Kel removed the bowl from his mess kit, pouring out a cups worth of the beverage into it.
"It's called Tej, I met a merchant on the road peddling some casks of it. He said it was the fermentation of honey. It's not bad." Kel took another sip of his own drink and resumed working on his greatsword. He glanced at Anders weapon. "I can take an edge to that as well if you'd like."
Anearis pondered for a second. How much could such an item really cost? Would the old elf even accept gold? What would he do with it? He looked more like a hermit. Then again, setting up a shop in the middle of nowhere was bizarre on its own. The old man might have had a few screw loose.
’’Well...I am not wealthy man. Would you accept 1 gold coin? Does that sound like a reasonable price? I do believe you are talented in your craft. I am sorry, I have very little else to offer.’’
The old elf nearly jumped in place, at Anearis's offer. "Of course. If you believe a gold to be fair, then it's a deal! The scent is yours." Giddily, he turned to face Atal, though as soon as he made eye-contact, a slack-jawed expression like he was just hit in the back of the head with a hammer, came over him and he hurried over to one of the book shelves. Mummbling to himself, it stopped as he shouted, "Ah-ha!"
The elf pulled a small stone pot off a bottom shelf, only about half the size of the one he gave Anearis, and much rougher around the edges. Even though it had a small size, approximately the size of a small drinking glass, it had considerable weight to it. He brought it, but rather than shoving it into Atal's face, he held it out and dropped it into Atal's hand. Written very tiny, was the same 'Yahn'Keey Kandle' and the word 'Guttar' A faint scent of oiled leather and something else. That something else was not something easily identified, but still resonated an unknown familiarity with Atal. The old man watched Atal's face, almost as if waiting for a physical sign that the scent reached Atal's nostrils, before bouncing in place and saying "Yes, yes of course." As if responding to something he said internally to himself.
Finally, he turned to Uthal, stepping over to the goliath, and staring at the blank side of the letter, that Uthal was inadvertently now holding between them. Even though Uthal had been given a stack of letters, it was still only one side of a conversation, as the letters from Trevor, were likely still with Cedric. The wrinkly elf stood waiting until Uthal finished the letter or stopped reading.
Trevor,
As I said before, we would need something more substantial than just a witness. While I know how good your word is, putting it alone against Regis would be fruitless, especially with the new claims.
Filling one's coffers with the Temple's funds is one thing, but using that to finance private research leaves too many questions. We need to know more about this before we can proceed. My ward and I will still be coming to Cathaan, but I need to know exactly what I'm walking into.
This is asking a lot from you, my friend, and I don't want you to put yourself into any risky positions. You need to find out exactly what Regis is doing with the funds. The money is obviously not going to the Baron, if he's funneling money from him as well. Where is it going, and to what ends?
As of now, I don't think it safe to be bringing anyone more into this, at least until we have more answers, but I leave it to your discretion.
The old man stared up at the goliath, a smug look on his face. He produced a small item from his pocket, and held it above his head, for Uthal. If Atal's candle was a drinking glass, the one presented to Uthal was a shot glass. The container was a pale bleached wood that looked almost like bone. The solid wax within it though, was unlike the solid smooth state of those given to Anearis and Atal. Instead, the wax within Uthal's had a large number of fibers sticking out from the solid surface, and although there were hints of other scents, there was one specific overwhelming aroma. An aroma that Uthal became all too familar with in Cathaan. A smell of rotting carcass; the same smell of the hide armor, whose purchase put him into the poor house. There were underlying hints of what a Northern clan goliath would describe as 'the smells of battle, but it was greatly overpowered, by the scent of that cursed hide armor. "Not want you want, but what you need."
After giving the man a gold coin and storing away the potted candle, Anearis turns to the old man once more.
"Thank you for your services. If I could only ask you a simple question. Have you seen a rider on the road down the hill earlier today? He is a friend of ours and we are trying to get to him."
"If that's what you relate it to, but this. THIS.." He stretches, attempting to hold it higher toward Uthal's face. "THIS is what you NEED."
Still stretching and facing Uthal, but talking out the side of his mouth, as if that was how he thought he could turn his voice to Anearis, without turning away from Uthal. "You have many many friends then. That down there is not exactly the road less traveled. Many many riders go down it every day."
"I really don't have any money left,"Atal tells the shopkeeper as he eyes the label on the candle with a sense of dissatisfaction. Still, that bewitching scent...
He digs through his pockets, and finding what he's looking for, pulls out a book. Holding it out to the shopkeeper, he says "Here. I don't know if you have this in your collection yet, but I hear it's of a quality that could entertain nobles. A fair trade for this, I'd say..."
(The book Atal is offering is "A Game At Dinner" by Anonymous, the Baron's novel of smut which he stole.)
As Uthal left the cabin, the old man dropped his arms to his sides, and tears began to well up in his eyes. Turning to Atal, speaking through the water works beginning to pour down his face. "Yes, if you think that a fair trade. I accept." With one swift motion, he accepts the book and slings it onto his stack.Absolutely devastated from the interaction with Uthal, the elf slowly slunk back behind the counter, head hung low, and yet again, by crawling beneath it.
Atal leans over and gives the man a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry too much about the big guy. He's one of those 'tough love' guys. You know, the less he talks, the more he likes you? Keep up the good work, and I bet we'll be back someday. Maybe even with a new book or two for you. Thanks for the candle, by the way. Smells like nostalgia to me, so you have a sharp nose." Atal is actually being serious here, even though his usual sardonic smile hasn't changed much. Unhinged as he might seem, the man could pin scents of experience onto them without having met them. He wouldn't be surprised if this crazy hermit had some kind of front door connection to a god up there somewhere. Better not to offend those types, even with their questionable tastes in reading. "Got any last-minute advice for a bunch of fools camping out for the night here before we make our way to a dungeon of certain doom?"
Afterwards, he turns to Anaeris to ask, "You done here too?"
Atal turns around, looking surprised. "Oh, I thought we'd mentioned it! We're going to the ruins of Castle Aaaargh," he says, still not quite sure if he's drawing out the howl of pain long enough to do the name justice. "The Arbitrator of Midgar was making his way to the dungeons there on some foolish suicide mission, and we're following after him to make sure it doesn't end badly for him."
Still with a wet face, though the tears having stopped flowing from his eyes, the old elf began to regain himself. “And you’re following the road? Why not just go straight there through the woods?”
Anearis watched the goliath turn down the old man’s offer. He felt sad for the hermit. But there wasn’t much else he could do, especially now. He walked towards the old elf and bow courteously.
"Oprietae gohenay nin. Our companion did not mean to offend you. I wish to thank you for your hospitality and your time. We shall disturb you no longer"
He nods to Atal as a sign that he’s ready to leave as well.
“No disturbance at all, younger me.” The old elf turned to Anearis, and as if having forgotten about the encounter with Uthal all together, he returned to the semi-crazed joyous grin of having customers. “Please make sure to tell all your many many friends about my shop.”
(This is before Anaeris tells him goodbye, so still mid convo)
„Well, these woods are pretty dense, we‘d probably get turned around without some sort of directions. Speed is of the essence though... what‘s the fastest way to the castle ruins from here?“
”Well fastest is all depending on the speed you go, but from here, shortest distance would be a herder’s pass. It starts just northwest of here. I could probably spit and hit it.”
Kel removed the bowl from his mess kit, pouring out a cups worth of the beverage into it.
"It's called Tej, I met a merchant on the road peddling some casks of it. He said it was the fermentation of honey. It's not bad." Kel took another sip of his own drink and resumed working on his greatsword. He glanced at Anders weapon. "I can take an edge to that as well if you'd like."
Exitus Acta Probat
Uthal simply takes one of Cedric's letters from his pack and begins to read while he waits for the elves.
Gronk in Bastion, Kingdom of Medrin Elixisys in Talaveroth (Team 2) Uthal in Lost Continent of Theviranne
Anearis pondered for a second. How much could such an item really cost? Would the old elf even accept gold? What would he do with it? He looked more like a hermit. Then again, setting up a shop in the middle of nowhere was bizarre on its own. The old man might have had a few screw loose.
’’Well...I am not wealthy man. Would you accept 1 gold coin? Does that sound like a reasonable price? I do believe you are talented in your craft. I am sorry, I have very little else to offer.’’
The old elf nearly jumped in place, at Anearis's offer. "Of course. If you believe a gold to be fair, then it's a deal! The scent is yours." Giddily, he turned to face Atal, though as soon as he made eye-contact, a slack-jawed expression like he was just hit in the back of the head with a hammer, came over him and he hurried over to one of the book shelves. Mummbling to himself, it stopped as he shouted, "Ah-ha!"
The elf pulled a small stone pot off a bottom shelf, only about half the size of the one he gave Anearis, and much rougher around the edges. Even though it had a small size, approximately the size of a small drinking glass, it had considerable weight to it. He brought it, but rather than shoving it into Atal's face, he held it out and dropped it into Atal's hand. Written very tiny, was the same 'Yahn'Keey Kandle' and the word 'Guttar' A faint scent of oiled leather and something else. That something else was not something easily identified, but still resonated an unknown familiarity with Atal. The old man watched Atal's face, almost as if waiting for a physical sign that the scent reached Atal's nostrils, before bouncing in place and saying "Yes, yes of course." As if responding to something he said internally to himself.
Finally, he turned to Uthal, stepping over to the goliath, and staring at the blank side of the letter, that Uthal was inadvertently now holding between them. Even though Uthal had been given a stack of letters, it was still only one side of a conversation, as the letters from Trevor, were likely still with Cedric. The wrinkly elf stood waiting until Uthal finished the letter or stopped reading.
Trevor,
As I said before, we would need something more substantial than just a witness. While I know how good your word is, putting it alone against Regis would be fruitless, especially with the new claims.
Filling one's coffers with the Temple's funds is one thing, but using that to finance private research leaves too many questions. We need to know more about this before we can proceed. My ward and I will still be coming to Cathaan, but I need to know exactly what I'm walking into.
This is asking a lot from you, my friend, and I don't want you to put yourself into any risky positions. You need to find out exactly what Regis is doing with the funds. The money is obviously not going to the Baron, if he's funneling money from him as well. Where is it going, and to what ends?
As of now, I don't think it safe to be bringing anyone more into this, at least until we have more answers, but I leave it to your discretion.
Cedric
Uthal folds the letter and looks down at the elf. "Do you have one that kills things now?"
Gronk in Bastion, Kingdom of Medrin Elixisys in Talaveroth (Team 2) Uthal in Lost Continent of Theviranne
The old man stared up at the goliath, a smug look on his face. He produced a small item from his pocket, and held it above his head, for Uthal. If Atal's candle was a drinking glass, the one presented to Uthal was a shot glass. The container was a pale bleached wood that looked almost like bone. The solid wax within it though, was unlike the solid smooth state of those given to Anearis and Atal. Instead, the wax within Uthal's had a large number of fibers sticking out from the solid surface, and although there were hints of other scents, there was one specific overwhelming aroma. An aroma that Uthal became all too familar with in Cathaan. A smell of rotting carcass; the same smell of the hide armor, whose purchase put him into the poor house. There were underlying hints of what a Northern clan goliath would describe as 'the smells of battle, but it was greatly overpowered, by the scent of that cursed hide armor. "Not want you want, but what you need."
Uthal gives him a look of disdain. "What I need is the smell of a cheap armor which was made by a failed tanner? Seems unlikely."
Gronk in Bastion, Kingdom of Medrin Elixisys in Talaveroth (Team 2) Uthal in Lost Continent of Theviranne
After giving the man a gold coin and storing away the potted candle, Anearis turns to the old man once more.
"Thank you for your services. If I could only ask you a simple question. Have you seen a rider on the road down the hill earlier today? He is a friend of ours and we are trying to get to him."
"If that's what you relate it to, but this. THIS.." He stretches, attempting to hold it higher toward Uthal's face. "THIS is what you NEED."
Still stretching and facing Uthal, but talking out the side of his mouth, as if that was how he thought he could turn his voice to Anearis, without turning away from Uthal. "You have many many friends then. That down there is not exactly the road less traveled. Many many riders go down it every day."
"Elf, leave me alone. I do not need nor want your smells." Uthal takes a step back then turns and leaves, waiting outside.
Gronk in Bastion, Kingdom of Medrin Elixisys in Talaveroth (Team 2) Uthal in Lost Continent of Theviranne
"I really don't have any money left," Atal tells the shopkeeper as he eyes the label on the candle with a sense of dissatisfaction. Still, that bewitching scent...
He digs through his pockets, and finding what he's looking for, pulls out a book. Holding it out to the shopkeeper, he says "Here. I don't know if you have this in your collection yet, but I hear it's of a quality that could entertain nobles. A fair trade for this, I'd say..."
(The book Atal is offering is "A Game At Dinner" by Anonymous, the Baron's novel of smut which he stole.)
As Uthal left the cabin, the old man dropped his arms to his sides, and tears began to well up in his eyes. Turning to Atal, speaking through the water works beginning to pour down his face. "Yes, if you think that a fair trade. I accept." With one swift motion, he accepts the book and slings it onto his stack.Absolutely devastated from the interaction with Uthal, the elf slowly slunk back behind the counter, head hung low, and yet again, by crawling beneath it.
Atal leans over and gives the man a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry too much about the big guy. He's one of those 'tough love' guys. You know, the less he talks, the more he likes you? Keep up the good work, and I bet we'll be back someday. Maybe even with a new book or two for you. Thanks for the candle, by the way. Smells like nostalgia to me, so you have a sharp nose." Atal is actually being serious here, even though his usual sardonic smile hasn't changed much. Unhinged as he might seem, the man could pin scents of experience onto them without having met them. He wouldn't be surprised if this crazy hermit had some kind of front door connection to a god up there somewhere. Better not to offend those types, even with their questionable tastes in reading. "Got any last-minute advice for a bunch of fools camping out for the night here before we make our way to a dungeon of certain doom?"
Afterwards, he turns to Anaeris to ask, "You done here too?"
His old elven eyes were beginning to become puffy and red as he looked back up at Atal. "Dungeon of Doom? Where are you all headed?"
Atal turns around, looking surprised. "Oh, I thought we'd mentioned it! We're going to the ruins of Castle Aaaargh," he says, still not quite sure if he's drawing out the howl of pain long enough to do the name justice. "The Arbitrator of Midgar was making his way to the dungeons there on some foolish suicide mission, and we're following after him to make sure it doesn't end badly for him."
Still with a wet face, though the tears having stopped flowing from his eyes, the old elf began to regain himself. “And you’re following the road? Why not just go straight there through the woods?”
Anearis watched the goliath turn down the old man’s offer. He felt sad for the hermit. But there wasn’t much else he could do, especially now. He walked towards the old elf and bow courteously.
"Oprietae gohenay nin. Our companion did not mean to offend you. I wish to thank you for your hospitality and your time. We shall disturb you no longer"
He nods to Atal as a sign that he’s ready to leave as well.
*My sincerest apologies
“No disturbance at all, younger me.” The old elf turned to Anearis, and as if having forgotten about the encounter with Uthal all together, he returned to the semi-crazed joyous grin of having customers. “Please make sure to tell all your many many friends about my shop.”
(This is before Anaeris tells him goodbye, so still mid convo)
„Well, these woods are pretty dense, we‘d probably get turned around without some sort of directions. Speed is of the essence though... what‘s the fastest way to the castle ruins from here?“
((answer to Atal))
”Well fastest is all depending on the speed you go, but from here, shortest distance would be a herder’s pass. It starts just northwest of here. I could probably spit and hit it.”