my call me by my name,” says Wakanga and Ekene-Afa nods.

Wakanga’s drink stirring slows and then stops as he hears the specifics of your dealings with Grandfather Zitembe.  He begins stirring again and says, “In that case, it sounds as though it is not the priest, but the god himself who has chosen to join the game.  Truly, this is turning many powerful eyes upon our homeland…”.

At the news of your fight with Taban, Ekene-Afa is appalled but Wakanga is greatly amused, wondering if he can still get those odds on Shago?  Ekene-Afa takes Wakanga’s counsel on how to proceed.  Soon, she decides to have the action on the match suspended and cancel all bets.  This will infuriate them gamblers in the crowd, but not half as much so if word gets out that one of the fighters was injured in extra curricular fisticuffs.  She leans out of the balcony and begins shouting instructions to someone you cannot see.

Wakanga, meanwhile, is curious what lead you into a fight with one of the cities most accomplished gladiators?

He is relieved by the princes’ answers regarding the way to treat them. If anything, it proved that they were not offended. At least this we can cross out from the list of things that can kill us in this journey, Velan thought as Wakanga voiced thoughts the wizard previously had. A rather long list, he was certain. One that could well include enemies from the Lord of Divination. If not the god himself.

“I would like to know his reasons, but deities are some of the most secretive creatures on the multiverse.” A fact the caster regarded as rather unfortunate on that situation.  “About Taban, a fight broke out while we were collecting a gamble debt the man had incurred by the Executioner’s Run.” He said to the prince who dealt in magic and lore. “We were hired in front of the temple of Savras by a woman called K’halu. She works for Jessamine and received a divination form Grandfather Zitembe, saying that she would find us and if we helped her the debt would be collected faster. She also said that high priest had something to tell us, so we visited the temple after the ordeal. We were already being expected by the Grandfather and heard everything I just relied.”

An awful lot of prophecies, Velan noticed now that he stopped to think about. Maybe some of his newfound companions was some kind of divine champion. He certainly couldn’t be one to draw the attention of a god. Experience had taught him as much.

“I hope it is not an offense if Danica were to offer our services to both of you.”

After lacking to catch the attention of the one Merchant Prince they had actually come to meet, Danica dropped her offered hand after a moment, stepping back and simply observing the ones that had better repport take the lead. Yet she can't help but a mild grimace of distaste warp her expression at Mica's wording of 'fighting to take back the jungle'. "Unless there is a mighty force barring any entry to the jungle, I doubt that is what Shago is doing. And you can't take the jungle back from itself." Her eyes were sharp as she said this, spine a little straighter before she her attention flitted to Ekene-Afa shouting at someone on a lower platform to cancel all of her bets. Chuckling to herself at that scene, the elf popped a salmon turtle pate covered flat bread into her mouth before humming in appreciation. 

Attention turning back to Velan after she heard him say her name, she looked between the magic caster and Wakanga with slightly raised eyebrows, nearly full cheeks and a crumb on her lip. "Mm?" Chewing and swallowing rapidly with a thankfully closed mouth, the woman cleared her throat before finally managing to get out, "I'm sure that these fine country makers have their own means of taking care of things. But if either of you felt generous enough to take us up on the offer..." The sailor trailed off with a shrug before tacking on, "We're an eclectic bunch, but that gives us an edge. Especially out in the wilderness should something still need doing out there." She took a chance adding the 'still', guessing that if either of them did have anything that they needed done in the jungle that they likely would have already asked one of the many other expeditions that had already headed in that were yet to return. 

“A little more than a warm-up?” Mica echoes Ran “He barely worked up a sweat and it took us all to get him to yield. Even then, he left his marks on us.”  Mica crunched on a grasshopper, tasting a sweetness he was not used to due to the candied coating. 

“We didn’t set out to tangle with your man or ruin your games.” he nodded to Ekene-Afa “if he paid his debts we would not have needed to. Didn’t set out to be noticed by the gods either” Mica shrugged.

Mica was surprised when Velan mentioned offering the group’s services to the Merchant princes.  What would we have to offer them? Even more so when Danica seemed open to the idea. He noted Danica's remarks on Shago and the jungle and shrugged again "People talk.  I don't think the jungle is what they are talking about, but rather the dangerous creatures that lurk within and threaten the city.  I am interested to see those myself."

Ran raises an eyebrow at all the excitement generated by mentioning their run in with Taban earlier. He smiles to himself and then helps himself to more food as the others talk. Finally noticing the bartender in the corner, he makes his way there to ask for more water and something akin to a beer or whatever they have here.

He listens to the others speak for a few moments as he sips. They all want out into the interior of the island for some reason or another. But from what he's been able to piece together since he got into town earlier today, there seems to be a lot out there that wants in here too. If he could find his sister and that damn Rosznar brat quickly, this might be the kind of place to make a few extra coins and maybe turn this whole venture profitable.  

Ran opens his mouth to ask another question but decides it can wait. A lot has been asked of these merchant princes already.

The bartender responds to Meili's inquiry and formally lists off the different juices available: pineapple; dragonfruit; longthorn; cape melon.

Danica receives a strange drink.  It is served to her in a glass cup, similar to wineglasses she may have seen but without a stem.  The bartender takes a slice of fruit which somewhat resembles cactus, with long wood-like thorns in its skin and press it through a strainer, collecting the juice.  He adds melon juice and then pours in a clear, odorless liquor, then adds a splash molasses colored rum.  He tops it off with a pinwheel made of pink-colored paper.  He advises this is popular among visiting foreign socialites and that it is called a 'river-runner'.

For Ran, the bartender calls out to a neighboring suite, and soon a runner brings a mug of ale.  You instantly recognize it as ship's ale from its slightly bitter taste.  Made to survive lengthy transmit over vast oceans, its not as earthy or comforting as some of your favorite hometown brews, but it's definitely beer.  Some folk even prefer it, especially sailors who grow accustomed to it during long trips out at sea.

Wakanga O'Tamu approaches Danica and Mica.  Now he takes Danica's hand and apologizes for missing the earlier opportunity to greet her properly.  He also weighs in on their conversation about Shago and the jungle.  "'Tis true, in part.  Young Shago's friends with the Flaming Fist do invest a great deal of their time clearing the jungles."  Responding to Danica's comment about 'taking back the jungle from itself', he adds, "And in some ways, madame, there really is a great force preventing us from accessing the rainforest.  As foreigners, perhaps you don't know the history.  Centuries ago, the great god Ubtao walked the lands of Chult in earthly form.  He raised up a dozen mortals to serve as his emissaries and together they ruled from the great capital city of Mezro.  But in time Ubtao lost faith in mankind and departed this realm.  His emissaries began to quarrel, and one of them rose us a vast army of undead with which to conquer Mezro.  The unmentionable one was defeated, but the magicks he used to create his army still infect the jungles.  Hordes of skeletons, zombies, ghouls and worse roam the interior, and there are dark places were anything that perishes is doomed to rise again as undead... even some of the great dinosaurs."

"We do not have the numbers to mount a campaign to clear all of the undead, or the magics necessary to obliterate them permanently.  And so we maintain Port Nyanzaru and a few smaller settlements on the cost and keep our people safe here, while more intrepid souls operate from camps and walled towns in the deep jungles and mountains, to mine, to harvest plants or timber, or to collect animal hides.  These we bring to the ports to trade and we gain coin.  Coin brings prosperity, security and power.  In time, enough power to put down the undead scourge forever."

"Shago has the impatience of youth.  He possesses great strength and great passion.  He sees the Flaming Fist take the fight to the undead, while he sees us focused instead on defense, and he interprets this as indifference or worse.  As in most things, the matter is more complicated.  I suspect if Shago lives to an older age, he will come to understand this as well."

Later he listens in rapt attention to Velan's explanation of the lead up to your battle with Taban.  As he listens, he continues to look at Velan curiously, with almost clinical interest, as though he has never seen a blue half-orc before.

Ekene-Afa answers first about work.  "I have no jobs to offer, though the coliseum is always looking for brave souls willing to fight for coin and glory.  There is quite a waiting list but if you're interested, I'm sure I could arrange something to get you priority.  Not tonight of course, but there will be a smaller event in three days.  The prizes match the danger, so don't expect to get rich fighting a handful of Batiri," she says with a laugh. 

Wakanga has to proper work to offer either, but he is interested items of historical, cultural, or magical significance.  "If you do probe the jungles, seek me out back here if you discover anything exciting.  Lost ruins, relics of our past, or items of great magical power.  For this knowledge, I can see that you are rewarded.  Also, if any of you are cartographers, I will pay good coin for fresh maps of the interior."

Finally, the entertainment begins.  A series of three loud gongs sound, and the crowd roars.  The Merchant Princes guide you all out to the balcony, where a dozen padded chairs await; more than enough seats for everyone.  The late afternoon sun streams through the gap in the arena wall and a ring of torches surrounds the fighting floor.  After you all take your seats, a crier announces the names of the first fighters.  A pair of Chultan men, one wielding a short spear, the native yklwa, and a shield, and the other using a longer spear with two hands emerge from a portcullis and meet at the center, waving to the crowd.  They then pace off and assume a fighting stance... but not toward each, facing back-to-back instead.  It is then that two more portcullises on opposite sides of the stadiumopen.  From each emerge two snarling reptiles.  The four beasts take a few confused steps out onto the arena floor until one if them notices the two men and charges.  Soon the other three follow suit and the men prepare to meet their charge.  

The monsters look something like crocodiles but with large, colorful sails on their backs.  They have powerful, snapping jaws but there is something mammalian, almost ratlike about the shape of their heads and jaws.  "Dimetrodons," Ekene-Afa leans over and says, clearly excited to watch the fight.  "In the wild they are lazy beasts, but when their bellies are empty, they can be quite dangerous.  These fighters are new... my coin is on the dimetrodons tonight."

Meili even stopped crunching on the grasshopper (she tried to be as delicate as possible but that food was noisy) when Wakanga was giving his history lesson. She listened quietly but, moved but the story, could not help but note "those who say foreigners care only for their wealth in your lands are right, though. Flaming Fist are here for themselves, not for Chult. Surely, your Shago should understand that?" She immediately quieted down until another question provoked by the story forced her to ask. "Can the magic which keeps dead from resting be the same that now destroys the souls?"

She was still thinking about it when the show began. From that moment on, Meili's eyes were glued to the arena. Whether the group was going to join the fights (she did not see the reason to waste time in such a manner but who knows) or go straight to the jungles - those creatures will be there. She would much prefer to see them in action first to be at least somewhat prepared later.

Danica's eyes light up as the exotic drink is passed to her and she very nearly didn't catch that it didn't have a stem but held onto it as it was passed to her. "A River Runner eh? Well gents if you see me trying to run up the river, you'll know why. To your health." She raised the glass in impromptu toast before taking a long draught and could already tell she would be knocking a few more of these back, itching to feel the buzz. Taking out the pink paper pinwheel, she twirled it a moment before trying to discreetly slip it into Ran's mug of ale. (Slight of Hand: 5)

After this little prank, Danica then focused on the surprise history lesson that Wakanga was giving them on Chult and its rainforest. Her attention might have wavered had he not soon mentioned the hordes of various undead and the fact that not everything killed always stayed dead in some parts of the jungles. With that grim news she took another gulp of her drink, barely savoring the unique flavor this go around before requesting of the bartender, "I think I'll need another, if you'd be so kind." Before turning back to the Merchant Prince O'Tamu to ask, "And what of Obtau's eleven other emissaries?" Her eyes flicked to Velan as if he somehow might know the answer. He had proved to be quite knowledgeable thus far. 

The sailor had to admit, that the Merchant Prince's strategy to eventually solve Chult's problem was sound. Yet humans lived such short lives. How many generations would it take before they saw the fruits of their efforts? But his comments about the Flaming ****s caused an under the breath chuff from Danica before she stated, "If the Famous Fiery Fingers want to dash their troops upon the rocks to be as effective as a wave against a cliff, who is anyone to stop them? Have their efforts made the matter worse so far?" 

At Meili's astute question about the strange magic that brought them here being connected to the magic causing undead, Danica grunted with a nod, her mouth full of salmon turtle pate for a moment before swallowing, "I'm no wizard but doesn't seem that far fetched that the magic taking the healing life brought to people and the magic used to continuously not allow the dead to stay that way both seem fairly necromantic." 

Attention turning to the fight starting, the brunette elf analyzed the situation with a raised eyebrow. "Is four against two common odds? The second fellow doesn't even have the benefit of a shield. I think you're right." She says to Ekene-Afa about the creatures. She was rather indifferent to a fight such as this. People fighting amongst themselves was sport but no reason to get animals just trying to survive involved. Especially if they had to be starved to be considered effective opponents even. The affair left a bad taste in Danica's mouth that she tried to drown with drink and a handful of the spiced almonds.

Ran took the offered ale, downed a long quaff, looked back at the glass and nodded. All those juice drinks seemed to make him thirstier than not drinking.

He settles in with the others and watches the dimetrodons enter the arena. When he looks back down at his beer, he sees a tiny bright pink umbrella floating on top of the head. He frowns and then looks around before turning back to his ale.

Ran quickly fishes the little parasol out, shakes it several times then folds it up and slips it behind his right ear.

He turns back to look at the large reptiles and the way they move.

"Are there dimetrodons on the Shoshenstar?" Ran asks during gaps in the fighting. "Anything else to keep an eye out for on the river?"

Velan turned his attention to Meili, to her words. Not that he thought she spoke out of spite or ill intention. For all that she had showed the monk was kind and gentle. Yet he could not help but to be bothered by it. He had spent too much time being the strange, the foreigner, in a way or another, to not be bothered by it.

“You notice that if you words were to be taken as true then you yourself would be after only for your wealth in Chultean lands, right?” He points to her trying his best to sound polite. “I know that this is not the case. I am merely trying to point that generalizations are perfidious, dangerous things.” Especially when said in front of rulers, he thought forgetting his anxiety about the pact with Savras. “If History tells something is that it is not the territorial or consuetudinary delimitations of where one is born that necessarily define their intentions. When it comes to the Flaming Fist I think their interests tend to be more selfish by the very nature of the Order’s existence as mercenaries but it is hard to tell how much weight such intentions hold. I doubt any large organization is absent of conflict.” It was practically impossible for it to be. “Maybe Shago is intent on taking the Order from inside and before doing so he wishes for the Order to gain influence, but that is just my speculation.” Then he turns to Danica, impressed by how well she knew the fundamentals of necromantic magic. Most people thought of it as something inherently evil. It was good to see he didn’t need any special caution when using the school around her. “Prince Wakanga said that the great god Ubtao choose his emissaries centuries ago, which probably translate to the rising of the undead being centuries old while the Death Curse is fairly recent. Of course, the undead raising magic may just have progressed slowly, maybe unpredictably into the Death Curse, but it seems more of a simply statistical possibility rather than something realistic. I think it unlikely both things are one and the same.”

His last words were an intentional declaration of his specialization, Velan realized only after voicing it. The slow progression of a spell was the kind of thing only casters usually considered and the possibility of its unforeseen mutation on a spell was the kind of thing only the pursuers of arcane knowledge usually considered.

“Prince Ekene-Afa”. He says with a respectful nod of his head. “Given that Grandfather’s Zitembe prophecy may well send us into quest tomorrow I am afraid that, for now, we cannot take part in any matches but for future reference would there be way for us to contact any of you... He turn his head into Wakanga's direction. ...in case we decide to fight or come to acquire mystical or historical items?”