A Veiled Journey

There is perhaps no other city in the known world that is the equivalent of Tashraan. Legend says it even endured the Demon Wars with 'minimal' destruction, at least by the standards of that centuries-old conflict. Colorful, vibrant, and alive, it's people thriving on the coast of the dune-seas by the use of its rivers and, of course, a whole lot of canals for irrigation.

There is never a time the harbor is not busy, the tea-houses not vibrant and full of people seeking brief shade from the ever-oppressive heat. In the markets, performance is never far from one's ear, be it the haggling of merchant and spender or the work of a musician or dramatist seeking to ply their own trade. There are armed troupes everywhere, from all over the world, as well, and thus your band blends in just fine here. No one bats an eyelash. Much as it is in Alexandria, Tashraan too profits on the trade of arms and services.

A Tea House, the Golden Savior, is your present locale. It's just where you're waiting for the preparations to be finished.

The Gobbo is covered from head to toe in black robes, with a hood up, as well as a full veil, to protect against heat, the sand in the wind, and remain mostly anonymous.

"It has been a long time since I have been in my homeland.", Acedia says, mostly to herself. "I think I know why you chose Taashran and this teeming throng of humanity. Even you would have difficulty sticking out, here, even if you intentionally tried.", Ace says to Seldan, chuckling. She gestures to the teahouse around them. "Not a bad spot here, either."

Malik is here with them, this time. And the first thing that one might notice about the dour wizard is -- he is not dour. Not even a little bit. The clothes he wears are brightly colored, thin fabrics meant to keep the sun off of skin, but release heat easily enough, silken and shining, rather than the drab woolen things he normally wears adventuring. And the bright clothes are even outshined by the bright smile the man wears, leaning close to some of the locals and sharing what seems to be a bawdy joke, from the laughter that erupts from them.

There's tea and food in front of him, something spicy from both the look and the smell. The wizard, in this city, seems somehow more alive than he ever managed to be in Alexandria, easy and comfortable here, rather than guarded and tense. Those that met him in Alexandria might think the tsuran is a completely different person -- a disguise that isn't even a disguise at all.

All of this time, Seldan has been most careful not to interact with anyone or anything unless he absolutely must, and when ht does appear, he looks very different, and very unremarkable, with plain, straight brown hair and eyes, and armor that is plain and more than a little beaten up. Malik seems to have taught him a thing or two about being unremarkable. His holy symbol is tucked into his armor, his own face, hair, and armor covered by headgear and loose tabards typical of a warrior in the desert, bright colors similar to Malik's. This time, he is the quiet one, the tense one, where Malik is cheery and relaxed, and has little to say.

Zeke, contrary to his normal mode of dress, is wearing armor. It doesn't seem to weigh him down much, but it is out of the ordinary for him. One can not change however that he is a giant blue-scaled sith-makar. Indeed, he might stand out for this virtue alone, but Zeke is well-skilled in the art of keeping to himself, and going unnoticed in spite of his size. He says very little, and sinks into the shadows where its possible. Though here that's more difficult than he is used to.

He does have a quarterstaff near at hand, something that he nominally uses for helping carry himself along, and his crystal limbs are carefully wrapped under bandages at the moment. All to keep him unobtrusive and hopefully unnoticed.

It isn't much longer waiting before your last requests are ready to be picked up from the market. You've had enough time, and there's very little that can not be found in Tashraan without asking. Still, even with the presence of the Veil amongst you hiding at least Seldan, one has to be worried about the eyes that are upon you all in Tashraan. You never have the feeling that you *aren't* being watched.

...except for Seldan, who is definitely not being *seen*, let alone watched, very much.

Still, you'll be able to be on your way shortly.

If Seldan isn't being seen, he isn't being heard, either. He does not answer Acedia, not now, although he smiles tightly, a half-hearted thing, at the lighthearted discussion, and nudges her just often enough that she still knows he's there. He does this occasionally with Malik and Zeke as well, gently tapping toes or poking ribs. They know he is there, but he says nothing, and seems no interest in drawing other eyes to his presence.

Acedia is definitely grumbly at this point, and she slouches in her chair. After a bit longer, she begins to console herself with sneaking bits of food from Malik.

"Whomever the bad guy is at the end of all this is really going to get bit. And a good kicking to the shin."

Malik doesn't turn *all* the way to Seldan. But he does that half turn, eyes flicking to the side and offering the man the soft, contented smile that he offers, his way of showing support and readiness. Especially as the items they ordered arrive, and it seems the last of their preparations are underway.

"Alright," he says, pushing his plate to Acedia and looking to Zeke. "Are we ready to do this? Any last arrangements that need to be made?" A look between the two-really-three of them. "We might not be in a city for some time."

Zeke waits a bit impatiently, his tail flick-flicking behind him. It's unsettling... to notice people not-notice Seldan. But it's for the best, and for the most part they fail to notice him either. Which is also for the best. Let them focus on Malik and Acedia who are amongst them the least notably remarkable. "Thisss one isss ready." He responds to Malik. Past ready.

GAME: Seldan rolls 1d100: (41): 41

As had been his habit, Seldan had not answered verbal, but a silent telepathic message to Malik was enough to say that he, too, was ready. Silence until they have all gathered their things and returned to the flat that Malik and Seldan share. He reappears once all of the curtains have been drawn and everything is hidden, maintaining that plain-brown-wrapper appearance that he seems to have adopted, but tense and quiet.

Once all of his gear and everyone's gear has been gathered, he speaks for the first time, low and quiet. "Are all prepared? If so, I shall begin. This much can I do."

He begins, once all have acknowledged, to draw sigils in the air, a meticulous and precise arrangement that Malik will recognize as him stitching together pieces of known and unknown, calling in the precession a matrix of points that underpins his destination to the Sea of Mana itself, a thing only necessary when one has not personally been to the destination.

Malik is perfectly willing to ride along for most of the journey, trusting Seldan to get them to the furthest reaches that he knows of. Beyond that, though, it's up to the wizard to make their final leap. He gathers the energy of the spell into himself, visualizing everything that Seldan has told him to the Forest of Whispers, everything that he has learned of the place since, everything that he thinks it should be. Making it as real in his mind's eye as he can, recalling the image created through hours of work. With a word, the space around them seems to twist and warp, their bodies occupying impossible shapes in an impossible space for the span of a heartbeat, then springing back unharmed as Malik attempts to force two spaces to exist in the same place at once, depositing them on the other side.

The Goblin simply hangs onto Zeke's real leg, nice and tightly, having had to be dissuaded from using her belt to lash herself to the blue-scale Sith.

Aside from a few surprised sounding noises, Ace handles the teleportation spells fairly well, though the knuckles of her wee hands be nearly white from the death-grip she has on that leg.

GAME: Malik rolls 1d100: (78): 78

Zeke stands surely, a secure shelter in the storm of their transport. Holding onto his own staff firmly. Holding onto Acedia with his free claw as well. Her fear is not his fear, but he can help her through it by being a solid thing for her to hold onto.

Stjepan waits, armed for war yet all are safety stowed in the upright and locked position. He takes a couple of calming breaths and waits for the transition.

Boldly going where you've not gone before by teleport has its risks. Even the best wizards, such as Malik, are taking a chance when you do so. Taking a chance you'll wind up wildly off course.

This is what happens, in this case, as you appear just on the crest of a hill, overlooking said forest. A massive and gloomy looking thing, the Forest of Whispers more than earns its name at a glance. It's all tall, blackened trees and hardwoods, you know, primal in every sense of the word and more than a little visibly *eerie*. The way the branches cast their shadows gives the impression all too frequently of people or ... things observing you from them ... even at this distance.

But that's besides the point. The point is that you've arrived just near one of the larger Charnish forts that sits on the border-range of the forest, no doubt to observe it.

... it is presently on fire.

Malik takes in the scene before him, looking to the others as he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. "This building is on fire," he states the obvious, "and it is not my fault."

Once the teleports are done, Seldan takes a moment of silence to reorient himself, but then comes up beside Malik and places a hand on his shoulder, mentally willing himself to be visible and audible to his traveling companions only. "A watchtower? We should offer aid, and yet -" He looks away, clearly torn.

The Gobbo continues to cling tightly, her face buried in Zeke's leg. Slowly, she dares look around, her nose wrinkling as it works at the air. "Yep, something's burning, certainly." She blinks a few times. "That you have to state what should obvious leads me to believe that at times, the fire /is/ your fault.", Ace says with a giggle.

She glances at Seldan. "Where... exactly are we? Would it be safe, I mean, not raise too much attention, if we were to lend aid?"

Stjepan flexes his knees, and stands there for a moment. "We should not -- otherwise, we create a trail for others to follow." A pauses. "There is still the extant question of what /did/ set the fort on fire."

Zeke looks at the flames. "Thisss one doesss not think that we dare risssk Sseldan in sssuch an effort. If there are any to be sssaved..." He looks at Malik. Then Aceida. "We are hisss handsss and hisss tail in thisss. If any are to be sssaved it mussst be usss that do the sssaving."

Here he looks at Stejepan. "We can not afford either to be without mersscy. Though you asssk a wissse quesstion. There may be none to sssave at all."

GAME: Malik rolls Perception: (3)+23: 26
GAME: Acedia rolls perception: (10)+11: 21
GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (11)+25: 36
GAME: Zeke rolls perception: (10)+4: 14

"Do I not find myself mistake, we are near to the edge of the Forest of Whispers, and the border of Charn," Seldan answers. "I know not if it be safe to render aid or nay, but we would be wise to learn what set it, and both wise and kind to render what aid we may. I shall not be left behind." His tones are steady and even, and he leaves his hand on Malik's shoulder, reaching as well for whoever else is in reach.

... well, it's a big old raging inferno at the moment. That much is obvious. You can hear the sounds of people, yes. They're fighting the fire, and it does sound like they're in the midst of an alarm. It is perhaps the one thing that has really kept them from noticing you, that big old blaze.

Still, you can hear screams and the pain of the injured. The situation is not under control, but given the barking of orders and speaking of evacuations, it doesn't appear that there's no command structure in place either. Crashing sounds from the fort. It's not a huge thing, no. It's just a border outpost. A central tower with a wall around it, some ancillary buildings, barracks more than likely.

There's no clear indication what started the fire on a surface level...

Malik reaches up, touching Seldan's hand. And with his other, he draws forth a pure, white wand, something that looks well cared for. "Go," he whispers. "See what aid you can render. Bring the wounded here, and I'll offer what aid we can manage." Though as his eyes travel upward, a frown crosses his ace, studying the shapes and hues of the flames in that distant way that he is known for. "Alchemy," he sighs. "Hot and deadly, then. Have a care."

"Well, there is nothing I can do about the fire. What I can do is help those who are wounded escape. And render aid and comfort." She looks to the others, and upon hearing Malik's words, the Gobbo takes a hold of Seldan's hand. Gobbo-limpet successfully transferred.

Stjepan stays back as well, his visage disappearing into a monotonous brown -- light brown skin, darker hair, limpid brown eyes. He's still tall, but not as tall as before, and just really unremarkable. At least, that's what he's going for. Just another mercenary who eats on account of his size. He looks in Seldan's direction. "Maybe we should refrain from contact." He starts scanning for further signs of how the fire started.

Zeke seems at once uncertain of himself. He needs to aid those who are amid the flames, but to leave Malik undefended. He looks at Stejepan. "Ssstay with Malik?" He asks of the other man. Who doesn't really seem to want to go anyways. "Thisss one mussst go at leassst. Thisss one can not abandon thossse who are wounded and dying." He moves toward the tower.

And no accident," Seldan agrees, scowling and returning the touch on his hand. "We will not be able to stop the fire." His eyes turn to Stjepan, and he hesitates. "I cannot in good conscience leave them without what aid I may provide, and yet I would not -" he trails off, clearly torn.

-TBC