Wings of Fury 2

Zaya nods at Terzi. "Incredibly. Hear plenty of that from my sibling. A doctor and fleshsinger in Zrucan. That's where you're from, right? Surprised to see someone else from home out here. At the same bar. Doing the same thing. By complete chance."

She taps her fingers on the table and shrugs. "My specialty is... ice. Second song. I know. I was born under the Third. Long story."

Zaya looks around at the rest of the rather large group, looking like she's not quite sure what she's gotten herself into here. "...Didn't expect so many people to jump right into this kind of bounty hunting. Seems... niche? Maybe. Should ask what brought you all here."

Comète writes back to Rozenn on the same sheet. "I'll take a look." She simply passes it back, her handwriting halfway between chickenscratch and calligraphy, an elegant chaos.

Once the note's passed back, she looks over to Zaya with a slight smile. "I've been doing this for decades."

"Zrucan, well... I spent most of my life there. It's hard to shake the accent."

Terzi tented her hands.

"I'm wanting to offer my healing expertise- and combat as well, I suppose, though a short staff won't do much against a dragon- in return for access to the Dragon's lair afterwards. I've been researching ruins in the area, and one of interest to me should be in that location. I've made it a hobby to study obscure and ancient applications of the Second Song. Chunadie, with its wine and bright banners, has caught my interest, as it were."

She sighed, lowering her hands to the table.

"It of course could be a false lead. But if so, I'm sure connection to a figure like Sir Henri is one I could explore for access to more archives and libraries. Either way, this is an important step in a long journey, as I see it."

Guillairme acknowledged Avag's introduction with a smile and a "indeed I am, pleasure to make your acquaintance," and just as fast the goblin was off, practically bouncing around the table in his excitement.

Guy accepted the note, reading it with ease. He didn't even have to sound out the letters. Clearly, a man of considerable learning. <Same hometown,> he signed, fingerspelling the latter. "Sir Henri has always been a man of action." He attested, settling in to tell a tale.

"I remember one winter--bitterly cold, and coming in on the tail of a sickly harvest. Henri was just a youth, not even a squire, but he went riding with his father on a hunt. Dire wolves had been spotted, and you can't wait for fair weather to put an end to such beasts. Sir Henri had been given a bow and was meant to stay far from their fangs, but a yearling whelp leapt in on the flank of the formation--"

The door suddenly flew open, and in walked the absolute platonic ideal of a Chunard knight. Rather than being dressed in his full plate armor, Sir Henri de Montenay had opted to wear his more urban attire: a breastplate, a set of frilly breeches, a puffy shirt with an enormous ruff, a gigantic feathered hat, and a pair of dark leather riding boots. His clothes were flamboyantly-dyed in the style of the nobility, and he possessed a pointed well-groomed mustache-goatee combo. He stood at around six feet in height, with lightly tanned skin, brilliant green eyes, and jet black hair. Still only in his thirties, Sir Henry was nevertheless a great and rising knight that was in the prime of his life.

Hand resting gently on the hilt of his bastard sword, he surveyed them all with a grin as he approached the table.

"My friends, my friends!" he said to them in a gregarious, enthusiastic manner. "I am Sir Henri de Montenay, called the Red Thorn of Montenay by some or the Lionslayer by others! You all may call me Sir Henri, and it is my most joyous pleasure to make your acquaintances. My friend here..."

He gestured to Guillairme.

"...will inform me of your names in a moment! I see that you are all enjoying one another's company, so I aim to keep this brief. We are to leave tomorrow, travel several leagues northwest into the Giant's Tail Mountains, navigate to the lair of the great dragon Naissyri, and slay her so that she may stop burning fields, consuming cattle, and extinguishing the lives of farmers. Diplomacy has been attempted already, and has ended in said representative being burned to cinders. In addition, other knights have fallen attempting to kill this menace, so I would ask that all of you refrain from endangering yourselves. Killing her requires special training and equipment, both of which I possess. Should you attempt to intervene, it will likely end in your deaths."

He nodded grimly.

"You may ask why I am bringing you along then? Simply put, I require witnesses to the great and heroic feat I am soon to undertake. You are all people of good repute, and I simply ask that you spread this tale far and wide once our time together is at an end. In addition, you will be well-paid for your time."

He placed his hands on his hips, grinning.

"So, that is it! Tomorrow we leave, but tonight? Tonight we enjoy this salon's fine food and drink! I shall be covering your room, board, and drinks while you are here should you need them, so feel free to avail yourselves. In a few days, we shall face great danger together. If you have any questions, feel free to approach me. I shall be sitting at that table there when not mingling with the other patrons."

He gestured to a booth off to the side, nodded at them all, and went to sit down.

Comète blinks. She takes a second, then sets down her mug.

"I'm going home. See you all in the morning."

Avag looked at the note that had made its way into his hand, and then turned to Rozenn. "Oh! Nice to meet you too, Rozenn! You were the one signing earlier, right?" He started to make a few basic gestures, signing out a couple of quick sentences.

<I know some sign, I can talk. Better at reading. I'm allowed, right?>

At that point, Guillairme had set about telling a story, which caught Avag's attention - and of course he immediately interrupted. "He got his start hunting dire wolves? That sounds exciting! I'll be honest, the one part of this I had my doubts about was working with a knight. A lot of knights are real stuck up, you know? They get mad, like, oh, you shouldn't know sign, you shouldn't be armed, adventurers are just brigands, you should leave protecting our serfs to us, and I'm usually like, well I don't see you doing it! But it sounds like this Henri guy is actually all about getting out there and helping people - I mean, if he's risking his neck to go slay a dragon in order to stop it rampaging around and killing people, and if he's working with adventurers, hey, that's the kind of knight I can get behind-"

Then Sir Henri burst in, gave his speech, and wandered off.

Avag scratched at his head. "Witness the deed, huh?" he said, crossing his arms. After a pause, he reached for the rolled-up poster Guillairme had brought in. "Hang on, let me see that again." He unrolled it, reading aloud. "The red thorn of Montenay seeks stalwart companions for a mission into the Giants Tail. Naissyri's reign of terror shall be ended." He turned back to Guillairme. "Sounds like you're asking to put together a team. Not that I'm above running messages, but if you were looking for this wouldn't asking for bards have made more sense? This ad pulled together some real flash heroes for this one!"

Zaya blankly sips her wine as Sir Henri begins talking himself up. Seriously? Going to fight a presumably fire-breathing dragon dressed in that many loose flammable bits of clothing? Maybe he'd have a more practical set of gear tomorrow. Hopefully. This is the first knight Zaya's actually seen up close.

"Well. Doesn't exactly fill me with confidence. I hope he's actually fought a dragon before. He's paying well. Need the money to get back to Salin. But... also, can't pay us if he's been burned to a crisp. ...Really, though. Calling for adventurers just to have someone tell your story. Real ego trip. Feel like there must be better ways to do this."

Zaya shakes her head and looks at Terzi. "The dragon's lair is on the site of some ruins, though? Interesting. I'm here to learn more about dragons after. Let's say. An odd encounter in the wastes of Salin. Obscure second song knowledge isn't far from what I want to know. Maybe we'll both have something to learn when the dragon is dead. If the dragon is dead. Still not confident we won't be running by the end of this."

The story was regretfully unfinished when Sir Henri burst in. Guillairme's smile sat less easily at the brusque manner Sir Henri addressed the group, a small line of concern furrowing his brow. Of course it was rude, he was nobility--but Guy's could see that it wasn't going over well with all of the foreign talent.

Avag's blunt line of questioning, at least, had a straightforward answer. Several, depending on how diplomatic one was being! The biggest reason was that Sir Henri hadn't wanted to hang around some scruffy third song bards--even worse, they might upstage him.

"Well, it's certainly true that a bard would spin a fine tale...but the Giant's Tail is a dangerous range. An adventurer would be able to keep pace with Sir Henri, and afterwards take the story with them all over the branch."

Terzi noticeably chuckles when Sir Henry calls them all 'people of good repute.' Upon his announcement that he'll cover their room, board, and refreshments, however, she perks up a little and seems to be running some numbers. Zaya pulls her out of her train of thought.

"Hm? Oh, it should be on the site of some ruins. Certainly could just be a cave. But if we're running at the end of this, you and I should split off to confirm. The dragon will be on a rampage in fury, the last thing she'll think to do is return to her cave. Though... I'll admit, it'll be a shame if any of our current company gets caught. Everyone here seems at least pleasant."

She turns away from Zaya to motion to Comète.

"Leaving already? You should at least order some food to leave with. You said you were an armorer? Do you work much with leather?"

"Look, I'd have probably come along anyway," said Avag with a shrug. "Even if I'm not the one doing the good in this case, I'm not gonna turn down some rich guy offering me a big stack of money to watch him kill an evil dragon. It's just this pretense - it's a bit of a trick, right? You can see why, right?"

After a pause, he shrugged and looked around the table. "I mean, sure, I'll stick around. It'll still probably be exciting! Plus, you know, we should probably still come up with a backup plan, in case Mr. Knight gets too overconfident and makes a mistake and we do need to help."

Comète glances over her shoulder at Terzi. "I do. Mostly metal, but I can work leather as well as anyone. If you're interested in a piece, come to the Observatoire Metallique. We offer discounts for people I've adventured with."

Zaya nods to Terzi. "I'd agree. More pleasant than I thought self-describing adventurers would be. For sure. Still, would love to see what's there regardless of what happens. We'll get a chance, I'm sure."

She takes another curious look around the table. Interesting people, the lot of them. She'd love to talk to a fair few, though clustered around a relatively tiny table it was rather hard to know where to even begin on that. The guy with the puppet? The quiet armorsmith? The poster thief? The halfling in the ridiculous hat? So hard to decide. However, one mode of conversation was certainly less than disruptive, and was favored by a member of the party she'd yet to address. Zaya pulled out some paper and began to write neatly in somewhat-broken Chunard before sliding it to Rozenn.

[Hi. Didn't really introduce yet. I'm Zaya. Nice shield. Looks important? What's deal? Not like what we have on Salin.]

Translation charms didn't extend to writing, but fortunately, Zaya had some knowledge of written Chunard from her studies prior to traveling to Alma.

For the first time since she came here, Rozenn's unbreakable smile was shattered! She's deep in a frown, now. It's one complimented by the rest of her face; more sad than judgmental. This was her first big break in Chunard, and now she was finding out she wasn't actually helping people. She was just some... glorified bard. Not particularly heroic, not particularly helpful, and not a particularly nice way to get a start.

She sighs all heavy-like. Very loud, very apparent she's bummed. But then she reminds herself that she can at least play backup. He might not want her to, but she's not bound by duty! Only conviction! She's got this for SURE. So she perks back up! Who cares what this fella thinks anyways? She's gonna do good one way or another!

She gets back to writing!!!

To Avag: "No, that's ok! Thank you for trying :D I really appreciate it! If you'd like, I can give you some lessons sometime to help you get even better at it! I'm definitely disappointed as well, but I'm not really convinced this Henri fellow knows what he's doing. I'm sure he's a lot more experienced than me, but overconfidence can overtake any advantage.' I bet we'll be able to contribute still!"

To Guillairme: "Okay! We'll do our best. You can trust us, Guy. I can ride pretty fast, so maybe Henri'll have to be the one who keeps up!!! >:)"

To Zaya: "Oh!! Nice to meet you -- I'm sure you saw earlier, but I'm Rozenn. As for the shield: It is very important to me!! It's le bouclier de la rose indigo. It's been passed down in my family for centuries! An ancestor of mine was a great hero who fought and died in the War of the True Violet, and warriors in our family have used it ever since. The paint gets retouched every generation. It's like a living record of the dreams the older generations have passed down to us. It's a reminder that our shield is meant to defend the innocent and to guard all that is beautiful in the world! I hope that makes sense -- what did you have on Salin instead?"

Halfway through Henri's briefing, Grok's face falls. It's a great disappointment to know that he's meant to be nothing more than a spectator. He very nearly says something, but bites his tongue at the mention of free food, drink, and lodgings. He can't hide the annoyance on his face, but at least he'll have a fun night tonight (and rack up that pompous knight's tab).

"Well, suppose we should make the most of what's left of tonight," Grok mutters, to anyone who may be listening. He's relieved that Avag had said something about their situation; he'll definitely introduce himself to his goblin companion before he goes to book a room, maybe ask to hear another of his tales of adventure. 

First though, he goes to Rozenn. Hers is the friendliest face of the bunch, and she's already getting to know several members of their group. Maybe if he's lucky he can strike up a chat with everyone before the night's over. 

"Hello again!" he says with a wave, careful not to interrupt Rozenn's other conversations. "You mentioned you were a knight, right? I'm sure you're as disappointed as I am, getting shoved to the sidelines like this."

Rozenn smiles and waves! It's no interruption. She's just collecting notes, taking people's responses, and writing responses for her own. Having to write everything down has its benefits, as it turns out! Like not talking over everyone like a big ol' jerk.

"Yes! And I am. :( It's a sad thing, certainly. But! Heroism is where you find it. Setbacks are annoying, but they aren't going to break my spirit. If he hopes to shake us off and make us nothing but bards, I will simply find other ways to help people. If anything, I'm most disappointed to find the knights of Chunard are more interested in glory then chivalry! Protecting the weak and defeating the evil should be every knight's first priority, not being the stuff of songs."

Holek has no idea what is going on, or who this guy is! Something about, that this guy will get fired on by a dragon? Well, as weird as it is, but good experience for his firey chef singing, so maybe he could tag along.

Holek replies, writing painstakingly: "Greetings, valiant Rozenn! May your days be sweetened and spiced!" and passes the paper back.
He turns to Brom and mumbles "How you like, the soup?"

Brom looks at Rozenn's writing, lifting up his pince-nez glasses for added effect. "She seems polite, that orc. And her calligraphy is impeccable. And also--"

He signs to Rozenn <Greetings! I hope this is a better mode of communication for you!>

"Anyway, your soup? Well, I think its stellar among liquid-legume-kind. The peas just are cooked well enough that they hold their shape but aren't so mushy! I really like the dumplings, so tender and flavorful! What sort of eggs did you use in these delicious doughballs, good sir?"

Holek mumbles "Thankye...", but manages to look proud. "Hmm, well, well..." he tries to answer the question, but ends up frowning. "Justasecond..." and with a sigh, puts on the large puppet on his hand. "Ahha, kind sir! I only use the finest eggs, known to be collected by farmers that have respect for their livestock! In fact, these eggs from one living on the outskirt of this fantastic city, name of Frederic, who sold them in the market under a stall marked by a woodcarving of a Chunard Cheerful: a kind of chicken that is covered in beautiful yellow dots, just like its eggs! With carefully applied fire singing, I managed to bring out the true joy these freefrange fowls feel!".
Phew! That was a bit tiring.

Guillairme's tension eased as the goblin and the knight gave their magnanimous verdicts. "A fine notion indeed, Adventurer Belzren, and eminently practical." Pray for bounty as you plan for famine, as the saying went. He smiled slightly as he stood up, carefully placing the stool back beneath the table before he left. "Sir Henri is a good man, and a valiant warrior...and I shall speak to him of your virtues. Though he asks no more of you now than to spectate and speak, 'twas he who approved the advertisements--do not resign yourselves yet."

Zaya takes a minute to read the note, and begins scribbling down a response.

[Shields - not so common on Salin. Same with heavier armors. Personal combat - rare. Only really seen shields used by guards at Stemspire beetleport. Main reason - not very useful for defending from Dissonance beasts. Heavy armor also detrimental in the wastes. Need to move fast, travel light. Generational part, though - that's more like home. Anything that still works - always passed down. Can't be wasteful. Especially in Zrucan - less contact with other worlds. Most new things got from scavenging wastes. Working artifacts are rare, but scrap materials are useful.

Noble goal, protecting innocent. More sense than seeking glory. Thanks for sharing.]

Zaya passed that long message back to Rozenn, then turned to get a look at the halfling... chef? Speaking through a puppet. Huh. What a weird display. Weird enough that... okay, yeah, she had to ask.

"Uh, hi! You, uh, guy with the puppet. What's with the puppet?"

She also grabbed one of Comète's flyers, out of casual interest.

The puppet chef bows. "Salutations! I will tell you... if you taste this delicious soup!" Holek shall use the newfound knowledge of the art of soup sharing between new friends.

Zaya tilts her head, shrugs, and accepts the gift of soup. She already had a whole bowl of soup for lunch, but... hey, this was different soup. Worth a try.

Sip.

"You made this? It's... good, actually. Interesting flavor. No idea what's in here. So you're... here for dragon slaying? Or. Just sharing soup?" Was soup-sharing a thing on this planet? How odd. Zaya would have to remember that.

"Thank you so much for enjoying my meal! I have put my heart and soul into it, nothing less from a chefsinger." says the chef, the original question hopefully forgotten. "I am unsure what this is about, by I heard there will be frying, so I could tag along to look at the flames, and learn more about them, to create miracle meals! There is quite a lot of you, I could help with enhancing your rations, to get a whole lot more out of something that beings so simple!". Sadly, Zaya has no authority over employment and snacks, but poor Holek doesn't know. He talked loud enough for Gui to hear, at least.

Gui accepts the soup next, taking a delicate sip with the same implement Zaya used. Because germ theory doesn't exist. "My...this is truly delicious. I believe I can speak with certainty here that your talent would be most welcome on this trip, and Sir Henri will surely imburse you to purchase top quality supplies."

He poured a small quantity of the soup into a cup, to bring to Sir Henri. "The dread beast is said to use flames, though they are not divine, they may be of considerable interest to a flamesinger. But divine flames...I know there are several stewards of such--certainly you will find some in Mavillon, should you travel there."