Goriel and beyond

[Graybeard]

[OOC: OK, so on to Goriel with the Veracian airship, and a small thing to resolve with the other one, of which more below:]

The ship's arrival in Goriel didn't go exactly as Sister Rose had been hoping it might. A nice, low-key docking at the airship terminal, unnoticed by anyone except the people from our temple, would have been helpful, she thought. Instead, we get ...

A modest crowd of maybe fifty people were waiting on the ground for the travelers to disembark. Yes, among them stood the Abbot at the Veracian temple, who also served as ambassador (or the equivalent) to Goriel; a Father Boris, if she understood correctly. He was thought to have family origins up here somewhere, which explained his un-Veracian, Goriel-like name; a solid enough man, with no particular strengths or vices that Rose knew about. Two young priests stood with him.

But who was everyone else? They were all male, of course, and dressed in Gorielian clothes that caused the Veracian robes worn by the temple group to stand out. That got a wince out of Rose. She'd been straightened out on the garments made by Lillith and the others, of course, and had even laughed along with them when they described her facial expression when she saw the -- flamboyant outfit that Desiree was going to wear. Still, she'd been hoping to keep her nun's robes on for as long as possible before going native. That wouldn't be possible now.

"Excuse me," she said to Argus, "but I'd better go change before we disembark. One thing I want to do first, though." The range would be a bit great for it, but this seemed like an occasion for her to use her Empathy magic. She put up the spell and quickly scanned the crowd ...

... And quickly got a surprise.

<"Over there,"> she spoke in Argus' mind; this wouldn't be something to tell everyone else yet. <"That man with the red hair, tall, skinny, standing by himself at the gate ... that's a woman, not a man. She's trying to pass for male, trying to be inconspicuous. Wonder what that's all about?">

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OOC: A quick thing about the Bonny Read:

Laying in her bunk that evening next to Tamina, Jamie was all smiles. "Best. Day. Ever."

So is it assumed that nothing more is going to be going on there until arrival in Goriel the next morning? Because I have it on ... good authority that that long a peaceful interlude is not only entirely out of character for the people on the airship , but also ... surprisingly incorrect. Surprise coming a bit later, but it's coming. (Hint: leaving Farrel isn't gonna be as easy as it looks.)

[Browncoat]

OOC:

I'm ready for more action, but the others seem to be winding down. Angrist isn't particularly motivated to cause or avoid chaos at the moment. Blame the peace on the others.

(extra note: I check this forum multiple times per day, but I try pace myself and avoid posting in a superfluous manner. This means that you can interact with Angrist even if you aren't sure how he'll react because I'll usually notice within a few hours)

[Alberich]

The explosions, noises, and general chaos had failed to dislodge Udo from his lifeline, so he'd made it back on board and recovered his weapon. The Bonny Read had completely failed to catch its prey or hit anything. Obviously, with such an awesome crew, it was the pirate captain's fault, incompetent sailing that foiled his wicked intent. Udo mentally nicknamed him "Sail-Bad the Sinner." He caught some carefree Z's and had dreams no one could tell, but there was a smile on his face and his right hand made petting motions.

* * *

Tim looked out for the first time on this heathen country. The sight of a Church father was welcome and he didn't mind that his clothes were out of place. His values and his faith were even more out of place. He couldn't imagine trying to pass for one of them, or to treat the womenfolk the way Garvey the Airman said they did. Further proof, if any were needed, that men without faith would stray far indeed.

Maybe you'd better keep that thought to yourself. That's a lot of weapons they're showing -- and somehow Tim didn't think it was drill day for their militia. He kept his face defiant and stern, remembering Argus' exhortation to look tough, but his stomach had a lightness he didn't much like. The sun hadn't set on the bloody fight from this morning. There, though, he and Eli and the Damned Thing had held overwhelming strength. Here? He might go to his god with a martyr's crown on before he ever slept again.

[Drusia]

"Excuse me," she said to Argus, "but I'd better go change before we disembark. One thing I want to do first, though."

It too me long enough to get in to this outfit that I didn't feel the need to remove it. Goriel clothes, for women anyway, are odd - they tend to reveal a lot, but are difficult to get on and off quickly. Very elaborate. Well, mine are anyway. I've hardly had a chance to look over the others.

"Do you need any help getting dressed?" I ask Rose. Then, remembering to get into character, I add a belated "Mistress?"

Or maybe I should call her my lady? I'm not sure what the proper address for a 'kept woman' to a married woman is.

-- Desiree

"Best. Day. Ever."

OOC: **looks around for a flying blue pony**

[Graybeard]

"Do you need any help getting dressed? ... Mistress?"

That threw Sister Rose for a mild loop, until she realized what Desiree was doing. Well, it made sense, and she'd better work on getting into role herself. "No, I'll be fine," she smiled back, and returned to her cabin to change. Strictly speaking, it wasn't necessary -- her shape-shifting skill would allow her to blend in -- but the use of the outfit made for the purpose would help with the role playing. She made sure that the wife bracelet was showing; that could be important later.

Emerging a minute or two later, she found Argus. "Well, I suppose we should get on with this ... my lord." (Was that last a sign of respect, or a wry expletive? She left it hanging.) She fell into position, a respectful three feet behind her "husband," as the gangplank lowered.

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OOC, as regards the bunch on the Bonny Read: It would be possible, although not essential, for the airship pirates to have a quick encounter with the people in the Rinkaiel thread, on the way north to Goriel. The rationale would be that the BR spent so much time gallivanting around Farrel, between the "attack" on the other airship and incompetent navigation, that they had to stop and refuel before crossing to the Northern Confederacy. This would put the airship pirates a full day behind the Veracian party, but might pump a little life back into that other thread, which is down to JR and myself as participants at the moment. What are people's druthers? It can be arranged either way; indeed, arrangements have already been made in the other thread.

[Drannin]

Argus fell into the lead here. Diplomacy just wasn't his thing; barreling through things just worked so much better for him. On the other hand, such an attitude might just work wonders in this environment. Assuming his role of imperious Tsuirakuan patriarch, he strode up confidently to their reception.

"You are Father Boris, correct?" Argus rumbled questioningly. "I am Argus Cleiviein, and I speak for the delegation here."

<"And feel free to give me prompting when necessary."> He mentally added to Rose.

(OOC: Just jumping into the festivities.)

[Graybeard]

"I am Argus Cleiviein, and I speak for the delegation here."

Puzzlement crossed the priest's face. He'd been told to expect a group led, more or less, by a nun of his church. (And he'd been worrying about it ever since he got that word. Groups led by women in Goriel ... wouldn't go over well with the populace.) So who was this man? He was about to ask the question when he noticed Sister Rose's eyes going back and forth between himself and this "Argus Cleiviein," whoever he was. Ah. This would make things simpler.

As it happened, he was wrong about that. He was about ready to make a rather pro-forma welcoming speech when a small, vulpine man in Gorielian clothes inserted himself smoothly between himself and Argus, like a dagger being slipped between a victim's ribs. "Welcome to Goriel, Mr. Cleivien," he hissed, his sibilant tones evoking exactly the weasel that he looked like. "I am Pyotr Duravsky, representing His Excellency the Prime Minister. Do you desire an exchange of geteroi?" At no time did he make eye contact with, or even appear to notice, Rose or any of the other women in the group.

However, that wasn't mutual. Uh, oh, thought Rose. I don't know what a "geteroi" is, but I don't think I like this. Dealing with the civil authorities is going to be a pain at best, and possibly dangerous. We need to find a way to work through the temple. She was about to mind-say as much to Argus, but he looked occupied at the moment, to put it mildly. Instead, she stayed in the background, quietly (and, she hoped, unobservably) scanning the fifty or so people in the crowd.

As she did, she noticed something interesting: the woman masquerading as a man was gone.

[Alberich]

A taller, stronger, fiercer-looking man observed Pyotr's intervention. A close watcher would've seen a slight tightening around his eyes; a mage with an empathy spell would've kept an eye on his hands. (But they crept no closer to the shortsword at his hip.) Silver gleamed at his left hand and throat, bespeaking his status to one who could read it. On hearing Pyotr's words, he stepped forward as well, formally genuflecting -

"Good evening, Pyotr Vasilyevich, Boris Petrovich, distinguished guests" -- his bow, though polite, didn't go so deep as to make him vulnerable to an attack -- "Indeed, it is most generous of the Prime Minister to offer the exchange of geteroi to our esteemed guests, and much in keeping with the ways of his noble house - long may they prosper! Yet in the course of offering this most proper courtesy to them, Pyotr Vasilyevich, do please remember that his humble servant, Varlam Yurkashev, has also offered them hospitality for this evening, and that the noble men of your house have mostly kindly agreed that we may so do."

Pyotr's eyes slid over, "Indeed, Andrei Fyodorovich, and in a thousand years we would never mean any discourtesy to the noble house of Yurkashev, may they endure to the end of days! We seek merely to ensure they know the hospitality of his land, and that as they taste the famous hospitality of your lord - such as any man might envy - yet also they may have their due from other hands as well."

Boris was hesitant to intervene. Pyotr's step had been a bit presumptuous, and Andrei's move a natural reaction, but both men had powerful patrons not good to anger. He just had to make sure he talked to these newcomers before they actually went anywhere with the locals. The nun was supposed to be Special Operations, but even that was no guarantee she knew the customs of the country, and around here, that was extremely dangerous - so he intervened.

"Good Pyotor Vasilyevich, Andrei Fyodorovich" -- the order was required by custom, by family honor, but there was no doubt as to the true order of personal honor -- "Indeed, it is in keeping with the ways of your noble houses to be eager to show the right courtesies to these our newcomers. Far be it from me to interfere! Yet as they are new to our land and its ways, and just arrived from their journeys, and besides have brought messages from my own masters far away, I beg the courtesy for which your houses are well known, that I might have a little private conversation with them, and get that out of the way - so as to free them for every hospitality the noble houses of Duravsky and Yurkashev wish to show, without being for a moment distracted by the little matters that concern them with me." He extended a hand, offering to lead Argus to the temple, but not taking his eyes from the other two. "And of course, in the meantime, our own hospitality, such as it is, is yours."

Pyotr and Andrei didn't make eye contact, but both acquiesced in this.

[Graybeard]

[OOC: Traveling for a couple of days, so this will be sketchy, but to keep things moving...]

Sister Rose still had the remnants of her Empathy up, and that was enough. It's like looking into a pair of blast furnaces. These two men despise each other, never mind the excessively courteous words. And Father Boris feels like a cork in the muzzle of a cannon. He's afraid things are going to blow. Well ... we have to do our job, and we can't do that if he's dead.

She took the liberty of sidling up to her "husband" and gently tugging him toward the priest, in as unobtrusive a way as possible.

[OOC: Over to Argus, unless someone else wishes to commit a social ... indiscretion? ]

[Drusia]

It figures. There's finally some smoozing to do, and I'm stuck being seen and not heard. If this was somewhere civilized, I'd be working this gorgeous outfit for every bit of distraction it could buy me. But no, I have to stand here like a piece of furnature, not draw attention on pain of... whatever happens here if you break custom.

Also, I'd need to actually be briefed about what is going on. Then again, from the expression on Rose's face as she turns to nudge Argus, I think she might be as in the dark as I am on this one.

Again, if this was somewhere normal, I could slip into the crowd and try to learn about who this guys is through random chatting with passers by. But I can't, because I have to stick with Argus and the other man-folk.

So yeah, eyes on the ground in front of me. Try to look demure. Rather than, say, annoyed with the people whose bickering is delaying us.

-- Desiree

OOC: No indescressions on this front. Yet. Desiree has no idea that things are as potentially explosive as others have sensed. :p