One Day By The Sea [Closed to Barnaculled]

[war_mage_widogast]

The Menagerie Coast. It's interesting. Compared to the Empire, with its neat and firm laws, it's almost a free for all. But it's a port city, bustling with all kinds of types, and Caleb is here for a reason.

A purpose.

Officially, the Cerberus Assembly - and Master Ikithon in particular - operated well within the laws of the empire. That was only officially, however. There were certain outlawed spells, certain paths of study and research that were verboten.

Which was why he was here, picking up a spell tome in person, instead of having it brought by a courier, where it could be intercepted by any number of crowns guards. It's being brought this far from Issyria, via skyship, and it had been purchased for a sum that was absurd even by the Assembly's standards.

Caleb isn't immediately recognizeable as Dwendalian. He's wearing a dark leather jacket and cload, clothes clean and pressed, a strange tabby cat weaving between his legs as he walks, its eyes a strange and almost luminous blue-green. The docks are busy with workers and merchants, and they pay little mind to a well-dressed man with short facial hair and slicked-back red-brown hair.

As he's passing the many docked ships on his way to the tower where the sky ships dock, however, he's brought up short. He reaches up to touch the amulet around his neck - it's faintly warm and vibrating gently. There was a magical artifact nearby.

He turns on the spot, using the amulet like a compass, and soon he's following it further down the dock, to one of the ships being unloaded by workers. There's a multitude of different races on display here, humans and half-elves and half-orcs, dwarves, halfings, even the occasional tiefling, but his attention is drawn to one of the half-orcs unloading a netting full of crates.

He has a sword on his hip that is magical. Caleb tilts his head to look, murmuring under his breath and moving his fingers to cast detect magic. The sword flares a faint white to his vision, confirming his suspicions, but there's also very faint white lines also around the half-orc, almost binding him to the sword at his side.

Caleb blinks, focuses harder, and then the cat at his feet bumps into him more forcefully at the same time as he's shoulder-checked by a passing merchant, jolting him out of the spell.

The skyship will be arriving soon, and he needs to be there before it arrives, to take the book before any officials here can see it. But the half-orc is intriguing enough that he tells the cat at his feet, "Stay here," before moving on, heading for the tower.

The cat watches Caleb go for a moment, then hops up onto one of the boxes that had already been moved, curling his reddish tail around his legs, attention focused on the half-orc with his strange sword.

Comments

[barnaculled]

One last job, then he's out of here.

The fortune he might have once had was scattered across the bottom of the Shearing Channel, but then, so were the bodies of the rest that had a claim to it. Most people never get to really know just how valuable their life is to them until they meet a force against which they can't even hope to fight, and then death takes them. So instead of taking his pay and putting it towards the ports, he's decided he's going to take an extended shore leave and see how far he can stretch it.

Except.

"Aw, hell," The half-orc curses under his breath as he realizes that the stack he'd been making of boxes now has itself a sentinel. He approaches the cat, but stops maybe a good four or five feet away. He'd hoped his looming presence would scare it off, but it didn't seem phased. A ship's cat? There were plenty of them around and this one looked particularly well-groomed.

"If you're hungry, dinner is over there. You stay here, you're gonna be someone else's dinner," He addresses the animal with a cock of his head towards the ship, his accent somewhere between a drawl and a lilt - he didn't quite have it down pat enough to keep the rural twang under pressure. His arms bulge and tremble a little with the strain as he glowers at the feline with golden, slitted eyes.

"Go on, git!" The half-orc growls, attempting to sound menacing, before he puffs his cheeks and actually attempts to blow air right into the cat's face over the edge of the box. Assuming the animal doesn't move, he'll eventually have to set the box down nearby, and visibly makes an attempt to lean away from the creature while doing so. He's allergic to most cats and the last thing he needs is to be sneezing while he's trying to haul around these boxes.

[war_mage_widogast]

[I fucking forgot Fjord is allergic to cats LOL]

The cat blinks at the half-orc, its own unusual eyes bright, pupils only a tiny slit. He barely blinks when Fjord blows air in his face, but he does meow in reproach, standing up and swishing his tail back and forth. He does move to the side, though, jumping down to the side of the pile of boxes before striding forward to bump into the half-orc's legs, meowing again.

Caleb flickers back and forth between watching through Frumpkin's eyes and his own, before he moves out of range. As he looks to the west, he can see the sky ship starting to come in and speeds up, legs carrying him towards the tower.

Frumpkin turns his head to watch the ship as well for a moment as it starts to come in, then returns his attention to the half-orc as Caleb turns his attention from it. He meows, standing up on his hind legs to sniff the sword at his hip, bumping it with his paw before he turns and heads back to the boxes, jumping up and sitting again, tail curling around his legs.

"Makin' friends?" One of the half-orc's shipmates asks with a smirk, hefting the boxes easily and pushing the one he's carrying over his dwarven head to join the pile.

[barnaculled]

[ I read some shit where he actually shouldn't be allergic to Frumkin bc Frumkin is hypoallergenic, but honestly I don't remember any real reffs for that being the case. Fjord probably reflexively avoids cats at first regardless. So we can play with that. ]

A sailor's life doesn't exactly incline one to be kind to animals, but this half-orc isn't exactly prone to cruelty either.

"Get on, now," He grumbles at the cat braiding itself between his legs as he puts the crate down. As the cat actually begins to climb up his leg and bat at the falchion against his hip, the half-orc has to do something, batting down at the cat with a two-toned hand. He doesn't really want to hurt it as much as dissuade it. No doubt this dumbass cat just liked the perpetual smell of fish off the blade.

The cat is gone before he even remotely seems to swipe it, nimbly back on the boxes.

"Maybe," He returns to his shipmate, turning a little smirk on him. "Try not to get too jealous, huh? You know you're my salt-wife, Dalli. My one'n only."

The half-orc winks at the dwarf, meaning none of it. When it comes to flirting, he can only really do it when it comes to someone he's known for a while and has almost no interest in. This is boyish teasing, something he expects the dwarf to smack him for.

He leaves the cat, moving to fetch another box with his fellow. This ought to be the last one for him before he can go and claim his wages.

[war_mage_widogast]

[HOW ABOUT THAT EPI HUH???]

Dalli has his hands full of box so instead he kicks out, He barely catches the half-orc on the calf, but he moves to gather another of the last few boxes.

:You think any more about staying? Cap'n isn't the only one who wants to keep you around. Hard to come by good hands, and you're more than a good hand. At more than just keepin' warm on a cold night, 's well.

The cat watches the half-orc go to retrieve his last box, then gets up as he brings it back, meowing again.

One of the other deckhands approaches, reaches out to touch - or maybe to grab - and he hisses and swats instantly, sitting up on his back legs and pressing his ears back.

It's a simple matter for Caleb to get his way past the guards, a simple suggestion to let him through, and then he's headed up the stairs, going as quickly as he can without winding himself until he's on the top of the tower, the ship banking a little to descend into position before the hands are throwing over ropes to tie the ship to the posts to keep it from moving away.

"Huh. Don't see those every day," Dalli says and nods to the skyship. "Wonder where it's coming from."

woowww get out of my faceeee

[barnaculled]

The little kick makes Fjord stagger a little, even though he's placed down his box. He can't quite help a low and boyish swat against the dwarf's backside.

"I have ideas. That's real bad if I don't say it before the captain does." He slows enough he's keeping pace with Dalli, not bumping into him, but he does lean over him. "Listen, I need a favor. Tell 'em all I'm getting drunk off my ass tonight at the Red Reaver."

It's a bar that's outside of their usual haunt, but not a bad place for Dalli to claim his shipmate is hanging out now. The half-orc fishes into his pockets, bringing out a few silver that's tucked into his breast. He waits until he and Dalli set down the crates, then moves to shake the dwarf's hand and press the coin into them.

"I'm done with this shit, Dalli. Just stall for me til tomorrow, huh?" He bows his head, levels the dwarf with a steady golden stare. "I love you, but I've swallowed enough of the sea."

That said, he does leave, moving down the dock with his sword swinging at his waist. There's a quartermaster of sorts at the end of the dock and he knows Fjord well. He knows Fjord has never lied to him about his wages, so it's simple to hand over his pay at a word.

Which is why Fjord can begin to make his way towards the tower of the air ships. Along the way, the cat may see the half-orc surreptitiously ease into an alley and then observe a white-haired gentleman in more mercantile robes head up the stairs.

[war_mage_widogast]

Dalli nods after a moment, stuffing the coins in his pocket without looking at them, then pats Fjord firmly on the arm. "Yeah. I can tell. Have a good life, Fjord." He turns to watch Fjord go, the cat jumping down from its perch to follow him, then, once he's gone, turns back to start yelling at the rest of the crew, spurring them to action.

Frumpkin follows at a distance, sticking near walls and buildings as he follows, peering around the corner to blink his bright blue-green eyes taking in everything.

In the tower, Caleb quietly and calmly assure the tower's master that he won't be any problem, he's just here for a single item, then takes the box he's handed by the captain. It's locked, its traps and seals in place, and he takes a moment to verify the unique magical icon pressed into the top before he nods and heads off, lifting his coat to tuck the box into the extradimensional pouch on his hip. It's just large enough for this purpose, under his coat and enchanted not only to hold more than it should be able to, but also with very punishing anti-pickpocket charms.

As he descends the tower, he blinks back to Frumpkin, pausing on the stairs for only a moment, and watches the half-orc with the strange sword head into an alley. It can't be that far away since when he tells Frumpkin to turn his head to look back at the street, the cat obeys.

[barnaculled]

There is no sign of the half-orc to be found, at least not visually. By scent, however, the cat would be able to follow the salt and the sweat to the heels of the human man in merchant garb who begins to climb the tower. At first, his steps are confident and strong, but as Fjord picks up the sounds of steps above him, he changes. The human bows slightly forward, rounding his shoulders with signs of age, and his pace shifts to a much slower, oscillating stagger that speaks of arthritis in at least one knee.

Soon enough, Caleb isn't going to have to look through Frumpkin's eyes to see him.

A pair of brown ones are soon staring up at the wizard, the gaze absorbing his attire with the sort of expertise of one who was used to recognizing the origins of all sorts of strangers. It's a narrow enough stairway that Fjord must shift to press his back to the wall in order to let Caleb through. If he were actually a human male of the size he was portraying, it would have certainly been possible to pass by without brushing shoulders, but he was quite a bit broader in reality.

He offers a little nod of greeting, all compulsory politesse.

[war_mage_widogast]

Caleb barely reacts to the sight of the half-orc wearing an illusion - after all, he already knew about it. But instead, he waits until they're standing on the same stair to turn, their faces not more than a foot apart. This close, it's not easy to tell it's an illusion - if not for the amulet on his chest buzzing slightly and his familiar having followed the man, it would be impossible to tell.

"Perhaps you would like to talk with me outside, Fjord?" He asks, perfectly impassive, then snaps his fingers and Frumpkin vanishes from where he's standing on the steps and reappears on Caleb's shoulder, crouched, blue-green eyes wide, pupils still narrrowed to slits despite the relative darkness of the tower.

"I have questions for you, and I think you might as well." His Zemnian was accent was heavy, distinct. It wasn't unusual at all in the Empire, and only slightly more here on the Coast, but it was precise. Astrid and Leofred had lost their accents over time in the Academy and then as members of the Assembly, but Caleb's ahd stuck around and seemingly only gotten stronger.

[barnaculled]

"Holy fuck!" Fjord ( as an old, scholarly merchant ) throws himself back against the wall as Caleb snaps and that damn cat appears on his shoulder. He looks wary, but he listens, which is the important thing.

Fuck his life. He knew that cat was weird as hell and gotten a weird vibe from it... but he hadn't thought it would be like this.

"Okay," He responds, eventually, with the gruff voice of his working rural accent. "We'll go outside. But I got one question before we do... Am I in some sorta trouble?"

Even if this ginger human lies, Fjord is fairly confident in his ability to see as much has happened.

[war_mage_widogast]

"Depends on if what you told the guard to get up here gets me in trouble." He was supposed to be incognito about the whole thing, and if this half-orc had blown his cover, exposed what he'd done to get up here and not have his book be seen by any sort of official, things would get... messy.

He turns and heads down the stairs again, not bothering to wait for Fjord to agree or not. If the guard is on to his ruse, he can modify the man's memory, but if he's already called the rest of the watch... Master Ikithon would be displeased if he caused a scene, but the book getting back to the Assembly was the most important part.

As he heads down the stairs, Frumpkin turns his head to watch Fjord, curling up comfortably on Caleb's shoulders, his legs hanging down like the ends of a scarf.

[barnaculled]

"I don't know who the fuck you are. How could I get you in trouble?" Fjord offers, rather reasonably he thinks.

As the mage makes his way down, the half-orc hesitates. Up means an attempt at bartering for passage with a personality he knows damn well is half-baked. Down is... interesting, very interesting.

Caleb manages to lose sight of Fjord completely before the sound of footsteps ring out. He's following Caleb down at a fair distance, as if they aren't associated at all, into the street. He will follow the mage to whatever place he deems fit to pause for conversation.

[war_mage_widogast]

Caleb waits to hear footsteps before he snaps his fingers again and Frumpkin returns to where he was before, trailing Fjord's steps closely, a way to keep track of the half-orc without drawing attention to either of them.

As he steps out of the tower, the guard nods to him, but nothing in his posture or activity on the street has changed.

Caleb heads not for a dark alley, but to a very nice inn. He lingers outside, waiting for Fjord to catch up, the picture of a moderately wealthy man outside a nice inn enough to keep attention off of him.

[barnaculled]

He isn't long behind Caleb. He's considering reasons to bolt, but ultimately... this man honestly doesn't look very intimidating to him. Fjord's streak of arrogance thinks he can take Caleb if it comes down to a fight. How good is magic, really, if you can't utter a spell or use your hands? Fjord is a good fighter, he thinks, and not too slow about it either.

The fact there is no dark alley give Fjord even more confidence, keeping his form as the older man as he now wanders up to the young mage.

"We good or... you need some coin?"

Fjord is curious and impressed by the surveillance on him so far, but it has its limits.

[war_mage_widogast]

It was not like Caleb was prodigy-like, dragged from a tiny village to prominence among the Empire's premiere magical Assembly, or anything. It's just magic, after all. Right?

"I am not interested in coin. Come." He leads the way inside, past the first-floor tavern, to go up the stairs.

He uses a key to unlock the door and magic to release the Alarm spell, and then steps into the room. It's nice, the bed made to precision. There's a small pack on the back of the chair at the table, but no other signs that anybody is staying in the room.

Frumpkin pauses a moment then jumps up onto the bed, circles once, then lays down, a ball of dark and light orange fur, luminous eyes closing.

[barnaculled]

When it comes to spotting prodigies from the moment they assault him with his cat, Fjord is apparently lackluster. But that's to Caleb's favor. If he thought the human a real challenge or a lure into some sort of ambush, he would have run.

Consequently, Fjord does pause as Caleb opens his room, taking a moment to lean forward and glance in. It's... seemingly empty, so he steps in and very gently closes the door behind him.

Fjord makes note of the apparent things in the room then, which means the pack and then Frumpkin. He waits, folding his arms across his chest. He decides, then and there, to drop the illusion.

It falls off of him in green, shimmering mist, revealing an armored half-orc in the place of the old man.

[war_mage_widogast]

Caleb considers, for a moment, charming Fjord. He sits on the bed next to his cat and strokes his fingers over the fur, scratching behind delicate triangle ears and stroking Frumpkin's chin and neck. "That is a good illusion," he tells Fjord. "Where did you learn it?" From what he'd seen through Frumpkin's eyes, there had been no incantation, no complicated movements, no spellbook. And all the sorcerers Caleb knew wouldn't be caught dead working on a ship moving boxes.

Really, there was maybe only a few other options left.

He scoops up Frumpkin and the cat protests only a little before sighing and moving to get comfortable on his back, head resting on Caleb's shoulder.

[barnaculled]

Fjord considers, for a moment, lying. He doesn't know this man or what his motivations are. Then he figures that there's nothing beneficial to come from being dishonest, especially since curiosity has brought him this far. Maybe this wizard ( or whatever manner of conjurer he wad ) could help him understand the nature of his own magic, if not outright then by his reaction to what Fjord tells him.

"I didn't... learn it, per se. The first time I did it was on accident and I've been workin' at it ever since."

He begins to explain, but then a thought occurs to him.

"Beggin' your pardon, but my life's gone ass over tea kettle in the past few weeks and it's been..." A green hand lifts, thumb rubbing at one of his scarred brows. "It's been real difficult on me. If I'm gonna explain it to you, I think it's fair I know who it is I'm explainin' it to."

[war_mage_widogast]

Right. That did seem fair to Caleb. And if he needed, he had Modify Memory fresh in his mind to use. "Caleb Widogast. I am a member of the Cereberus Assembly, in the Empire." He skritches behind Frumpkin's ears and the cat relaxes and purrs, eyes closed and content.

But already what Fjord had said have given Caleb an idea as to what was the cause of his apparent new magic. A sorcerer's power manifested as a child, a wizard devoted themselves to their study, and a bard or druid found their power in nature or music or performance. It rarely happened on accident in those cases.

"Where did you get your sword?"

sorry I'm being slow with the other one cuz smut

[barnaculled]

Fjord arches his brows lightly at the reveal of the other's allegiance. He had already guessed this human was Dwendalian and some manner of magic-user, but the Cerberus Assembly was quite a prestigious thing to claim from what he understood. He had been doing research on various schools of magic within Wildemount and the Assembly, along with the Soltryce Academy, were prominent names.

They were also commonly spouted by out-of-work conjurers and charlatans alike in the Menagerie Coast.

But Caleb's almost knowing attention to his falchion is what really seems to take Fjord aback.

"I... I found it on the shore. D'you know it?" Slowly, so that the other doesn't get the wrong idea, he makes to draw the blade and set its flat across his other hand. It appears like he intends to present it to Caleb, taking a few steps closer before he pauses.

"You mind if I see some sorta... identification?" He ducks his head a bit, offering the wizard a sheepish smile.

no worries!!

[war_mage_widogast]

He doesn't know the sword. It's still got that faint magical aura around it, and when he casts detect magic again, it looks just the same as it did when he spotted it the first time. It's not obviously magical. There are no runes on it, no intricate leather- or metalwork. Still, he has no intention of taking the sword.

Instead, he hesitates, then reaches into his shirt for the second amulet it keeps around his neck. This one is protected by a minor illusion, as he's not here on official business, but when he dispells the effect, the crest of the Assembly is revealed.

"I do not have any paperwork on me due to the nature of my work here." If the amulet was looked on with any sort of scrutiny it would be revelaed, but it wasn't meant to pass an in-depth examination.

"Have you made any deals recently? Or heard any voices that were not your own in your mind?" In his reading, he had heard about warlocks who made their pacts not with a creature, but with sentient weapons. Without a chance to Identify the sword, though, it wasn't immediately clear if the sword was the giver of the pact, or some other creature working through a magical artifact.

[barnaculled]

Fjord shakes his head dismissively as Caleb makes excuses about paperwork.

"Nah. I believe you. Thanks for showin' me."

In fact, Fjord had only asked to see what the wizard would present to him, if he didn't outright refuse. A liar would have gotten upset and confrontational. He'd also observed that hesitation and gathered that Widowgast's work was either espionage or... personal. Thus, gratitude.

At the question about deals, Fjord wrinkles his brow a bit, but ultimately shakes his head.

"No deals outta the ordinary. Not that I can remember. But I've been havin'... dreams. Nightmares, more like. You mind if I sit down?"

He's been working his ass off all day, he climbed part of the stairs to a tall ass tower, he hasn't eaten since lunch, and now he's about to tell a strange wizard about the things that have been haunting him for weeks. He'll take the floor if he has to.

[war_mage_widogast]

[of course Caleb is going to make excuses about paperwork ;) ]

Caleb tucks the amulet back into his shirt as the illusion returns, then sets Frumpkin down on the bed. "By all means, sit," he says and gestures to the chair at the small table.

As Fjord moves to sit, he pulls a slim leather-bound book from the pocket at his belt, and a piece of paper-wrapped charcoal, and wrote a brief message to Master Ikithon: 'Package safely retrieved. Authorities unaware. Have found possible warlock, will bring back to CA. Caleb'

Then he looks up at Fjord, closing the book. His message will appear in his master's office, the letters vanishing into nothing in the paper of his own book.

[barnaculled]

With another little thanks, the half-orc sets his falchion down on the aforementioned table ( whoops, might be some scuffs there, he's not too used to fancy inns where it matter ) and sinks into the chair with a groan. He unties his waterskin from his belt and takes a long, deep drink.

He's a bit too distracted with his own thoughts to really notice or care about whatever Caleb is jotting down. His yellow gaze rests on the falchion, but wherever he's looking is a long way off.

"A couple weeks ago, I was part of a crew takin' merchant goods across to Tal'Dorei. Waters of the Lucidian are treacherous... buncha ship-breaking rocks and things that wait beneath the waves for whatever falls out. Pirates. Storms. I fell overboard when our ship exploded. When I woke up, I was on the shore." Fjord nods towards the falchion. "And that's the first thing I came across."

[war_mage_widogast]

"And when did your nightmares start? Immediately afterward?" Frumpkin hops up on the table and leans into sniff the falchion, but like Caleb, he's hesitant to touch it.

'Lucidian, 2-3 weeks ago. Possible sentient magical weapon, but pact with entity seems more likely.' He's keeping his attention on Fjord as he writes, not needing to look down to what he's writing.

Normally, a warlock was at least somewhat conscious of the decision they had made. Fjord, however, either had no memory of the event - which seemed odd, to not know - or he was lying.

The real question was, how much to tell Fjord. And how to convince the half-orc to come with him back tot he Assembly. master Ikithon was not the only one who had an interest in studying warlocks, and one without a firm connection to their patron could be molded in a way another warlock couldn't.

[barnaculled]

[ ooc; Just realized this set-up and his accent makes Caleb totally wizard Freud rn. ]

Fjord, for his part, is absorbed in his story and the memory behind it. He nods in response to the question before, a bit more raggedly.

"Yeah." He clears his throat. "I'm drownin' again, tryin' to get up to the surface... only this time I feel like somethin' is watchin' me. Sometimes I watch me... and everyone else... sinkin' into the dark. You go down deep enough in the water and you won't float anymore. The pressure just pulls you down."

As Frumpkin jumps up onto the table, the orc startles and swears a little, causing the chair to creek as he nearly throws it backwards.

"That's a real goddamn cat, ain't it?"

[war_mage_widogast]

[I fucked up earlier, it's Aeodwulf, I don't have a single idea where Leofred came from.]

Caleb closes his journal and tucks it and the charcoal away. "He is my familiar. You can reach out and touch him so he is real, ja?"

The blade, unlike Fjord, smells like the ocean. Like saltwater. Caleb snaps his fingers and Frumpkin is at his side again, flopping down onto the bed with a pleased purr.

"I am going back to the Empire in the morning. If you would like to come with me and learn at the Academy, I am sure my master could find you a place there." He didn't have to wait for a response to know that Ikithon would be pleased if Caleb brought Fjord back with him.

[barnaculled]

[ ooc; Leofred is Caleb's daddio! And his mom is... Una? Ana? Something. ]

"I dunno, cuz I ain't gonna touch him. I'm allergic." Fjord retorts, smartly, and crosses his arms over his chest.

But at Caleb's offer, his eyes widen again. It's all he can do to keep himself from blurting out an immediate response. Still, one is swift enough to come as his brow ( the scar that's worn there, Caleb might note, is still pretty fresh ) furrows.

"Why would you wanna offer me somethin' like that? You hardly know me."

[war_mage_widogast]

[Aaaaaaah now it makes sense. There's a lot of similar sounds between the names, that might be what caused it.]

"I do not know if you would be allergic to him. He is a fey cat, you know, perhaps it is different." He doesn't know if Fjord would be AlertTag to Frumpkin or not, honestly.

"But as for the other thing, I think your story is very interesting. Many students come to the Academy as youngsters, and most with money. But sometimes there are exceptions." Caleb shrugs.

Warlocks were not verboten in the Empire, or in the Academy, but there were still things not yet understood about the way a patron and warlock interacted. How they communicated, how magic and power was transferred between them... So much was unknown still.

[barnaculled]

[ ooc; Oh yeah, they're hard to keep up with! I only remembered since I listened to it sort of recently for this thread. ]

Fjord eyeballs Frumpkin skeptically with his own rather catlike set. Maybe next time he won't immediately try to tuck and roll if the thing gets close just to test the theory, but he's not going to come a-callin' for the creature either.

"I... I confess I was interested in the Soltryce Academy. In understandin' what the fuck happened to me and what I can do. But I heard the same things you just told me about it and..." He opens his arms, gesturing down the length of his toned figure and his piecemeal armor. It isn't a prideful gesture, just an honest one. "What you see is what you get regardin' both. I mean, I saved some funds for meals on the way to Tal'Dorei, but that's it."

[war_mage_widogast]

"Well, we will not be walking to Rexxentrum if that is your worry." He would need to spend a bit of time tonight refreshing his memory of the teleportation spell but they could leave in the morning without needing to get close to a city gate.

"Also do not worry about money either. The Assembly is interested in learning more about warlocks. Answer their questions as well as study and learn and I am sure tuition will not be an issue."

Caleb reached back into the same pocket he kept the journal in and dug out a small handful of gold. "Here. For your room and dinner tonight. I will see you in the morning?"

[barnaculled]

Not one or two pieces - a fucking handful of gold. Fjord makes sound in the base of his throat like he's trying to disguise choking on his food at a fancy and quiet dinner party and sits up straight.

"Me, your twin, one of the most deep-throated women you've ever met - far as I'm concerned you can look at whoever you want when I show up tomorrow morning."

This whole thing seems surreal. Fjord doesn't doubt there's some kind of catch here, but Caleb's made him an offer he can't refuse.

"But that's... that's what you think I am? A warlock?"

Warlocks weren't precisely evil by nature, but they certainly had a bad reputation. Orcs were the same and Fjord has been dealing with that for most of his life. He makes to stand and sheathe his blade, interpreting this offer of money as a signal for dismissal.

[war_mage_widogast]

[Last tag of the night... I should have slept a while ago but oh well.]

It's five gold, maybe. This is a nice place, and after dinner and drinks and a room, there won't be much left over.

"You were drowning and then you woke up on a beach with a sword. If you did not manifest magic as a child or learn from a book, there are few other options remaining."

Warlocks were not evil. Their patrons may be less than good, depending, but to classify all warlocks as evil was like declaring bears simply did not shit in the woods. If Fjord had voiced those thoughts, Caleb would have informed him of that.

[barnaculled]

[ Thanks for letting me keep you up haha! ]

Five gold is still a lot to him, short of sailing across the most unruly ocean in Exandria.

"I confess I never learned all that much about magic. It didn't seem like an option for me without goin' into the service of a god."

And it had appealed much more to a young Fjord to get out on the water, to sail off where the sweat of his brow was the only thing that mattered.

He approaches Caleb, placing his hand beneath the human's for the exchange of gold. But when the other turns his palm over to put it there, Fjord will attempt to take the other's hand in a firm, cool grip.

"I won't let you down." He tells the wizard, golden gaze intense but earnest. "You've seen I'm a hard worker. I think you oughta know I'm reliable as well. I'll show you."

[war_mage_widogast]

Caleb does indeed reach out to turn over the coins but when Fjord takes his hand, he flinches, just a little, averting his gaze instantly before returning to looking at Fjord. He pulls away as soon as is polite, with a nod. "Well that is good. Reliability is a good trait, for an arcane caster."

[barnaculled]

Fjord takes note of Caleb's avoidance tactic, unsure if the human is simply unused to physical interaction or intimidated by emotion.

He gives Caleb a thin, but pleasant smile, quick enough to put his coin away into the purse that is settled within the breast of his armor.

"Reliability is good for anything." One brow cocks, offering a place for disagreement. Then, more gently"

"Did you get it? Everything you came to the Coast for? Was it what you expected it to be?"

[war_mage_widogast]

"I simply came to pick up a package. So yes, I suppose I do have everything I came for." He's here only to pick up the book, though he'd been here several days waiting for the skyship to arrive. "I need to study, however, so if you could give me my room I would appreciate it. I will meet you downstairs for dinner, yes?"

Caleb is not comfortable in general with strangers, and he does not know Fjord. He's more comfortable being alone with his cat. And he has work to do, anyways. He's intent on getting into the new book and starting work on deciphering it. At least, as much as can be done without the help of certain spells or other books.

[barnaculled]

The half-orc bows slightly at the neck and hips as the human more or less tells him he's over-stayed his welcome.

"Of course. I apologize if it seems like I'm interrogatin' you. I guess I just.. just feel like I wanna make sure you made the most of the trip, for all you're offerin' me. If there's anything I know, it's Port Damali."

That said, he straightens.

"Dinner." He confirms, accepting that the other man had other things to do. Without further preamble makes to exit the room.

But he will be down in the tavern come dinner time, a hardy meal of steak and eggs before him. These things were expensive for the Coast, at least this close to the sea. ]

[war_mage_widogast]

[Apologies for delay, it's been like Grog's Swamp Ass around here lately and also I started a new job so I'm kinda fried /lays down]

Caleb comes down to the tavern floor, still half in a book - not the book he'd come here for, that was safely away in its box in its pocket - and sits down, navigating half by fumbling touch and half by Frumpkin's eyes.

The cat leaps onto the table as Caleb sits. "You asked before if I had seen everything I wanted to here on the coast," he tells his book. "I am looking for a bookstore. One that might have unusual books, though any will do, really." He looks up from his pages but doesn't quite look at Fjord's face. Instead, his attention is caught by the steak and fried eggs.

He barely looks away from the plate when the barmaid comes by, a tray on her hip, "What can I get you, darling?" she asks, a mass of dark curls and a wide, friendly smile.

"Just a, um." He finally looks up at her, then squints a little. "Whatever is good," he finishes with. "I am not picky." He waves his hand a little and she nods and heads off, either too used to strange people in general, or used to Caleb in particular.

I made Destri up btw

[barnaculled]

[ ooc; Hey, no worries at all, obviously. I got caught up in 4th of July shenans and after cuz I'm a dirty American. I have to apologize for my slowness too, especially on the smut thread. I had to rewrite it like twice now bc of browser bullshit so that's why it's been delayed. ]

Fjord gets the pleasure of watching the human bump around before he finally finds the table he set aside for them both. He suppresses a smile of bemusement, though Caleb isn't likely to appreciate the effort in the least. As Caleb prompts him with thoughts of a book store, the sailor barely moves. He lets the waitress come through and listens, but catches her wrist before she goes.

"He wants the moon crawldads, oysters, and fried flysnap. Thank ya, Vissa." Fjord corrects the order before she goes. She nods again and heads off.

The half-orc regards his patron anew. "I can tell you about quite a few book stores like that here," He offers, "But if there's somethin' you're lookin' for specifically, I might narrow it down. Books usually come through here first, but most of 'em go up to Nicodranas. It's the Menagerie's capital of entertainment and intrigue for the most part. The rest of 'em, more specific things, tend to travel up north to Destri."

[war_mage_widogast]

[I hate it when that happens...]

"I am looking especially for tomes on magical theory, or spellbooks." Caleb finally sets down his book. It's plain, bound in a dark brown fabric, and no title or author visible, especially with the book closed.

"We do not have time to stop in Nicodranas, or Destri, unfortunately. I can get us back to Rexxentrum easily enough, but another stop would put us back a full day." And Master Ikithon was eager to get his hands on the prize they'd already waited weeks and weeks for. The adventurers that had found the book and sold it had no idea of its true worth.

[barnaculled]

Fjord hums, thoughtful, at the disclosure of what Caleb is after. He's not entirely convinced it's the truth, but he isn't going to question it yet, either.

"I know two places in Damali, then, that might have somethin' to interest you. I'm sorta sorry you can't make it up to Destri. Forgive me for an assumption, but with what I know of your station you seem studious and adept, and that's the place that has the most niche tomes so far as I know."

Fjord purses his lips, then offers a watery little smile.

"Some other time, perhaps."

[war_mage_widogast]

"Yes, perhaps we could take an overnight trip sometime to see the bookstores in Destri in the future. Returning with this book is the most important thing. We can delay until the afternoon, but no later than that."

Trent knew Caleb's hunger for knowledge and also his sometimes improbable luck finding magic books in unusual places.

"Perhaps also a used book store, there is sometimes good things to find there as well."