Grisht - Mercantile Interests

A letter arrives from the Veyshanti embassy. Not directly, of course. Such things aren't DONE in Veyshan, unless prestige is at stake. Until then, it's closely guarded, secrets kept--even when they don't need to be.

It smells of tea leaves.

Well, then. It seems you're expected--at the Veyshan embassy, no less. The color of the paper bears a faint hue along the edge. The color of blue, or water--suggesting peace. From this and other details he's able to discern it's to be a formal-yet-informal affair, and that he should arrive, prepared to purchase.

You're due to leave within the hour, and a man stands outside, ready to escort you when you're ready. Boshter looks worse for wear, though thanks to your recent, quick thinking, he isn't declining as quickly as he COULD.

Arubesh's letter to the Navosians has gone through--though no reply has come to light, yet.

"Chord Boshter," Silmeria sighs, hefting her pack as she makes for the stairs of the Temple, "are you *certain* you should be up and about? The whole point of keeping you about to serve the Lady *here* would be rendered rather moot if you got yourself killed running about the city..."

Arubesh has reconnected.

"Chord Boshter," Silmeria sighs, hefting her pack as she makes for the stairs of the Temple, "are you *certain* you should be up and about? The whole point of keeping you about to serve the Lady *here* would be rendered rather moot if you got yourself killed running about the city..." (re)

Arisha says, "Sister has a point, Boshter. Are you sure you're feeling all right?" she says as she has her arms crossed, standing near a doorway to the catacombs."

"Of course!" Boshter is jogging in place.

"I need to stay active! The demands of my body are high!"

Sniff. Sniff.

JUMPING JACKS.

You paged Boshter with 'Boshter's missing about 4 pts of con by now, as a heads-up. Just keeping numbers loose re: story. So he's sweatin'.'

Sweat runs down Boshter's arms and skin as he does. Of course, he probably doesn't notice this.

Arisha shakes head. "Ugh. Boshter.....I hope you'll be okay."

Nearby to Arisha, Arubesh sits upon the floor, a large tome open in his lap. Ever the bookworm, the priest looks up only once he hears the others speaking. "They are indeed correct, Chord. While my knowledge of the living is limited, physical exertion in your condition may exacerbate your condition." He places his hands atop the book and straightens his back. The book clearly shows sketches of autopsies. "Blood flows, yes, but that pushes contagions through the body faster. I can perhaps help with the arcane side-affects, but I am not positive about the mundane."

"I feel very tired! Far more tired than usual. I will need definie clerical restoration! Hopefully, I will not continue to sicken!" Sweating Hobgoblins. Shirtless, sweating hobgoblin.

"*Perhaps,*" says Silmeria, in the tones of one who must observe due diligence despite nigh-Herculean opposition, "if you stopped quite so much blood pumping through your body until you stopped having *poison in your blood,* it may help with that? I believe that's what Mourner Arubesh is trying to get at."

Outside the door, it's started to drizzle. The man from the Veyshanti embassy stands there. Occasionally, his composure bends, and he lifts his head to the sky, mouth partly open.

"But..how am I to purge the poison if my heart is not pumping faster?!" Boshter looks confusedly at Silmeria. "Should I not sweat it out?" Very sweaty Hob.

He looks towards the Veyshanti, though. "HELLO," he booms.

Boshter's Mail:

You're losing sleep, and there's that faint itch. It begins at the back of the shoulder, and works upwards. The Mourners have taken Boshter off of tomb watch for the moment. They've brewed a tea for him to drink at night. When he wakes up in the morning, his mouth tastes of lemon and rosemary.

The acolyte slams his book shut, and sets the book aside. Rising to his feet, he feels as if he had made the emissary wait long enough to establish a bit of Veyshan dominance. "Not everything can be sweated out my friend," Arubesh says to Boshter as he joins the others at the front. "Welcome," he says with a barest of bws.

"Master Ambassador," Silmeria says, dipping a light curtsy before the Veyshanti. "How may we be of service?" The rest of the conversation, dropped for the moment.

Arisha looks over towards the Veyshanti Ambassador, but doesn't approach. She's a mul, after all.

The young man looks startled for a moment. He sucks on a corner of his lip, taking in the moisture before, "My name is Haytham, sers," he says. He bows, a straight lowering of his fore for a moment, before rising. "I serve the house of the Ambassador. I'm to take you whenever you are ready."

"I am ready!" Boshter says, brightly. Sweaty.

You arrive at the Embassy--in Upper Alexandria (because of course it is) with less fuss than covert stares. To those familiar with the Sea of Sands, the stares might feel familiar. Indirect, unlike those of Alexandria. Penetrating, thoughtful. Taking notes on every nuance of movement. ...and the air smells of...tea.

Of course, so does BOSHTER lately. Lemon and rosemary, specifically. A touch bitter, a tang in the air that becomes more pungent the more he sweats. By now, after those exercises--he's become near a stack of potpourri. Just with pointy ears and tusks.

Your guide, at the end of one hall, opens the door. Haytham stands aside, sucking on his thumb--as though to get the last taste of rain from it. Should someone look his way, he rips it away.

"THERE YOU ARE," says the voice. A large, bronze dragon reclines in the room. His long muzzle is relaxed, over folded arms. "BUT WHY EVER DO YOU SMELL OF LEMONS? IS THIS A...AH! A NEW BREW?"

You paged Arubesh with 'Months ago, Ambassador Abba had brought with him two new men. A young bronze dragon named Tangisir, and the more circumspect Jaidat. The dragon had been a student of the Burning Sands, back in the day, and hails from a more reclusive clan. ...he's a noted tea merchant. Presumably because his clan possesses unique territory.'

Arisha walks into the Embassy and sniffs the air. "mmmm....at least they have good smelling tea here." She says before she....notices the dragon. She....visibly shrinks away from the Dragon and pulls the hood of her cloak forward just a bit more. She's definitely a Mul, facing someone that can breathe lightning and crap thunder.

"That's not the tea," Silmeria murmurs at Arisha, taking an experimental sniff near Boshter. As they're shown into the Ambassador's chamber, however, all her attention is riveted on the wyrm, because to do anything else is a poor survival tactic. Dropping into a low curtsy, she surreptitiously tugs *hard* on Arisha's cloak, bowing her head. "Master Ambassador," she says, eyes fixed on, to be safe, a draconic toeclaw. "Our Chord came into.... difficulty.... during a recent investigation of ours. But how may we be of help to Veyshan?"

Arubesh has partially disconnected.

Arisha stumbles as she's pulled and falls to a kneel in front of the dragon. "What're you doing!" She whispers to Silmeria.....

"*Paying our respects,*" Silmeria whispers through gritted teeth.

Arisha does her best not to shout at Silmeria, mostly because of the dragon in the room (as opposed to the elephant in the room cuz it's a dragon) is really really REALLY scaring her. She doesn't rise unless the dragon allows her, but she is whispering a very frantic prayer......

Arubesh does not shrink or pull away, for he hails from a land of sand and fire where Djinn and Dragons claim lands. He bows low, the deference he did not give to the ambassador, is given to the dragon. "Merchant Prince of the halls of earth and sky, I offer you my respects, and that of my companions. I am Arubesh of the crypts and scales, and offer no surname as is proper for forgetting." Turning an eye to Silmeria he offers a slight nod of approval of her actions. He takes a step back to allow her to continue.

"...oh oh! Can I tackle you out of the sky too? I would love the chance to practice!"

Boshter looks... excited and happy. "Hello, Mighty Dragon! I am Boshter! OF BLAR!"

He remembers to introduce himelf only after thinking about tackling dragons out of the sky.

"IF MY WARESS INTERESST YOU...WE SSHOULD SSHARE WORDS," the dragon replies to Silmeria with a giant's humor. He raises his head just so, his gaze relaxed and eyes alert. Were he any older, he would not fit into the room. As it is, he fills it well enough that there's bare enough to sit or stand. The man who'd escorted you ducks his head, and begins arranging the cushions alongside the wall. "BUT THE WINDSS TELL ME THISS ONE HAD A CURIOUSS EYE. IT TURNSS OUT, I HAVE A CURIOUSS EYE, AS WELL, AS ANYTHING ENTERSS MY DOMAIN. ..." he says. He tilts his head to the side, as though listening. "YOUR ARVEK SSMELLSS LIKE THOSSE WHO BROKE INTO MY WAREHOUSSE. MY DOMAIN."

To Arubesh, he says, with a more regal nod. "SSO YOU HAVE READ MY INTERVIEWSS. I AM MERCHANT TANGISIR, GUESST OF THE AMBASSADOR, AND IT ISS GOOD TO SSHARE WORDSS WITH YOU ALL." He waits. Because you know, bronze dragon. Between the room, and the surroundings--his scales may as well have been replaced with gold coins. He then looks to Boshter. "PERHAPSS YOU WILL SSHARE THISS SSTORY, IN THE FUTURE, WHEN BUSSINESS IS CONCLUDED."

Arisha tries to slink back against the wall.....and avoid the notice of the dragon.

Silmeria perks at this observation, eyes rising, a bit. "...Then I would suspect we share a common enemy, Master Merchant Tangisir, for it could be that those who broke into your warehouse may be the ones we seek. May I inquire, if aught was stolen, and what?"

"Perhaps, Merchant. ...you might whisper? It is a small room," interjects the earlier servant.

The dragon looks towards him for a moment, and then to the rest of you. "I HIDE MY SSCALESS FOR NO ONE. ...but I will whissper," he says, lowering his voice. He looks over. Considers. "Perhapss we do, inquissitor. For our time together, I sshall sspeak plainly. A member of the Ssunset wass found among the cratess in my warehousse. I have made peasse with them," his tone firms, "...but then...life becomess interessting, thereafter. I hear rumorss, hear that you are looking about. You were more ssubtle," a gesture of claws towards everyone BUT Boshter. "...but you sstuck your...ssnoutsss...into it," he says. "...and here thiss arvek ssmellss like thosse ssick men."

"They were after my cratess. A sspecific crate, hidden in the back. Herbss, unique plantss," a shrug of one massive shoulder. A clinking of coin-like scale. "Do you know why thiss could be?" And golden eyes focus on you.

"They did! That is interesting." Boshter says this loudly. "I would tell you a story of my tackling dragons later! Clearly, this is an act against the Sunset! I bet they are sick too." He taps his chin.

Arisha looks over towards Boshter. "Perhaps he can smell the poison?" She's struggling to calm down it seems.

"The memberss of the Ssunsset died sshortly after," the dragon says, urbanely. Then raises a scaled brow, as though challenging anyone to suggest he'd raised a claw. Ssp ssivilized.

Arisha takes a deep breath. "Except Boshter here.....has been treated by followers of Althea.....and he's bull-headed....

Arubesh nods his head, hands clasping before him. "I am sorry to say Master Merchant, that your fine stock, as been used for nefarious ends." He motions to Boshter. "Our friend, and several others have been in contact with a concoction that may perhaps been made from what was stolen." He waves a hand as if to completely dismiss the topic of the Sunset people within the warehouse. "As a Prince, we know you are beyond reproach, and of the utmost sincerity. We are seeking an ingredient within the concoction that we have not been able to identify. Its presence has prevented us from both solving a string of murders, and curing our companion."

You paged Silmeria with 'The dragon is a merchant, and at heart, a trader. Offering to buy some of his wares can only help. He was interviewed in the Tribune a few times. ...a tea merchant. His signature was tlagi, well-known in tea circles for its unique combination of flavors. It is said it carries all flavors, from the crisp sunrise of the desert morning to its heated sunset. A thousand poems have been made of its petals. It's going to run around 10 gold, but we'll handwave it.'

You paged Arubesh with 'There's...a thought involving merchantry, but it slips away.'

"Of coursse. Thievess," Tangisir says. The dragon relaxes after a moment of tenson, and begins to stand. "Thievess, well. And poissoners. I sshall have to guard my waress more clossely. I believe we have been mosst helpful to one another. ..." he pauses then, glancing at Boshter.

"We're following the trail of a poison called Thieves' Trick," Silmeria says, "which is used to mask something much more deadly. Something with traces of magic, though I know not to what end." She tilts her head, then looks up at the dragon, adjusting her spectacles and beaming. "If I may propose a bargain, then? That is, assuming you've tlagi yet to be sold?"

You paged Boshter with '...Boshter's neck is itching again!'

An old, familiar kenning appears in the dragon's eye. Trade. The lifeblood of civilizations and perhaps, a pathway to a dragon's heart. A movement of his claws, and the servant from earlier vanishes through the single, visible door within the crowded room. "Nothing sso crass," he murmurs. "But if you are interessted in the tea, I will sseend ssome along with you."

"Ssome cratess, I think," he decides. He eases his bulk back onto the carpet, from where before he had stood. ...you'll receive the crates the thieves were after. He could have offered them before, he-- But. Merchant, Veyshanti.

Trade. "Thievess Trick? That iss a new name, to me."

"Hngh," says Boshter. Scratches his neck. "Mighy dragon, I believe I am getting more uncomfortable. Pardon me." Scratch scratch.

Silmeria bobs her head. "A gift of the finest tea yet known would be a great honor, Master Merchant... but the Lady would have us balance all scales. Thus... A crate of tlagi, and a list of the precise herbs burgled from your stores. In exchange, the price of a crate of tlagi... and what of the same herbs we can recover, when we fall upon our quarry."

"Esspenssive. ...but it sseems you might do me a favor, as benefitss uss both," the dragon says. He stands again, and looks to all of you. "I wass going to deliver their bodiess to your temple tomorrow, but you have given me much to think on, that I might sspend tomorrow in meditation, insstead. Do you think you might do that? It would be worth lowering the prisse. Of--" a regal nod of the head towards Silmeria.

Arisha is standing at the wall...not adding anything.

"Done and done," Silmeria says brightly, bobbing her head. "Did you want them removed discreetly, or no? To the Temple it matters little either way, but to others...?"

"Whatever customs would deem appropriate. If they happen to talk along the way, I'm told they do that, also," The dragon says.

""It has occasionally been known to happen," Silmeria agrees blandly, bobbing her head. "Are they still at the warehouse, then?"

""The sservants will sshow them to you As I said, you are ssaving me a great deal of trouble," the dragon says. He nods towards the door.

After the barest moment, the man from earlier reappears, as neatly dressed as before. He looks to the rest of you. "If you'll follow me, please, sers?" He opens the door, and stands to the side, deferentially to you all, bowing several times.

Arubesh offers a bow to the dragon before following the servant.

Silmeria dips her head, before finally rising from her curtsy and following the servant.

And so you do.

Within short order, you're in possession of the bodies. They belong to two arvek--who indeed--smell surprisingly like Boshter. Arrangements are made to deliver them to the Temple, and quickly. At the Veyshanti embassy, this is not too difficult. There are servants, there are merchants, and nobles. ...and for the moment at least, you have some command.

That done, you finalize the paperwork for them, for there is always paperwork when dealing with the dead. It involves signing, under the servant's helpful guidance, numerous forms and permissions, but that too is done, and then...then you step outside.

Outside, the air is a start contrast to the dragon's electric heat. The raining mist from earlier continues, obscuring vision but cooling the air. As heels touch cobble, though, Boshter--his body--goes still.

"You're going to end up dead, too," he says. The arvek's voice has taken on a different inflection, a different tone. "My brother used these poisons to claim hostages. Hey, hey--arvek? Are you listening to me?"

He smacks himself in the face. Boshter, that is. Several times.

Arisha has disconnected.

Arisha has connected.

You paged Boshter with 'Boshter is partially possessed. It's sort of a back-and-forth. He can respond, and control his own body. ...then whatever it is will take a turn, and vice versa. ^^;'

You paged Silmeria with 'You can roll sense motive, sure. XD Discern lies--let me look that up. <.<'

You paged Silmeria with 'Looks like it'll work. XD'

You paged Silmeria with 'Doesn't seem to be lying! BUT BOSHTER MIGHT IN GENERAL, JUST BE CRAZY.'

"...that was not me! And this is very odd!!" Boshter yowls!

And then Boshter smacks himself in the face again.

"*Did* he, now," Silmeria says, whirling on the frozen Chord. Her eyes glitter harsly as she fiddles with the oval lenses of her spectacles, eyes narrowing. "Why the escalation, then? Hostage-taking is vastly more profitable than murder."

"No shit he did. I told you Lem was an ass, didn't I?" says Boshter. He smacks himself a few more times. "You're almost dead, boy. I can feel it creeping through your body. ...do you feel your heart stutter, there? That's not *me*, but I've seen it. One stutter today, two more in an hour. ...you've got shit to live. Now turn around, damn you, and look at the shadows. There's three men there. You--"

You paged Boshter with 'You're half-possessed by an old, cranky grandmother.'

...Fire. Fire explodes outside the Veyshanti embassy, burning those outside. It envelopes the square in ash and smoke. A roiling mess that's difficult at best, to see through. Some of you have turned into humanoid candles, of course, and there's yelling, shouting from inside the Embassy.

You paged Boshter with 'Some of what you're shouting, 'Lem! Lem, you're going to die again! Do you hear me! Do you hear me?!?!

The most Arisha can do is be exploded and thrown back into the embassy from the shockwave. Thankfully, she manages to hit her left arm....which means, she didn't feel the impact. "Ow..." She groans as she tries to get out. "Owowowowow."

Arubesh ducks down as the blaze of flame engulfs him and those around him. Both heat and chill wash over him, causing pain and anger in equal turns. He rolls on the ground, smacking at his clothes in an attempt to gain some control of his personal situation. Fiery, burning, heated, situation.

Yes, the alleyway has exploded in fire, but there are more important things than putting out hair and clothes; instead, Silmeria dives over the wrapped corpses, doing her level best to keep possible witnesses from literally going up in smoke. "GET THE BODIES TO SAFETY!"

And then there is an explosion!

Boshter is able to avoid the worst of the fire even if it caught him off guard. He flails, "Lem! Lem! You're going to die again," he ells.

"Wait, I did not mean to yell that!" He alo yells.

Arisha tries to get up and help out as many people as she can...even with her own burns...

Veshanti Delegation Attacked

An explosion occured in Upper Alexandria, near the Veyshanti Embassy. While the cause of the explosion is unknown, it does seem to have upset Merchant Tangisir, the bronze dragon who has family both in Alexandria and Veyshan and unofficial member of the Veyshanti delegation.

"It is unacceptable," he's quoted as saying. Master Tangisir suggests his warehouses had recently been set pon by thieves, but expressed confidence that Alexandrian authorities would look into the matter.

No deaths were reported as a result of the blast.

We've reported previously on Merchant Tangisir:

http://tenebraemush.net/index.php/Main_Page#Gilday.2C_Quintoos_09.2C_1018

http://tenebraemush.net/index.php/News_Archives#Kirday.2C_Eatonis_24.2C_1018

http://tenebraemush.net/index.php/News_Archives#Ceriday.2C_Bernlfleur_23.2C_1018

http://tenebraemush.net/index.php/News_Archives#Tariday.2C_Eatonis_22.2C_1018

More Legwork @mails:

In the meantime, a mail arrives by courier, through the Chords. It's addressed from the Arcanists. It's a receipt for Lem's services, to add to the file.

Oh, myyyyy. What an eye-popping number.