Session 37 - Pitfall Orrey

Ahem.
Previously, across the Horizon...
Celeste Meracydia, old friend to Isa and immediate new friend to the rest of the group, was under attack by a mysterious would-be assassin in broad daylight inside of her office. Had Isa and the others not been present, the cartographer surely would have been murdered.
Fortunately, Isa and the others were there, and the gunbreaker was unable to complete his mission, eventually forced to retreat amid smoke and icy nervous breakdowns and stab wounds and a host of inconveniences.
Before Celeste would consider joining the Starfall to aid them in their immediate and long-term missions, though, she would need to complete her own. In two days, she is to present her findings, her path to the previously-unknown Forgotten city, to the Nanab Foundation, making public the way to the 12th city of Machanon. With the party's help, she just might live to see it.
And with a free day before the presentation, our heroes have time to do a little research on how to get Celeste to the crowning moment of her cartographical life... and perhaps some time to get ready for what comes after.
We join just over half of our party as they prepare for a daunting challenge...
**
"So, this is the Domingo School," Celeste says with a clap of her hands, "and they're going to help you be everything you want to be. ...or at least they would, if you had more than a day." She smiles charmingly.
Celeste, Orrey, Isa, and Yves are at the Domingo Exploratory Academy, which is the size of a full sporting stadium, open to the air (partly cloudy, windy), and full of hurdles, trenches, simulated river rapids, animatronic wildlife, and right in front of Orrey, a trio of climbing walls.
"A day is enough to get the basic idea. Then independent practice would probably be good. Teachers can only do so much to speed up learning. Experience is the best teacher, I've found. I mean, besides books. Nothing better than an instruction manual for learning how to do things." Orrey looks around for said instruction manual.
Celeste’s switched to her training outfit, which is a sleeveless white fleece-lined top, purple tights, fashionable ankle boots (“waterproof!” she proudly declared while showing off the thick treads), and that same dagger strapped to her chest, part of a bandolier that also has bandages, bottles of water, two rolled-up journals, and “the emergency vial,” whatever that is. She's also wearing a green orange climbing harness, matching the one Orrey has. "I mean, normally this is like a three week course, with independent studies specializing in your particular fields. Have you ever used a diving bell? They're delightful." Celeste beams at Orrey, and then gives Yves an encouraging smile. "Do you want to test the walls, too?"
"...s...sure," Yves says, dubiously. He's in his adventuring gear, which is to say, he's not wearing his more dangly piercings right now, and all of his belts are firmly buckled in place.
"Diving bell...that would certainly come in handy for our current job, Isa." Orrey says.
Celeste kicks another harness up from the pile on the ground with her boot, and then does a quick lap around Yves, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "You know, I think we can just put a hook right here," she says, tapping one of the belts looped around the viera's back. "You're already harnessed!"
"Those aren't just decorative?" Orrey asks Yves.
"It would," Isa agrees. Her training gear is the same loose trousers and boots she normally wears, but she's stripped down to a compression tank to free her arms. She looks up at the walls, rolling her shoulders in anticipation.
"Things can be functional /and/ aesthetically pleasing," Yves says. "Like, see, this earring here works as a--" He pauses abruptly. "I should probably check local laws before I talk about that one. Anyway, lots of things are multi-purpose. There's no reason for functional things /not/ to look good."
"Now, everyone climbs best with motivation," Celeste says, rolling her shoulders to loosen them up. "Isa, if I beat you up the second wall, you have to tell me the most dangerous thing you've done since I last saw you. What do you want if you win?"
Isa thinks about this. "Remember that bottle we had when we snuck out of the junior symposium in '51?"
Yves looks sidelong at Orrey. "...do you want to bet too, or do you think they'll just start throwing things at us if we climb too slowly?" he whispers.
The sylph blushes amber, and she tries to fight that with a laugh. "I'll have you know I was a model student in every other circumstance!"
"I mean, maybe you and me could bet against each other...but I'm not going up against either of them. OH! We could bet on THEM!" Orrey smiles.
Isa smiles. "Don't lose, then."
"Dibs on Isa," Yves mutters promptly. "Right, stakes?"
Orrey sighs. "Fine, uh...if I win you have to wear your black mage hat for a week."
(somewhere many streets away, there is a distant squee of glee)
Yves thinks about this. "...okay, but if I win, you have to find a way to keep Bast's captain hat on him for two full meetings with strangers."
(and more squee)
"Hoooo...that will be rough. I accept." Orrey and Yves shake on it to seal the bet. "Now, how do we get to the top of this most shortest of walls?" Orrey examines the hand- and foot-holds dubiously.
Celeste helps secure Yves and Orrey to the safety line, and then gets one last stretch in. "We go on three, and that's one-two-three and we go, not one-two-three-go. Three beats. Go on the third one. Does that make sense? Of course it makes sense." She sets her jaw.
"One. Two. Three!"
Elsewhere, in Thalatte...
...where, precisely, did Bast and Linnet end up going for their information gathering?
Bast drops by Chmurka's cabin before heading out, unceremoniously stealing the short viera's attention from her notes. "Hey. We're going to see if we can't find out more about that assassin we sent packing, probably start in the harbor to get our bearings. Want to stretch your legs a bit?"
"Sure," she says, clambering down from her chair. She's been sitting on a chair on top of multiple other boxes, as if gargoyling at people is somehow going to keep her safe.
"Great." He glances behind at Linnet, who's been absorbed in a book for the past few hours. "You ready?"
Chmurka pulls on a fur-lined coat that is entirely too large for her and zips it up until it covers the bottom half of her face. "Where to?"
The book is temporarily serving as a vessel for a tourist pamphlet so that it doesn't blow away in the wind. "Huh? Right. Sure thing, Cap'n." (The pictures are lovely, the writing singularly unhelpful for anyone wishing to learn anything practical about Thalatte.)
"Unless you know anyone useful around here, I was thinking a tavern or two to get the lay of the land and see where we'll want to head next. 'Where do you go to hire a semipro assassin around here?' seems a bit premature."
"Probably not the Museum of Exploratory History, unless they're a lot more proactive than most museums," Linnet says.
"We're not in the Triad, so I don't have a network here or anything." Chmurka thinks for a moment. "Which is also why I'm going outside. I don't think Thalatte's much of the tavern sort. If you want to go where the people are, you want to go to Sapphire Row. If you want to learn something about an explorer, you go to the Nanab Foundation. If you want to learn more about things that aren't people, you go to the Museum. If you want to learn about sailors, you go to the Harbor. ..I mean, that's just what I read on the way in."
Bast stops to think for a moment. "...alright, the harbor's probably not where whoever hired him hangs out, but maybe we can pick up the trail there. Sapphire Row after, I'm thinking, and keeping Nanab on the list in case this is someone close to home who's really not keen on that presentation."
Linnet marks her place with the useless brochure and slides the adventure novel into her bag. "Right. Can we get out of here so I can stop having flashbacks about flaming bookshelves?"
Ducorde’s eastern harbor, a forest of ships waiting to try to find what lies beyond the horizon. Almost anything you could need for a sailing ship can be found here, though no weapons; cannons can only be had on special order from Koehnta. Thalatte is a city of explorers, not a city of conquerors. There is an altar to the goddess Thalatte here, ringed by seven torches, burning day and night as a lighthouse to guide travelers home.
There is a cluster of people at the altar, and a group of eight dancing moogles by a very large ship with black sails.
Linnet naturally drifts in the direction of the dancing moogles, almost without realizing it.
Bast ambles slowly past the altar to see if anything more interesting than upcoming journeys is being discussed, keeping an eye on Linnet.
Most everyone around the altar is the same height -- a large group of humans that all seem to know each other -- so the tip of the dragon-winged spear that extends a full head and a half above them stands out to Bast, not least because he's seen it before, as well as the woman who is carrying it on her back.
The moogles are dancing. Quite well! Quite energetically. And as Linnet watches...
...she can only marvel at the talent involved, just like the other people gathering around.
The dance is not uniform between the eight moogles; instead, they move as if there is a singular force weaving through them, a bit of energy that is animating them all in turn, a central beat that drives them forward, Linnet's eyes able to track the power that fuels these excited moogles.
Each moogle is dressed in a green tunic, white pants, shiny black boots, and a large red hat with a chocobo feather in it, bouncing in time with the others around it.
Past Linnet's shoulder, a man whispers to another, "D-do you think I could also be a Dancer?"
His friend offers no reply, just watching.
Linnet scales a lamppost for a better view, balancing on one foot on the base of the post and watching the pattern from above. Well, further above.
Deciding that this is a company where Things might be Happening, Bast steps closer to the altar and bows his head. His mind is more on obscure weaponry than any upcoming voyages.
The performance ends, and the crowd shudders a little, as if jarred from a nap. The moogles bow, and in unison declare, "Our dance troupe will return in eight nights' time! Be well, brave explorers!"
They then turn and walk along the dock to their ship, a weight in each step, reminding Linnet of nothing so much as the puppet shows her library put on for children once a week.
The red-haired Cardian from the Valles Estate auction turns and leaves the altar behind, walking toward the rest of the city with purpose, a few glares from the others once her back is turned.
From the map Bast looked over, she's heading in the direction of either the Museum or the Nanab Foundation.
**
Isa is off her mark before the syllable of the final count has finished leaving Celeste’s mouth. She takes this seriously - her initial leap is not a Dragoon-assisted jump but still leaves her hanging from a high hold. The muscles in her shoulders and back bunch and shift as she pulls up, getting her boots into position. She does not have a great deal of sophistication in her climbing style; relying on upper body strength and height to skip up the wall with all the grace of a climbing gorilla. Still, it’s fast.
Celeste is trying entirely too hard to impress, her eyes constantly going up to Isa instead of her own handholds. Seven minutes and two-thirds of the wall later, she slips, banging her knee into one of the rubber handholds, and then swings back away from the wall, hanging from her harness, laughing. "You didn't tell me you'd been training!" she calls up after her friend.
Orrey methodically climbs to the top, unexpectedly not getting stuck on the way up even though he had to slightly jump up at one point to reach just a BIT beyond his full extension. Then he takes a breath and kicks off the wall to somehow perfectly rappel down. His eyes open in shock as he lands easily. "THIS IS SO COOL!"
Yves, meanwhile, is at war with the auto-belayer. It's always just a little too fast, or a little too slow, for his cautious, deliberate approach to the bunny slope of climbing walls. By the time he pulls himself to the top, and taps the little bell, he's frowning deeply.
"Really oughta work on that tension handling," he mutters, and then goes for the world's least dramatic kick-rappel back down again. "...of course, this is why I bet on Isa, and not on /me/..."
Celeste lowers herself all the way to the ground, until she's sitting in the dirt and laughing sheepishly. "Well, now I've been shown up."
Isa spools slowly down, holding the line with one hand to steady herself. "Yeah, but I still can't write poetry."
Yves, touching down, mouths "Glue?" at Orrey silently.
"The offer to ghostwrite poetry for you still stands," Celeste says up to Isa. "In case anyone ever warrants it."
"I think I'm going to have to win a bet against him." Orrey shakes his head as he accepts the loss.
Celeste gets back up to her feet. "Well, maybe one of you can just carry me to the Forgotten when we go."
"It's a rough route?"
"I was telling Orrey about it over dinner," Celeste answers as she leads the group toward another obstacle. "It's honestly quite perilous, from what my maps tell me. A multiple-day travel through the mountains, and there's something in the strata that prevents airships from functioning, so you can't take any shortcuts. I'm hoping once I'm on the ground there I can find a shorter and simpler way, but I know this one will work."
Isa looks at Orrey. "Huh. I have to admit, peril that we're aware of and prepared for would be new for us."
"What /sorts /of things in the strata?" asks Yves. "In what way do they stop functioning? All types of airships, new and old? Any other effects on magitech that have been documented? How well has it been documented, if so? Is there a writeup that--god of void, what's in that moat?"
"What kind of people will be interested in going to the City of the Forgotten?" Orrey glances over at Isa, knowing that they shared a moment a while back where they connected over their worship of that god.
"It's been theorized that it's some sort of negatively aspected wind crystal lode, but that's speculation from miles away. All kinds, though they stopped testing low-magic wooden ships after a party was lost in a blizzard two years ago. Some of it appears to work better in the region than others, but no one knows why or how. Student level documentation, there's no glory to be had in 'something weird happens in this place no one goes,' and that's a corn-based gelatin, basically? It'll pull you down and hold you there, but you can breathe, it almost solidifies around you if you're sucked in. So be careful," she says, handing Yves a rope. "You're going to swing over to the far side and then jump. As for who will be going," she says to Orrey, "I imagine anyone and everyone! It's the mystery of a hundred generations, after all. The Forgotten City! I'm sure it will get more visitors and write-ups than the rest of Machanon put together!" She's beaming at the thought.
"Okay but what if we constructed a rudimentary bridge over the gelatin moat," Yves says.
"Not if it's that hard to get to, it won't," Isa says.
Orrey nods agreement. "And what will the inhabitants think of this wave of visitors? It seems like they've gone to some trouble to keep the city inaccessible."
"Once we sort out the initial trip to the Forgotten City -- no bridges, just bounces, Yves -- we can find out if people live there. If they do, they surely have to be able to leave, to get food and supplies and things. Once we find that path, then everyone who believes can go."
"In a real adventure, I would build a bridge," Yves mutters, gripping the rope and eyeing the moat.
Isa considers this. "Maybe. They could be self-sufficient. Or it could be abandoned. Won't know until we get there."
"The first group will probably be 10-15 people, but a full team of surveyors and engineers would follow, for shoring up the path," Celeste says, taking three more ropes from a bored-looking tonberry and distributing them. "This is all in my plans, at least, on putting together what team would go. The rumors so far -- you always let a rumor get out, it builds anticipation -- would have some one to two hundred people campaigning to be part of the first group.
Isa takes one of the ropes. "And how long would that take to put together?"
Celeste tugs on her rope. "And there are plenty of mountains and paths like this up there. It's almost like something just cut half the range in two, leaving this thin canyon right between them."
"So that campaigning time gives us time to get ready and beat everyone there." Orrey says.
"Oh, planning? I don't know that it'd go until late summer, maybe three months from now? You know how dodgy winters in Cardia can be. Okay! Who's ever swung from a rope before? It's easier than you think, and don't worry, the moat washes right out with a little effort."
**
The Cardian's path is definitely taking her toward the Museum.
Bast, stirred from his apparent devotions, looks after the Cardian's retreating back and mutters loud enough for the assembled crowd to hear: "...who pissed on her parade?"
(Linnet can still see Bast from the lamppost, but she's watching the dancers and the crowd rather than Bast and Chmurka.)
"She showed up and threatened the shrine!" one of the assembled sailors says, throwing dirty looks at the spearwoman's back. "Said she'd prove herself and then cast Her back into the depths where She belongs, the heathen."
"Sooner she leaves the better," another gripes.
"That sounds like a rare kind of stupid. Or...cult of some sort?"
"Ill omen," someone else says. "No chance she gets on my ship."
They continue muttering amongst themselves.
Bast shakes his head with a sigh, then perks up as if having remembered something. "Hey - have you heard about that dust-up at the Foundation?"
"Oh, yeah! Do you think she was involved? She was probably involved. Can't trust 'em, trying to take out our brave explorers..."
With the dancers boarding their ship, the crowd there is dispersing.
"Don't know about her, but I actually saw someone running from there! Crying and coughing up a storm, looked like he was dressed for a party but got tossed down the stairs." Bast gives them a tolerably clear description of the assassin, interspersed with commentary, and watches for any signs of recognition.
No one appears to have any idea who that would be, and aspersions continue to be cast in the Cardian's direction for her disrespect for Thalatte.
"Hey, help out a fellow traveler? What's the deal with Sapphire Row? My first time here, and everyone tells me to go see it."
The swarthiest viera Bast has ever seen sidles up. "Sapphire Row's where you go if you need to buy anything before your journey. You can get almost anything there, 'cept weapons & people -- and I don't mean anything creepy by that, I mean no one goes hirin' at the Row, that's all. But if you need a few spools o' rope or a fine violin, that's where you go."
"Aah. Fancy shops, not your basic cable'n'pitch?"
"No, you got those too. Anything you need for your trip, you'll find there."
Bast nods at that. "Sounds different from what I'm used to. Guess I'll make some time. By the by, was there a ship sunk somewhere around here recently? Heard a couple of people talking like it was the captain's fault, but if there's trouble of some sort..."
The viera shrugs. "Nothin' I heard about. ...and that's one of my boys tryin' to start something. Smooth seas to ya," as he leaves.
"Fair winds to you, and in that Cardian's teeth." Conversation exhausted, Bast wanders over to Linnet to see if she's found anything interesting on her own.
Linnet is still on the lamppost, having scribbled down the name of the ship; she's currently listening to the crowd for a murmur of anyone who knows what the hell that was.
The ship is named the Phantom Verse. From what Linnet has gathered, it's a moogle dance troupe. No one finds this weird or anything.
"Cap'n!" Linnet hops down off the post and salutes Bast. "Do we have any leads on anyone doing mind control dance-magic rituals?"
"Not that I've heard, no. That troupe?"
"Yes. Nobody seems to think it's weird, but...they were like puppets. If someone could control eight marionettes at once without strings. I'm not sure I want to barge onto the ship and ask questions, and I don't know if it's related to Celeste's, uh, guest... But there was definitely at least some minor glamorie going on there, if not full-on hypnosis. It might have been just a distraction, might have been something more sinister."
"Oh, for an Apoc when you need him. You want to make some friends, or leave this alone for now?"
"Ho there!" booms an uncomfortably familiar voice from the northern road. "You two don't look local, and I worry that a friend of mine may have been making the locals feel a tad unsettled. You wouldn't have happened to see a human with red hair, about yay high, about yay wide, spear with wings about yay fly?"
**
“Whip your legs forward at the end, or you won’t have enough forward momentum,” Isa advises. She braces herself on the edge, launches herself up and back, and pulls her knees up as she sails out over the moat.
Yves tries a run-and-jump and... well, maybe he misunderstood what 'whip your legs' meant. Or maybe his legs just didn't read the memo he sent to them. Regardless, there's a lot of bouncing going on, and a certain amount of muffled shrieking.
Orrey manages to swing out over the moat, but looks like he's going to short the jump, so he just hangs on...and on...and on...and the rope swings less and less as he just hangs there holding tight. "What do I do now?"
Celeste's roll is almost graceful, in that she lands in a roll on the bouncy liquid/solid hybrid, and then she slaps the surface of it with one open palm, frustrated, as the mixture half-heartedly attempts to claim her. Above her, Isa is successful. Down here, Celeste is not.
Isa just barely gets her boots onto the far end, and stabilizes herself before looking back. She covers a chuckle at Yves and Celeste in the moat, and then looks up at Orrey. "Oh shit," she says with deep amusement. "Well, you can let go. Or I can try to come get you and we could both get stuck."
Celeste grumbles her way toward the ladder leading up to the platform, gesturing for Yves to head along in front of her as they both struggle through the moat.
"Can I just pump back and forth like a playground swing?" Orrey stares down in distress at the moat.
Yves, flailing through the moat, offers, "I bet the right spell would get you moving again."
"Can't hurt to try!"
Yves raises a hand, sparks flickering on his fingers, and then realizes Isa probably meant that in response to Orrey, not him.
Orrey gets a good rhythm going, letting go at the end, but just shorts the edge of the moat. He uses his momentum to somersault over to the edge before sinking, though.
Isa meets Orrey at the edge and reaches down to help him up. "Hey, good try."
"So I'm thinking I need a few refresher courses," Celeste says as she climbs the ladder, more than a little shame in her voice.
Orrey smiles. "Thanks. This is going to take some serious training before we'll be able to do this. Unless...can you make the initial climb and then we set some ropes or something to make it easier for those of us who are a bit less capable or something?"
"Yes, Isa, do clear everything for us and then carry us?" Celeste asks, almost batting her eyelashes. "I can work on the map while riding on your shoulders."
"Or we could host a bridge-building seminar," Yves suggests, shaking his head rapidly so that his ears thwack wildly about like the sides of a spinning toy. A spray of corn-based gelatin threatens to drench anyone who's avoided grain fluidity so far today.
"What about a non-airship flying machine? Like a kite or a glider or something?" Orrey asks.
"Lo, the noble A-frame," Celeste agrees with Yves.
"We'll work on more training as well. A practice wall is one thing, a mountain in a blizzard is another," Isa says.
"Maybe we can find a secret path that sidesteps all of the crazy mountain climbing blizzards?" Orrey asks "That would be ideal..."
"Or we could provide some training blizzards," Yves says, with a little more enthusiasm at this thought. "Linnet's good at those."
Celeste brightens back up, previous failures forgotten. "Oh, yes, the blizzard course! Follow me! And, uh, get a towel."
**
Familiar voices aren't what Bast is looking for here.
"Wait. I know you!"
Not better. He glances over at the newcomer.
The voice's owner bounds forward, clapping his hands together and then holding his arms out in the universe "come get a hug" gesture. "My bandit chums!" Liga Kine exclaims.
"Well, look what the chocobo dragged in. How the hell are you, Liga?" Linnet jumps into the hug.
Bast forgoes the hug in favor of a raised finger and an interrogative expression. "...what happened to the chocobo accomplices? I'm guessing you didn't ride them here."
"And what have you been doing with yourself since we all got kicked out of Caerwyn?"
"I have fared well after our farewell!" Liga booms, spinning Linnet around and then depositing her next to Bast, whom he greets with a snappy salute. "I have been putting together a squad!"
Linnet cranes her neck but fails to spot smartly uniformed chocobos.
"Sounds like you've got something big in mind." Bast smiles despite himself. "What's the latest adventure?"
"No chocobos. My chocobo friends now live life free on the plains, with all the gysahl greens they could ever want! Ah, to be a bird of the plains, nesting wherever I please, wearing only the most beautiful feathers possible... 'tis but a dream! A dream that I cannot have, more is the pity. But there is no time for pity! The pity party has passed! The RESCUE PARTY has formed!"
He's pointing at the sky.
Linnet follows the pointing finger. "Sorry, who are you rescuing, and from whom? Or what?"
"For I have assembled a team of brave mercenaries and bosom pals who will aid me in aiding you! Your friend, Book Boy. His father, ripped from his family by vile miscreants! I promised my aid should he need it, and when he did not call I still could not sit idly by!"
(Linnet nearly overbalances while looking up at the sky. That much hair is heavy.) "My friend, we present you with the greatest of news. I think. As far as we are currently aware, that particular innocent is back with his family and unharmed. But." (Significant dramatic pause.) (With an expression of "there's more to the story, do you want to hear it?")
"Forsooth and for truth? Under his own roof?"
"...yeah, he has been ripped from the vile miscreants by a fortunate confluence of events and is back with his family now. But you know, someone just tried to assassinate another friend right in front of us?"
"...wait, sorry, the cartographer was the innocent. The person setting the fire is the one doing the persecuting. And needing to be persecuted." Linnet shakes her head vigorously to clear it. "In any case. Are you and your spiky and temporarily misplaced friends gainfully employed at the moment? And if not, are you open to a mission proposal? And possibly some lunch? Not gysahl greens."
"I would love to! It may take too much time to assemble my crack squad of brave warriors at this moment, but I assure you they will gladly accompany me. Would you like to hear of them? I would then love to hear more about your friends, including the ones who have not had fire set upon them recently." Liga hops from one foot to the other, clearly overjoyed to have seen them again.
Linnet takes Liga's arm in a gesture of instant camaraderie. "Captain, can we devote a bit of this afternoon to trading stories over some lunch?"
"That sounds more useful than sifting the city for leads. What's a good place to eat around here, my friend?"
"As you know, the ideal adventuring party is one that numbers four, with two designated damage dealers, one dispenser of tasty heals, and then a sort of large sponge for attracting attention and stab wounds. As you would also know, I am by my nature a dashing rogue with a deft arm and a surplus of serendipitous stabbing sashays, so of course I fill the roll of attacking expert." Liga pulls Bast in for a companionable arm-drape, though he has to lean far over to the side for it to work. "After that, I was so inspired by your Cardian friend that I simply had to go find one of my own, and what do you know, I did! And apparently she was also at the auction, can you even understand the size of the world. Genevieve Doutin. She wields a Valles spear! Fine craftsmanship. She's a bit spiky -- she is the spikes of which I earlier spoke -- but she seems a good sort deep down!"
"...red hair, abrasive personality?" Linnet asks.
"Has something against Thalatte?" Bast adds.
"After that, of course, the master of healing ceremonies had to be found, and I do admit that I found mine in prison but honestly, who hasn't. Yes, that's the one! Have you seen her? Now, anyway, my healie warlock. He's the fuzziest moogle you ever did see! He made his own evil bat wings, they're precious, and he wears a mask that he painted silver horns on. Henry Montagon, a talented horticulturist too. A big ol' softy."
"Sounds like a well-balanced motley crew. Which ones did you lose?"
"But that still left the role of pincushion!" Liga says, leading them along toward a seafood place. "And fortunately, I met someone just two days ago here! He's quite new to the region, but was looking to protect his family from an invading force, he says, which seems quite bad for everyone involved, and he refused my help that evening, saying it was a task he had to take care of himself. Friendly fellow! Quite handsome. He had the oddest blade I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of odd blades, bit of a collector. It had this... firing mechanism on it!"
...Linnet stops in the middle of the sidewalk.
"He's quite proud of it, says it's a family weapon. I'm sure he'd be happy to show it to you! Was one of you an engineer? I can't quite recall. Anyway -- Serenye Voda! I have his name written down just in case. I don't know where he is right now, but he said he'll be ready to leave after tomorrow. Would that work for you for a departure time? Oh! Silly me," he says, slapping his forehead. "We're keeping someone here safe! Tell me, who are they and who threatens them?"
"...let's get off the street to have this conversation, yes? Possibly somewhere with alcohol. I think we're all going to need it."
"Sounds like a plan."
"Ooh, crepes and mimosas? Count me in."
"Delightful! I am sure we will all be the best of friends!"
And with that... End session.