A Strange Town and a Stranger Pair

As Felazo’s Ekzokia begins descending on the docks, Sister Hilan notices Alessari, her ally in this journey, diving silently into the water. She thinks little of it. Her hunter friend is likely simply going ahead of them to scout, as she had so many times during their walk across Yolryta. It’s just been made slightly more difficult by their traveling on a boat. Felazo’s fascinating little creation darts by me to some ropes. I keep at the wheel, holding it firm in place. If the sister recalls her lessons on other cultures correctly, heartward is towards the center of the Inner Ocean. And heading in that direction would likely be bad.

Soon enough, Felazo shouts out to her, “We’ve passed the beast of an ebbing, and momentum should take us most of the rest of the way. You can come off the rudder and get ready to pull into the dock.”

The pious woman does as she’s told, knowing little about sailing in general. She does note that, as she approaches the front of the boat, Felazo’s strange familiar continues to scurry about doing things with the ropes around the ship. Hilan supposes that whatever tasks the creature is doing is not the sort that could be easily explained, and their empathic connection likely allows him to convey the meaning with more ease. Felazo heads up to the wheel for some last second adjustments and tells the Sister of the Darian Order to tie the boat up once they’re alongside the dock. After they do so, Felazo drops down to the main deck and whispers a command to his creature. The familiar darts below decks. Sister Hilan furrows her brow slightly. “Will the Ekzokia be alright, resting in the water? They have a dock-crane right over there, I could raise her above the level of the highest tide to dry, after our long journ across the waves.”

Felazo laughs. And she’s pretty sure he’s laughing at her. “Our ships are treated better than that,” he says, clearly finding that statement hilarious. She didn’t get the joke. The familiar waddles back holding a large plank of wood over its head. “In any case, we ought to be disembarking. I’m sure the mayor is out here desperate to say hello.” And with that statement, Felazo puts down the wide plank, connecting the wall of the ship to the dock. Then he walks confidently down it.

Hilan follows the elf down the dock’s gangways to its central meeting area and entrance. There a lovely dwarf is standing there, smiling. Waiting for the elf. Hilan also notes a slender elf woman watching them while writing in some book at the table beside the main building on the dock. “Felazo! How fares things?” the dwarf woman asks with a wide smile. “What has a loner like you traveling in such…interesting…company?” The dwarf’s gaze makes the human feel somewhat uncomfortable, similar to the mayor of the last smuggler’s cove they visited. Perhaps mayors of smuggling towns all have looks that cause discomfort to her personally, she muses.

Felazo looks about, then says, “Well, you know how things are. I finally got the common sense to put some people between me and the terrible monsters that always try to kill me,” he jokes.

“It’s rude to call the Authority monsters,” the mayor says with a smirk.

Felazo shakes his head. “One misunderstanding with a corpse,” he mutters. Then, looking up as though he forgot something, he adds, “But I’ve been rude. This is my new shield, Hilan. Hilan, this is Oravlim, the mayor of this humble town. She’s been mayor for, what, seven years now?”

“Only six,” Oravlim replies, “And it is truly lovely to meet you, Hilan.”

Hilan bows her head. “And you. I must say, you do seem quite mayoral in how you hold yourself,” she tells the woman honestly.

“Thank you,” Oravlim says, then turning back to Felazo, she adds, “You said some?”

Felazo continues to beam his smile. “I brought along a hunter as well. Quite a help on the hungerings, I must say.”

“I bet. Now, you business here? Other than chatting with us, of course.”

Felazo’s smile doesn’t fade. “My own.” He leans in and whispers something. Oravlim nods in reply. Then, from behind them on the dock, Alessari appears. Sister Hilan smiles and nods at the woman.

“Ah, Alessari. Good of you to finally join us,” Felazo says.

Alessari nods. “Felazo,” she says, then leans in and whispers something to their elfish companion.

Felazo nods and laughs. “Of course, of course. It’s no trouble at all,” he says. Turning to the dwarf, he apologizes. “I’m sorry Oravlim. This is Alessari the Huntress, she just was warning me about some of those dangerously cursed objects clattering about near my lab table.” The elf taps his shoulder and the non-monkey hops off and scurries towards the ship. “So, how is business these days?”

“Good enough. How is yours?”

“Utterly unbusinesslike, yet entirely profitable. Anything you need to talk to us about, or may I wander freely into town to take care of things?”

“You, sure. But your friends look like the sort to cause trouble.”

Felazo laughs. “Of course they do. Deadly as a rogue ebbing to an untrained crew, this pair. But they don’t want to make any waves, so they won’t cause you trouble. Unless, of course, one of yours starts something.”

“We would never,” Oravlim replies.

Felazo does not stop smiling. The Sea Elf replies, “Even still, I’d like Sanni’s word on that front, too.” He looks across the open square by the dock at that slender elf Hilan noticed at the beginning.

The young elf groans visibly and approaches. “You really can’t just deal with Ora like a normal person?”

“I can,” he replies, “But I don’t trust you not to cause trouble, Sanni.”

“I would never,” Sanni says, honestly.

Felazo smiles relentlessly at her. “Well then, let me make something very clear,” he begins. Then he leans in and begins to whisper something into her ear. What is with people and their whispering, Hilan wonders. If you believe something, speak it for all to hear. Leaning back, Felazo adds at normal volume, “I assume we have an accord?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sanni replies. Apparently whispering is effective.

“Alessari, Hilan, this is Llarisanni. Trust nothing she ever says,” Felazo introduces them.

“I apologize for whatever my companion said,” Alessari adds, “Though knowing his experiments, it was probably the sanitized version of the truth.” Felazo’s familiar runs out from the ship and hops back onto Felazo’s shoulder. After looking at each other, Felazo and his creature turn to the pair. “I’m off,” he says, before whipping around and heading towards what appears to be the residential district of town.

Llarisanni turns to the pair of women. “The worst,” she mutters.

“Agreed,” Alessari says in return.

“We’ll have an eye on things, don’t cause trouble while you wait for Felazo to do his whatever.” Oravlim says before gesturing towards Llarisanni. The pair head off.

Alessari waits for the pair to head away before turning to Sister Hilan. “We aren’t the only newcomers, and seeing as they know Felazo, I’m betting they’re more worried about the other pair.”

Before Hilan can ask for details about the pair, they approach. A massive elf, standing taller and wider than Hilan, and a slim human. The human man begins to speak. “Good morn to you fresh faces. Might you happen to know where we could find the captain v’Icria that sails that ship?” he asks, gesturing towards the boat.

“Well, that’s a-” Hilan begins.

Alessari cuts her off. “That depends on your business with them.” She glares coldly at the pair. The large one hunches over slightly and tenses.

The slender one holds up a hand, cutting through the tension with ease. “We were merely hoping for a ride,” he says with a smile. “And from your reaction, I do suspect that you, too, were travelers on the vessel v’Icria.”

Hilan steps in to do the same for Alessari that this gentleman did for his companion. “We are something like that, yes. Come, he went this way.” She begins to lead them in the general direction that Felazo had walked in. Alessari grunts and follows, as do the pair.

“By the by, you fair folk may call me Ren, and this is Den. Apologies for not introducing ourselves sooner, but what with the escalation I felt clarity over formality was in order,” the slim human says.

The large one, Den evidently, mutters to himself, “At least, this one time he did.” Ren chuckles. His smile, unlike Felazo’s, does not last long. As they are walking through the residential-seeming area, the four newcomers are suddenly surrounded by men with swords.

“Heard you have money and goods,” one says from a rooftop, “We’ll be taking those.”

Before Hilan has a chance to talk anyone down, Alessari swiftly draws her bow, then drawing her finger across the arrow, Hilan sees the familiar green sparking for but a moment before the arrow flies at the speaking one on the rooftop and ensnares him in vines. “I suppose we’re fighting,” she says as she raises her shield.

“So it seems,” Ren adds, spinning his lute around to the ready.

Then Hilan sees something truly terrifying. With a quiet growl and a glare, Den tenses and launches himself into the middle of a group of three bandits. A cloth slides onto the ground, revealing a wicked-looking sword. The first one is down in a single strike. He seems to grow stronger as the blade finishes sliding through. Then, still surrounded by a pair of bandits, the large elf swings his twisted sword, once against the bandit on his left, killing him. Once against the bandit on his right, cutting him deep. The bandit growls right back. Then, faster than should be possible, Den’s sword cuts once more, removing that third bandit’s growling head from his body. Den turns to the remaining pair of bandits not on the roof. With this, Renalt begins to play his lute. And while he does, he sings a song without sensible words. And, as though by magic, the bandits begin to applaud. Dropping their swords. The one on the roof that Alessari had shot takes a shot of his own. The arrow strikes Alessari in the thigh. Hilan looks at the man, bringing the full weight of the Cold Fist’s judgment down on him for such a foolish action. He stops and stares, contemplating what he’s doing. The others don’t even need divine motivation to question their actions. They just watched half of their fellow bandits get killed and unlike their boss, they are within striking distance of the one that did the killing. They all run as fast as they can, in various directions. Den bends over, picks up his cloth, and wraps his sword once more. The boss doesn’t flee, and instead attacks once more. In response an arrow and a dagger fly out, one from Alessari, the other from Den. Both strike the bandit and cause him to fall off the roof, dead. Den returns to his looting of the body. Alessari heads up to the roofs quickly, to make sure there isn’t more trouble.

Hilan looks at Ren. “Is this normal for you and Den?” she asks, a mix of musing and genuine curiosity.

“I know not even what your ‘normal’ means, my lady of the cloth,” Ren replies, “Though if you be asking merely about my companion and his capabilities, this particular instance was somewhat extraordinary, though not by much.”

“I suppose that makes some sense,” Hilan says right back, though she isn’t quite sure if it does. She is somewhat concerned at how quickly it all turned to violence, but Ren isn’t the one to ask about that. He seemed equally concerned when the arrow was loosed. “So,” she asks instead, “Was I just imagining things, or do you seem to know a bit of magic.”

Ren smiles. “Well, let’s just say at times I feel like showing my foes the power of music,” he replies with a bit of a chuckle. “But tell me of the captain v’Icria.”

Before she can reply, she hears a voice from behind them. “One job, you two,” she hears Felazo complain.