Stepping on Air
Twelfth of Olweje-hamba (Olweje Descendent), 1349 A. L. (After Landfall)
It stings to admit fault for another's folly, but still better to do so now that argue with the lord of the Purple in his own house, he seems the sort of man who would take ill of any seeming disrespect when the blood of his leal, if slow-witted, underling still stains the earth. You've hunted things that walk in darkness before, you will do it again. "This is a foe we have faced before, we will bring it at bay."
"Good," the lord in ragged garb says. "Go 'round Dyer's Ditch and talk to Alurk, bring a pin if your nose's too fair for the place," he adds cryptically, though from the look on Tom's face it's some kind of paring shot.
Once you are out of earshot of Kefele he explains that Dyer's Ditch is famed for using fermented piss and
Atum Salt to make the cheaper sort of purple dye that is cheaper that the sort that you can get out of snails. "Some of the noble folk I heard wear jeweled pins on their noses to keep the smell out, so they say round the winesinks and meadhalls at least."
"You seen a lot of winesinks since we've been here Tom?" you ask half in jest.
"More than I would have back home m'lord," he answers, gravely, the setting sun casts deep shadows in his craggy face. "D'you think we'll ever be rid of 'em?"
"What the Neverborn?" you ask, about to give him some lukewarm reassurance, but the words catch in your throat, ringing false even in your own head. "Probably not, but then back home we never thought we would be rid of wicked men and yet we didn't fall to despair did we? Things are just a little more clear in this world, the truth of the world a bit closer to the surface."
"Only you my lord would say that a world with so many tricks of the mind is more truthful," Tom laughs and shakes his head.
"Comes from wanting to take the enchantress to your furs," Wanderer offers sagely.
You open your mouth to reprimand him, realize that would be no more truthful that the reassurance you had cast aside and instead just point towards the end of the street: "What in the Devil is that?"
The buildings here were a touch taller than in other parts of Farshore, but sun-beaten wood and mud brick would only take you so high, three stories, still squat and unlovely along street that meandered like the path of a drunken goat, yet narrow as the path may have been you would not have wanted to walk across it with nothing but a narrow grey rope between you and the deadly fall to the beaten earth where a crowd of dozens gawked like... well you expect like you as the acrobat seemed to dance across the space, light as a feather on her feet.
In dress and manner the woman was far darker of complexion than most of the people of Orinilu and she wore leaf green garb far finer than the hardscrabble inhabitants of Farshore could afford to buy. Not that you could mistake her for one of the highborn with their flowing robes, instead they fit her like a quiver fit arrows, clearly meant for... whatever she was doing.
Curious you walk up to an older fellow at the back of the crowd and ask who she is and what she's doing. The gaffer is more than happy to explain. It seems the lady in question is an acrobat from Humbai, she had been invited to perform at the wedding of one of the most wealthy of the merchant houses, House Orel, but then she got into some kind of a row with one of the heirs of the house and was promptly banished from the festivities and, adding injury to insult, she was forbidden from taking on a contract with any of the other ruling houses... though by ancient law only the Regency Council itself could banish her from the city outright... so in what one can only think of as a remarkable act of spite she's decided to perform out here for the commoners of Farshore.
You would have walked on, smiling a touch more mayhap at the odd happenstance if you did not also happen to hear the name of the noblemen who had made the scene... Bragi, the fellow who had been a sore loser over a game of semin last year. It looks like you share if not an enemy with the lady than at least an annoyance and you do know what it is like to be a stranger in a strange land. On the other hand being too hospitable has cost you not so long ago.
What do you do?
[] Invite the acrobat to stay in Wayfarer's Rest
[] Carry on
-[] Search for hunters to try to catch the neverborn's trail
-[] Move on to one of your other actions, the dark spirit will not be easily caught (Write in which)
[] Write in
OOC: Well that was an unexpected random encounter to get right off the bat.