Chyril 27th - Late tradetide, early eveningtide
The Happenstance Bazaar
Callara had waited, patiently, silently. Waited in the wings of the city for the streets to start emptying. For the market square to start emptying of prospective buyers, but not quite late enough for the square's merchants to start packing up. The blood flowing around the square kept her mind busy and she had sat silently in the shade of a tree, meditating for a while upon the occurances earlier in the day.
She sought the parrot.
People were great pools of information for those who knew how to tap into them. Callara was not very good at interrogation, but quite good at listening. So she had sat and listened to the townsfolk speaking, speaking of their dreary daily lives. Speaking of the Parrot Parade. Speaking of the performers.
With her eyes shut she had spent a mark or so just observing with her ears, with the blood. Seeking information that would point her in the right direction. A name, a location, perhaps a stray performer she could follow. With one less sense to worry about she put into practice the words of her tutor and observed without watching.
Breathe in, breathe out.
The blood however was growing impatient and she could feel it tugging at her to take action. Without word of her target however there would be no place to begin so she urged it to silence and remained focused for the time being. Once the market square cleared out some more, had she no word she could always start asking around...
Breathe in, breathe out...
Her awareness tuned to the stories of the people, she had been aware that her presence might draw attention. Her clothing was unorthodox and her position, in the middle of the city, a woman alone sitting under a tree with her eyes closed, might draw unwanted attention.
Would any approach her she would have them meet with a sudden urge to go walk off a bridge...
Birds of a feather...die together - Chyril 27th - Open
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Birds of a feather...die together - Chyril 27th - Open
Last edited by Callara on Fri Apr 11, 2008 3:42 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader
Callara's Compendium
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Callara's Compendium
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Syra
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With the grand festivities of the day before there was hardly anything special or particularly crowded about the Bazaar today. Most of the merchants looked as if they'd rather stayed in bed and even the customers were lulled into a kind of tired silence, even though there was enough gentle hubbub to prove everyone had had a good time.
It wasn't hard to simply sit under her tree as the people walked past. There were more than enough citizens who'd love to follow her example as the sun was shining it's last marks of blessed warmth. As the tradetide progressed into eveningtide Callara started to stand out, people moving back home and merchants clearing out their stands.
The talk she'd picked up on was all about the almost stumble and the great dive the parrot took. There was also some murmering about a man who'd appearantly died of a heartattack that very same day. Yet most of the gossip was definitely about the costumes and the subsequent parties. The Fowls were mentioned, their carrot and parrot play well liked even if it had shocked some to the core to see someone stop the parrot bearer.
With eveningtide came the other kind of customers; the people who came scrounging for the free leftovers scattered on the shelves and bazaar floor. Right behind them were the cleaners, some of which in the familiar rusty uniforms.
"Lady, are you alright?" A friendly male voice asked Callara.
It wasn't hard to simply sit under her tree as the people walked past. There were more than enough citizens who'd love to follow her example as the sun was shining it's last marks of blessed warmth. As the tradetide progressed into eveningtide Callara started to stand out, people moving back home and merchants clearing out their stands.
The talk she'd picked up on was all about the almost stumble and the great dive the parrot took. There was also some murmering about a man who'd appearantly died of a heartattack that very same day. Yet most of the gossip was definitely about the costumes and the subsequent parties. The Fowls were mentioned, their carrot and parrot play well liked even if it had shocked some to the core to see someone stop the parrot bearer.
With eveningtide came the other kind of customers; the people who came scrounging for the free leftovers scattered on the shelves and bazaar floor. Right behind them were the cleaners, some of which in the familiar rusty uniforms.
"Lady, are you alright?" A friendly male voice asked Callara.
[size=75]Chocolate is not an addiction, it is a way of life.
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Callara sat patiently. Listening to the sounds of the city passing her by, watching the blood mull around her slowly. She was pleased that it's effects didn't induce the same pressure on her senses now as it had before, though she tried to keep her eyes shut as much as possible to avoid overloading herself with information.
The stories she picked up were rather what she had expected. At a certain point the Flightless Waterfowls were mentioned which peaked her attention.
"That might be an angle worth exploring."
If the man in the parrot outfit had been a Fowl, then they would certainly know who it had been among them. With all the people in the city noticing the "performance" their name was wide spread.
And even if the guy hadn't been a Fowl, then they would surely be able to point her in the right direction.
She noticed the mood starting to change, a different crowd gathering around her as dusk set in. "About time I go look around for those Fowls." She figured catching them in the evening would be easy as that was the time to perform at the inns which would most likely still be jam-packed with people. Also, darkness provided good cover to kill.
"Lady, are you alright?" A friendly male voice asked Callara.
Slowly she opened her eyes and blinked at the receding sunlight. While her view adjusted she focused it on the person whom it had belonged to. Without moving more than just her head she observed the person that had had the ordacity to interfere in her musing.
"Do I appear not to be?" She replied rather blankly.
The stories she picked up were rather what she had expected. At a certain point the Flightless Waterfowls were mentioned which peaked her attention.
"That might be an angle worth exploring."
If the man in the parrot outfit had been a Fowl, then they would certainly know who it had been among them. With all the people in the city noticing the "performance" their name was wide spread.
And even if the guy hadn't been a Fowl, then they would surely be able to point her in the right direction.
She noticed the mood starting to change, a different crowd gathering around her as dusk set in. "About time I go look around for those Fowls." She figured catching them in the evening would be easy as that was the time to perform at the inns which would most likely still be jam-packed with people. Also, darkness provided good cover to kill.
"Lady, are you alright?" A friendly male voice asked Callara.
Slowly she opened her eyes and blinked at the receding sunlight. While her view adjusted she focused it on the person whom it had belonged to. Without moving more than just her head she observed the person that had had the ordacity to interfere in her musing.
"Do I appear not to be?" She replied rather blankly.
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader
Callara's Compendium
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Callara's Compendium
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Syra
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An older man blinked his eyes at the direct answer. "Well...uh...I mean, the bazaar is closing. We uh...we're cleaning up. You were sitting here...and uh..." He looked at her, trying to figure out what her answer had meant -if anything.
"No offense, miss." He finally shrugged and moved on with his bag, picking up the remnants of another succesful market day. A couple of seagulls were fighting over some leftover grapes. The man scared them off with wild gestures and resumed his cleaning duties.
"No offense, miss." He finally shrugged and moved on with his bag, picking up the remnants of another succesful market day. A couple of seagulls were fighting over some leftover grapes. The man scared them off with wild gestures and resumed his cleaning duties.
[size=75]Chocolate is not an addiction, it is a way of life.
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Slowly Callara got up and dusted off her cloak. She stretched her limbs a little, feeling slightly sore from the meditation position she had taken for the better part of the past few marks. Her head felt clear enough and with the people dispersing the blood's grasp on her senses receded somewhat with the excersises she had practiced. It was still throbbing at the edge of her mind however, causing the headache to appear again as soon as she opened her eyes. Not as intense as before, but still annoying enough to make her want to leave.
"One thing." She addressed the man who had spoken to her before. "If one were to find the Flightless Waterfowls. Where might one look?"
"One thing." She addressed the man who had spoken to her before. "If one were to find the Flightless Waterfowls. Where might one look?"
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader
Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
"Hah!"
The sudden bark of laughter hadn't come from the cleaning man, of course. It came from Callara's other side, where Arnholt had just been walking by on his own business. So lost in thought was he with his plans that he'd hardly noticed the achadhiel until he was almost right on top of her. The fledgling cultist was dressed in his own dark leather breastplate and cloak, again or still. He had been somewhat surprised to see, in passing, someone else dressed almost identically. Seen out of the corner of his eye, it almost looked like a smaller doppelganger of himself. Perhaps he could be excused for his amusement, then, when his subsequent double-take revealed that the person under the other black cowl was a woman.
"Beg your pardon, miss," he said with a grin, and tugged at the edge of his own hood as if tipping a hat respectfully. "Looks like you and I share the same sense of fashion."
The sudden bark of laughter hadn't come from the cleaning man, of course. It came from Callara's other side, where Arnholt had just been walking by on his own business. So lost in thought was he with his plans that he'd hardly noticed the achadhiel until he was almost right on top of her. The fledgling cultist was dressed in his own dark leather breastplate and cloak, again or still. He had been somewhat surprised to see, in passing, someone else dressed almost identically. Seen out of the corner of his eye, it almost looked like a smaller doppelganger of himself. Perhaps he could be excused for his amusement, then, when his subsequent double-take revealed that the person under the other black cowl was a woman.
"Beg your pardon, miss," he said with a grin, and tugged at the edge of his own hood as if tipping a hat respectfully. "Looks like you and I share the same sense of fashion."
Callara turned her head to the man who had just spoken. More people around her meant more pain to deal with and the fact that he had interrupted her didn't add to her mood. She had been hoping to be in this city barely long enough to find the bird man and get out when he was dead, yet fate seemed to have a lacking sense of humor in sending idiots on her path to annoy her.
And yet...
It was indeed uncanny to find a man who appeared to be a monk, yet dressed in black rather than the usual browns, whites or grays she was used to from the clergy of this and other cities. Where her black and red clothing was a reflection of her newfound identity, she briefly wondered what his excuse would be to dress like that.
Her eyes narrowed as she fought the throbbing pain in her head and she had to actively stop herself from grasping her forehead before she chose to address this one.
"I do not seem to recall asking you something monk. And I am in no mood to discuss clothing. What kind of monk you are to notice such is beyond me, but unless you can add to the conversation you so rudely interrupted I suggest you make yourself scarce."
One of her hands went for her blade, aching to draw blood and fry this man's brain like hers was being pummeled by pain every day she spent in the midst of people. Her mind sent off all kinds of wrathful emotions directed at the mind of the monk unbeknownst to herself as her control was slipping.
"Must...focus...They are only a few people. Have to recall what Ushuaia told me."
She closed her eyes a flicker and tried to pull herself together again. The blood was drawing closer to the surface, which in itself she didn't mind. She relished it, hadn't it been for that DAMN HEADACHE!
And yet...
It was indeed uncanny to find a man who appeared to be a monk, yet dressed in black rather than the usual browns, whites or grays she was used to from the clergy of this and other cities. Where her black and red clothing was a reflection of her newfound identity, she briefly wondered what his excuse would be to dress like that.
Her eyes narrowed as she fought the throbbing pain in her head and she had to actively stop herself from grasping her forehead before she chose to address this one.
"I do not seem to recall asking you something monk. And I am in no mood to discuss clothing. What kind of monk you are to notice such is beyond me, but unless you can add to the conversation you so rudely interrupted I suggest you make yourself scarce."
One of her hands went for her blade, aching to draw blood and fry this man's brain like hers was being pummeled by pain every day she spent in the midst of people. Her mind sent off all kinds of wrathful emotions directed at the mind of the monk unbeknownst to herself as her control was slipping.
"Must...focus...They are only a few people. Have to recall what Ushuaia told me."
She closed her eyes a flicker and tried to pull herself together again. The blood was drawing closer to the surface, which in itself she didn't mind. She relished it, hadn't it been for that DAMN HEADACHE!
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader
Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
Callara's Compendium
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Syra
- The Chocolate Game Designer
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This seemed to be the perfect moment for the other man to get out of there. Whatever mood the lady was in, he did not intend on becoming the victim of it.
Let the monk deal with it! Dominicus knows they have more patience than I do! He thought, quickly crossing himself and getting a lot of distance between him and the twosome in a very short time.
Let the monk deal with it! Dominicus knows they have more patience than I do! He thought, quickly crossing himself and getting a lot of distance between him and the twosome in a very short time.
[size=75]Chocolate is not an addiction, it is a way of life.
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Arnholt'g grin merely widened at the girl's annoyed outburst. Not because he'd pissed her off, no: because she'd called him a monk. What's with everybody? This was at least the third time he'd been identified as a holy man when he was still wearing his "civilian" clothes. His thief clothes, actually. Did the hood really make that much of a difference? But hell, it had never occurred to him that this kid must therefore be a nun. It's the shaved head I guess. Either that, or I been giving off some kind of monk-vibe ever since I found Righteous.
But the cultist's smile soon turned to a snarl. He might not be magic-sensitive enough to know what was going on with Callara, but the suddenly dangerous atmosphere was difficult to miss. Anyway, he'd been on the streets long enough to recognize instantly when someone was about to draw a blade. "Wouldn't do that, sister," he ground out in decidedly un-monkish tones. Left hand still gripping his staff, he tossed back the edge of his cloak with his right, letting show the dagger at his belt. "Unless you really do want to find out what kind of 'monk' I am."
Naturally he wouldn't have done that if the cleaning man was still around. But the old guy had wisely buggered off. In the normal course of events, Arnholt would have followed his sage example. This young woman was clearly unstable. As a common mugger he would have steered well clear of any woman who'd pull a knife over a harmless joke. Except that where the old Arnholt would have seen "crazy bitch," the new Arnholt saw "potential cultist." Goddess of Justice or no, his first priority was not finding happy kumbaya-singing types just now. He needed believers who would be willing to fight and possibly die for Her. So, a high-strung, knife-happy loner was pretty much an ideal candidate for recruitment.
Righteous knows, her heart and mine may not be so different. As You speak to me, Goddess, and are my guide, perhaps you also brought me here for a reason...
"Dunno who you are," Arnholt drawled, "or what the hell your problem is... but if you tell me what you need, maybe I can help you. Anyway..." and he nodded to indicate that the cleaner had left. "... it seems I'm the only one here who's interested in talking with you. So what'll it be?"
But the cultist's smile soon turned to a snarl. He might not be magic-sensitive enough to know what was going on with Callara, but the suddenly dangerous atmosphere was difficult to miss. Anyway, he'd been on the streets long enough to recognize instantly when someone was about to draw a blade. "Wouldn't do that, sister," he ground out in decidedly un-monkish tones. Left hand still gripping his staff, he tossed back the edge of his cloak with his right, letting show the dagger at his belt. "Unless you really do want to find out what kind of 'monk' I am."
Naturally he wouldn't have done that if the cleaning man was still around. But the old guy had wisely buggered off. In the normal course of events, Arnholt would have followed his sage example. This young woman was clearly unstable. As a common mugger he would have steered well clear of any woman who'd pull a knife over a harmless joke. Except that where the old Arnholt would have seen "crazy bitch," the new Arnholt saw "potential cultist." Goddess of Justice or no, his first priority was not finding happy kumbaya-singing types just now. He needed believers who would be willing to fight and possibly die for Her. So, a high-strung, knife-happy loner was pretty much an ideal candidate for recruitment.
Righteous knows, her heart and mine may not be so different. As You speak to me, Goddess, and are my guide, perhaps you also brought me here for a reason...
"Dunno who you are," Arnholt drawled, "or what the hell your problem is... but if you tell me what you need, maybe I can help you. Anyway..." and he nodded to indicate that the cleaner had left. "... it seems I'm the only one here who's interested in talking with you. So what'll it be?"
"Interesting..."
Her hand removed itself from the blade, only to move up to her hood and remove it, revealing her long dark hair and the tell tale features of the achadhiel, to rugged to be adhiel, to refined to be human.
"You have guts. I have to say that. Oh, and don't worry, this blade was not meant for you at all." She was telling the truth. She had yet to test the true potence of drawing the blood of another to activate the blood's potential, having only used her own thus far.
"Who knows, it may still come to that."
"Dunno who you are," Arnholt drawled, "or what the hell your problem is... but if you tell me what you need, maybe I can help you. Anyway..." and he nodded to indicate that the cleaner had left. "... it seems I'm the only one here who's interested in talking with you. So what'll it be?"
Her eyes trailed briefly after the old man who had skittered off down the street. "Wouldn't be the first time I was left to my own devices. And by all means it suits me just as well." Her headache relieved with one less source of living blood around she managed to think more clearly. From the tone in the man's voice he was obviously not a monk. Certainly not of any religion she had ever come across anyway. One that would prefer a blade fight over turning the other cheek was rare. So what was this man then? A thug? Nah, he seemed...more dignified than that. A noble? Clothes and attitude didn't match. Whoever he was he held himself quite well where many before had faltered, which was worth exploring in Callara's eyes.
"One draws a blade on you and you offer assistance..." She looked him up and down as if inspecting a new dress on a manequin. "Interesting approach. Perhaps you can help me then. I currently seek those that call themselves the Flightless Waterfowls. I have some matters to discuss with one of them but I do not frequent the city that commonly anymore so I have no clue where they might be located."
"There is something about this one..."
Her hand removed itself from the blade, only to move up to her hood and remove it, revealing her long dark hair and the tell tale features of the achadhiel, to rugged to be adhiel, to refined to be human.
"You have guts. I have to say that. Oh, and don't worry, this blade was not meant for you at all." She was telling the truth. She had yet to test the true potence of drawing the blood of another to activate the blood's potential, having only used her own thus far.
"Who knows, it may still come to that."
"Dunno who you are," Arnholt drawled, "or what the hell your problem is... but if you tell me what you need, maybe I can help you. Anyway..." and he nodded to indicate that the cleaner had left. "... it seems I'm the only one here who's interested in talking with you. So what'll it be?"
Her eyes trailed briefly after the old man who had skittered off down the street. "Wouldn't be the first time I was left to my own devices. And by all means it suits me just as well." Her headache relieved with one less source of living blood around she managed to think more clearly. From the tone in the man's voice he was obviously not a monk. Certainly not of any religion she had ever come across anyway. One that would prefer a blade fight over turning the other cheek was rare. So what was this man then? A thug? Nah, he seemed...more dignified than that. A noble? Clothes and attitude didn't match. Whoever he was he held himself quite well where many before had faltered, which was worth exploring in Callara's eyes.
"One draws a blade on you and you offer assistance..." She looked him up and down as if inspecting a new dress on a manequin. "Interesting approach. Perhaps you can help me then. I currently seek those that call themselves the Flightless Waterfowls. I have some matters to discuss with one of them but I do not frequent the city that commonly anymore so I have no clue where they might be located."
"There is something about this one..."
Last edited by Callara on Sat May 10, 2008 2:33 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader
Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
Arnholt relaxed minutely, letting his cloak fall over his dagger again, though he kept his grip on the staff. He resumed his easy smile, as well. The cultist wasn't one to get bent out of shape for long over a minor bit of unpleasantness. If he did entertain some doubts as to who that blade had been meant for, he was gentleman enough not to say so. At least the girl had proved she wasn't completely off her rocker. And besides, to him at least, her mixed blood was a mark in her favor. Didn't make much sense, rationally... but he'd gotten to like elves and elf-kin lately. And... all of Righteous' followers were adhiel or achadhiel. At least until I came along. That was worth something. Even in this elf-friendly city, an achadhiel like this one might have a grudge that Righteous could soothe.
After a flicker's hesitation, the cultist echoed Callara's gesture, pushing back his own hood as well. The face he revealed was decidedly human, of course, and his head sported no hair whatsoever, except for the mustache and beard. Arnholt hadn't set out to look like a monk when he'd shaved his head. Different was all he'd been going for. Still, his bald pate had to contribute, somewhat, to the way everyone kept identifying him as a holy man. And it wasn't too hard to see in his eyes that same sort of conviction enjoyed by regular men and women of strong faith. A weird study in contrasts, all told; but then he wasn't sure what to make of Callara, either. Based on her own poise and confidence, his first thought was she might be some nobleman's brat, out slumming.
Arnholt's eyes narrowed at the girl's request, his mind racing to come up with something convincing in order to avoid losing her interest. "The Flightless Waterfowls? I might know something. If you would... ah, fuck it." With a short bark of laughter, Arnholt abandoned his effort to snow the mystery girl before he had hardly begun it. Bread and pie, Her book had said. Bread first. He would never make friends and influence people by proving himself to be a bullshitter within the first five burns of their acquaintance. "Never mind. Truth is, I wouldn't know, on account of I'm new to this city. Just got here yesterday. But... I can maybe still help you out. I'm a people person, you see. And I already made a friend or two in this city. I could ask around, spare you having to bump elbows with the unwashed masses."
Spoken casually, as if he was offering to direct her to the nearest inn free of charge. Though of course he was angling, among other things, to find out what the young woman really wanted. Since the Flightless Waterfowls sounded like a gang name to him (In Roque? Really?), Arnholt tried slipping in a little cant. "You're a lone wolf, maybe? Nothing wrong with that. But even the best of us could use a friend or two to watch our backs. A few birds of a feather, so to speak. Or at least some hired help."
After a flicker's hesitation, the cultist echoed Callara's gesture, pushing back his own hood as well. The face he revealed was decidedly human, of course, and his head sported no hair whatsoever, except for the mustache and beard. Arnholt hadn't set out to look like a monk when he'd shaved his head. Different was all he'd been going for. Still, his bald pate had to contribute, somewhat, to the way everyone kept identifying him as a holy man. And it wasn't too hard to see in his eyes that same sort of conviction enjoyed by regular men and women of strong faith. A weird study in contrasts, all told; but then he wasn't sure what to make of Callara, either. Based on her own poise and confidence, his first thought was she might be some nobleman's brat, out slumming.
"Like you said, I'm a man of the cloth. It's my job to be helpful." He left it to her to decide whether or not he was being ironic with that. (Ironically, he wasn't.)"One draws a blade on you and you offer assistance..." She looked him up and down as if inspecting a new dress on a manequin. "Interesting approach. Perhaps you can help me then. I currently seek those that call themselves the Flightless Waterfowls. I have some matters to discuss with one of them but I do not frequent the city that commonly anymore so I have no clue where they might be located."
Arnholt's eyes narrowed at the girl's request, his mind racing to come up with something convincing in order to avoid losing her interest. "The Flightless Waterfowls? I might know something. If you would... ah, fuck it." With a short bark of laughter, Arnholt abandoned his effort to snow the mystery girl before he had hardly begun it. Bread and pie, Her book had said. Bread first. He would never make friends and influence people by proving himself to be a bullshitter within the first five burns of their acquaintance. "Never mind. Truth is, I wouldn't know, on account of I'm new to this city. Just got here yesterday. But... I can maybe still help you out. I'm a people person, you see. And I already made a friend or two in this city. I could ask around, spare you having to bump elbows with the unwashed masses."
Spoken casually, as if he was offering to direct her to the nearest inn free of charge. Though of course he was angling, among other things, to find out what the young woman really wanted. Since the Flightless Waterfowls sounded like a gang name to him (In Roque? Really?), Arnholt tried slipping in a little cant. "You're a lone wolf, maybe? Nothing wrong with that. But even the best of us could use a friend or two to watch our backs. A few birds of a feather, so to speak. Or at least some hired help."
OOC: I'm presuming Cal can read Arnholt's aura on a basic level. If I'm pushing, please correct me.
The man started to weave his little web of lies. She could see the decisive color of deceit creeping into the spectrum surrounding him, echo'ing his emotions. But just like that he dropped the act and switched to honesty instead.
"Odd...This guy wants something but seems unsure as how to obtain it."
His offer to aid her seemed genuine enough to her, yet his motives were elusive. His mind a mystery to her. She felt no need to bend or break it, feeling secure in the thought that she could if she wanted to. This one had an agenda much like everyone else in this city it seemed.
Much like herself.
"You are a strange man. But that's what I've come to expect of this town. Strange people in a strange place. You choose the truth which tells me you are of no direct use to me, but if what you say is true then there might still be purpose to our encounter."
Callara considered her options. The man looked dangerous. Not by his appearance per se, nor by his actions. But there was an extra layer to him. One that she needed to unravel before they could proceed. If he was to be of any use to her he would need to know who was in charge. And...she would need to know who this man was and what he wanted.
"The city bores me, it is getting late and I feel hungry. If you wish to be helpful then you can do one little errand for me before we continue this talk of birds, as you so aptly put it." She thought on the matter a flicker longer and then replaced her hood over her head. "Inns are not my favorite spot. The Blue Parrot has some excellent fish however. Get them to prepare some for two people and bring it to the Summer Palace. Tell the guards you were sent for by the Caretaker. Do this and we will talk further. If you chose not to, all the same."
"Let's see how far this guy is willing to go..." She nodded and turned around, walking briskly upwards from the market square towards the Summer Palace which loomed on the cliffs high above the city.
"If he shows, he may be of use to me. If he doesn't then I will go to the inn myself in a little while and ask around there myself." The thought of a large gathering of people didn't appeal to her. But if she didn't find someone to do it for her then what else was she to do. And even though this man did not appear to be the common variety of peon, his own agenda might just push him to do what she wanted him to do...
The man started to weave his little web of lies. She could see the decisive color of deceit creeping into the spectrum surrounding him, echo'ing his emotions. But just like that he dropped the act and switched to honesty instead.
"Odd...This guy wants something but seems unsure as how to obtain it."
His offer to aid her seemed genuine enough to her, yet his motives were elusive. His mind a mystery to her. She felt no need to bend or break it, feeling secure in the thought that she could if she wanted to. This one had an agenda much like everyone else in this city it seemed.
Much like herself.
"You are a strange man. But that's what I've come to expect of this town. Strange people in a strange place. You choose the truth which tells me you are of no direct use to me, but if what you say is true then there might still be purpose to our encounter."
Callara considered her options. The man looked dangerous. Not by his appearance per se, nor by his actions. But there was an extra layer to him. One that she needed to unravel before they could proceed. If he was to be of any use to her he would need to know who was in charge. And...she would need to know who this man was and what he wanted.
"The city bores me, it is getting late and I feel hungry. If you wish to be helpful then you can do one little errand for me before we continue this talk of birds, as you so aptly put it." She thought on the matter a flicker longer and then replaced her hood over her head. "Inns are not my favorite spot. The Blue Parrot has some excellent fish however. Get them to prepare some for two people and bring it to the Summer Palace. Tell the guards you were sent for by the Caretaker. Do this and we will talk further. If you chose not to, all the same."
"Let's see how far this guy is willing to go..." She nodded and turned around, walking briskly upwards from the market square towards the Summer Palace which loomed on the cliffs high above the city.
"If he shows, he may be of use to me. If he doesn't then I will go to the inn myself in a little while and ask around there myself." The thought of a large gathering of people didn't appeal to her. But if she didn't find someone to do it for her then what else was she to do. And even though this man did not appear to be the common variety of peon, his own agenda might just push him to do what she wanted him to do...
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader
Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
OOC: For my part I would have no objections, since Arnholt wouldn't be trying to hide his aura.
IC: "Yeah," Arnholt answered dryly. "Lot of strange folks in this town. I've noticed that." And with regards to her instructions, "Why not? I haven't eaten yet, either."
He returned her parting nod with one of his own, and watched her as she departed. Decidedly un-monklike, his eyes even dipped to her rear, not that he had a terribly good view of it (what with her cloak being in the way). Caretaker of the Summer Palace, hmm? Most likely a noblewoman, then. Which would also explain her confidence, and why she expected that he'd be willing to wait on her. Except... the whole caretaker thing didn't really ring true. The Summer Palace was very much King's Court's foothold in Roque. Surely, then, the caretaker would be a King's Court woman. But this girl pretty clearly wasn't. Besides which, if she really had guards at her disposal, why was it her feet pounding the streets instead of some of theirs?
Definitely more to that one than meets the eye. Thoughtfully, the fledgling cultist pulled out the Eye of Righteous and held it cupped in his palm, meeting the gaze of his Goddess, so to speak. "Righteous," he said in the faintest of murmurs. "Goddess of Justice, I cherish you. You give me purpose, as Lorenzo promised You would. You give me the strength and the courage to cleanse the world of its wickedness. Perhaps, then, You will see fit to share some of Your wisdom, as well. What do You think of this 'Caretaker?' What secret is she hiding? Please hear my request, and be my guide."
It was an experiment, as much as anything else. Here, in the gloom and with next to no one on the streets, it seemed safe enough to venture another effort at contact with Righteous. Even should a passer-by spot him, all they'd really see was a man admiring his own jewelry. Whether or not Arnholt's prayer was answered, one thing was certain. At the very least he would go to the Blue Parrot. Since the Caretaker had expressed a familiarity with the menu there, it might be a good place to ask a question or two about her. And about the Flightless Waterfowls, of course. At least he might get a better idea of exactly whom he was involving himself with before he actually went to beard the dragon lady in her lair.
IC: "Yeah," Arnholt answered dryly. "Lot of strange folks in this town. I've noticed that." And with regards to her instructions, "Why not? I haven't eaten yet, either."
He returned her parting nod with one of his own, and watched her as she departed. Decidedly un-monklike, his eyes even dipped to her rear, not that he had a terribly good view of it (what with her cloak being in the way). Caretaker of the Summer Palace, hmm? Most likely a noblewoman, then. Which would also explain her confidence, and why she expected that he'd be willing to wait on her. Except... the whole caretaker thing didn't really ring true. The Summer Palace was very much King's Court's foothold in Roque. Surely, then, the caretaker would be a King's Court woman. But this girl pretty clearly wasn't. Besides which, if she really had guards at her disposal, why was it her feet pounding the streets instead of some of theirs?
Definitely more to that one than meets the eye. Thoughtfully, the fledgling cultist pulled out the Eye of Righteous and held it cupped in his palm, meeting the gaze of his Goddess, so to speak. "Righteous," he said in the faintest of murmurs. "Goddess of Justice, I cherish you. You give me purpose, as Lorenzo promised You would. You give me the strength and the courage to cleanse the world of its wickedness. Perhaps, then, You will see fit to share some of Your wisdom, as well. What do You think of this 'Caretaker?' What secret is she hiding? Please hear my request, and be my guide."
It was an experiment, as much as anything else. Here, in the gloom and with next to no one on the streets, it seemed safe enough to venture another effort at contact with Righteous. Even should a passer-by spot him, all they'd really see was a man admiring his own jewelry. Whether or not Arnholt's prayer was answered, one thing was certain. At the very least he would go to the Blue Parrot. Since the Caretaker had expressed a familiarity with the menu there, it might be a good place to ask a question or two about her. And about the Flightless Waterfowls, of course. At least he might get a better idea of exactly whom he was involving himself with before he actually went to beard the dragon lady in her lair.
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Callara managed a glimmer of aura on Arnholt, much like taking a glimpse of a passing runner as opposed to being able to study them full-on at length, but it gave her the information that she wanted if only in summary form. As for Arnholt’s communication with his goddess, there was no ‘divine’ wind to turn his pages this time, nor were there burning bushes, strange whispers, or other sorts of signs – that he was aware of, at least. All that could be heard in the near-empty bazaar was the whistling of a lone custodian and the chirping of a few birds flying overhead.
Daemons come out at night...and so do the rats.
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"Fine by me," Arnholt whispered. "God helps he who helps himself. And that goes double for You. Isn't that right."
It was not quite a question. With at least two generations of past cultists lying slaughtered, it was a given that Righteous could not and would not do everything for her faithful. The fledgling cultist tucked the Eye away again and pulled out his map of Roque, instead, trailing his finger over the parchment until he had traced a path to the Blue Parrot. Whistling a jaunty little tune on his own, the off-key melody punctuated with sharp raps of his staff against the street, Arnholt was on his way.
(OOC: Guess I'll start a new thread at the Blue Parrot.)
It was not quite a question. With at least two generations of past cultists lying slaughtered, it was a given that Righteous could not and would not do everything for her faithful. The fledgling cultist tucked the Eye away again and pulled out his map of Roque, instead, trailing his finger over the parchment until he had traced a path to the Blue Parrot. Whistling a jaunty little tune on his own, the off-key melody punctuated with sharp raps of his staff against the street, Arnholt was on his way.
(OOC: Guess I'll start a new thread at the Blue Parrot.)
Callara pathed her way back up the cliffs, where she halted a burn or two atop the majestic rocks overseeing the Mer. Her eyes fell on the birds that were no doubt still scowering the cliffsides and the beach, searching for a meal.
"Birds of a feather...sheesh..."
She reached out her hand towards one of the flying rodents that soared overhead. Seagulls and other scavenger birds usually abound near the coastal town. Her mind reached out to one of them. A shot in the dark, but all this hunting for birds had kept one thought alive in her mind.
Come here and obey!
It had worked on humans before, simple commands for complex minds. Now, as she waited for the odd fellow to return to her (if he ever would), was as good a time as ever to try out another little theory of hers.
"Birds of a feather...sheesh..."
She reached out her hand towards one of the flying rodents that soared overhead. Seagulls and other scavenger birds usually abound near the coastal town. Her mind reached out to one of them. A shot in the dark, but all this hunting for birds had kept one thought alive in her mind.
Come here and obey!
It had worked on humans before, simple commands for complex minds. Now, as she waited for the odd fellow to return to her (if he ever would), was as good a time as ever to try out another little theory of hers.
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader
Callara's Compendium
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Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
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Gutter Rat
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OOC: First and foremost, this is not personal, k? 
The human mind may be far more complex than a bird’s, but human thought and avian thought were still like oil and water when it came to mind control. In fact, it was as if Callera were doing nothing much at all as far as the fat seagull was concerned, besides just standing there in the open waving her hand in the air to attract attention.
The gull’s belly was distended beyond normal comfort, but the thought of just one more tidbit struck his fancy as he began to slowly glide downward toward her hand, his dark eyes searching her fingers for something tasty to nibble. He found naught, however, but empty fingers calling him and so, just when it looked to Callera as if he was indeed doing her bidding, the gull banked his wings slightly and rose once more, passing safely overhead with a small squawk of relief as his tight belly gave a single constriction and the pressure within his body suddenly lightened.
Callera may not have gotten her wish of an obedient flying slave, but she gained two very important lessons free of charge.
The first, as she would note by the gull’s non-compliance, was that enslaving a bird’s mind was something that she would probably have to learn with a subject captive in a cage.
The second, as she would note by the healthy peppered splatter on her chest that only missed her face by a fraction of a flicker, was not to stand directly below a flock of birds after feeding time.
The human mind may be far more complex than a bird’s, but human thought and avian thought were still like oil and water when it came to mind control. In fact, it was as if Callera were doing nothing much at all as far as the fat seagull was concerned, besides just standing there in the open waving her hand in the air to attract attention.
The gull’s belly was distended beyond normal comfort, but the thought of just one more tidbit struck his fancy as he began to slowly glide downward toward her hand, his dark eyes searching her fingers for something tasty to nibble. He found naught, however, but empty fingers calling him and so, just when it looked to Callera as if he was indeed doing her bidding, the gull banked his wings slightly and rose once more, passing safely overhead with a small squawk of relief as his tight belly gave a single constriction and the pressure within his body suddenly lightened.
Callera may not have gotten her wish of an obedient flying slave, but she gained two very important lessons free of charge.
The first, as she would note by the gull’s non-compliance, was that enslaving a bird’s mind was something that she would probably have to learn with a subject captive in a cage.
The second, as she would note by the healthy peppered splatter on her chest that only missed her face by a fraction of a flicker, was not to stand directly below a flock of birds after feeding time.
Last edited by Gutter Rat on Wed May 21, 2008 2:55 am, edited 1 time in total.
Daemons come out at night...and so do the rats.
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The blood raged within her immediately as she peered at the seemingly insolent act committed upon her form.
You dare defy me?!
Her heart started pounding, her head filled with anger. The blood soared through her as it urged her to strike, even if it was just a meaningless bird acting upon nature's call. Filled with the energy of yesterday's kill, conserved within and now again called out to exact death upon an innocent life.
Then DIE!
She focused this time not on the mind but on the blood of the bird, seeking to halt it inside of it's body. If this was how it was going to be, then so be it. All that would oppose her would die. And she had to start somewhere to uphold that ideal.
Those that will not heed my call, shall serve as dinner for the dogs...
Though this bird was not quite as large or as blue as she had hoped to kill this day, somehow it made her feel good to at least have something die before dusk.
You dare defy me?!
Her heart started pounding, her head filled with anger. The blood soared through her as it urged her to strike, even if it was just a meaningless bird acting upon nature's call. Filled with the energy of yesterday's kill, conserved within and now again called out to exact death upon an innocent life.
Then DIE!
She focused this time not on the mind but on the blood of the bird, seeking to halt it inside of it's body. If this was how it was going to be, then so be it. All that would oppose her would die. And she had to start somewhere to uphold that ideal.
Those that will not heed my call, shall serve as dinner for the dogs...
Though this bird was not quite as large or as blue as she had hoped to kill this day, somehow it made her feel good to at least have something die before dusk.
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader
Callara's Compendium
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Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
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Gutter Rat
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Some lessons in life come the hard way like the skinned knees of a child who suddenly realizes the downside of moving faster than a walk, the spilled ink on a parchment by someone not taking note of the inkwell’s position on the table, or the magic of a young mage when she adds in both distraction and the chaos of anger and disappointment. The blood called to her… it sang through her… but, due to the syncopated rhythm of disappointments from both the parade and the failed bird call, the blood sang off-key and out of pitch, causing that which she hoped to happen to not happen and something which she had probably never thought to happen to occur.
Living creatures are strange in the aspect that they refuse to leave their mortal bodies behind with full bladder and bowel and so, mere flickers before their bodies erupted in small explosions of gore and viscera, Callara was subjected to yet more rain of the fecal variety as the pressure from both their expanding bodies and immediate deaths caused a handful of gulls directly overhead to evacuate and expire, the blood and body parts seeming to hang in mid-air long enough to allow the defecate to splatter before joining it in decorating Callara’s cloak, face, hands, and a small circle of ground at her feet.
Gravity proved itself to be just as cold as Callara herself and the blood showed her that, at this early stage in the game, that control was still a shaky thing at best if not centered as her intended target, out of range from her area of effect, flew off without even a single feather ruffled.
Living creatures are strange in the aspect that they refuse to leave their mortal bodies behind with full bladder and bowel and so, mere flickers before their bodies erupted in small explosions of gore and viscera, Callara was subjected to yet more rain of the fecal variety as the pressure from both their expanding bodies and immediate deaths caused a handful of gulls directly overhead to evacuate and expire, the blood and body parts seeming to hang in mid-air long enough to allow the defecate to splatter before joining it in decorating Callara’s cloak, face, hands, and a small circle of ground at her feet.
Gravity proved itself to be just as cold as Callara herself and the blood showed her that, at this early stage in the game, that control was still a shaky thing at best if not centered as her intended target, out of range from her area of effect, flew off without even a single feather ruffled.
Last edited by Gutter Rat on Thu May 22, 2008 5:53 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Daemons come out at night...and so do the rats.
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Callara stood in awe for a few flickers, unable to move or react as she was subjected to the demeaning rain that poured down on her. She just looked up as the birds came plummeting down, following their own blood and excrement.
And then she laughed.
Loudly, hard. She laughed.
She hadn't laughed for days, weeks maybe but now apparently all she could do was laugh. She didn't think really, didn't consider her appearance or the effect her emotions had had on the volatile storm inside of her.
She just laughed.
"It worked."
Her mind had always been a logical one. From when she and her sister had been little she had always been the silent, contemplative one. A little less silent now she was still as contemplative as before and her acute mind reached conclusions before her concious mind caught up.
"IT WORKED! DAMN YOU IT WORKED!"
No matter the outcome of her magic, she had never witnessed her will actually destroying a life. She had seen a guard slump onto the ground at her command, dieing flickers later but he had not been dead when he dropped. She had felt power coarse through her after she had outed the wish to destroy back during the parade, but she had not seen a man drop dead.
But these birds...
She had not only killed one, she killed more than one at the same time, and not only did they die, they nearly outright exploded.
Her cry of pure joy echo'ed across the cliff face. She had seen and felt her own powers at work for the first time truly. She had wished something and it came to pass. She held life in her hands. Though execution was lacking in finesse, that was something she could work on.
Making mental notes about her feelings and emotions during the trial, she walked home, urging the undoubtedly surprised gate guards to open the gate without really minding their presence.
She was just about to pass them, as another thought she had nearly neglected shot to the forefront of her brain.
"There might be a man that seeks entrance to the grounds. Dressed in black, shaved head, he'll have food with him. If he asks to enter you can let him in, I expect to speak with him. If he does not show, he doesn't."
Her mind was racing over the ramifications of this experiment and she could not wait to get her hands on a quill and some parchment to jot down her ideas.
After she had had a bath and a change of clothes...
And then she laughed.
Loudly, hard. She laughed.
She hadn't laughed for days, weeks maybe but now apparently all she could do was laugh. She didn't think really, didn't consider her appearance or the effect her emotions had had on the volatile storm inside of her.
She just laughed.
"It worked."
Her mind had always been a logical one. From when she and her sister had been little she had always been the silent, contemplative one. A little less silent now she was still as contemplative as before and her acute mind reached conclusions before her concious mind caught up.
"IT WORKED! DAMN YOU IT WORKED!"
No matter the outcome of her magic, she had never witnessed her will actually destroying a life. She had seen a guard slump onto the ground at her command, dieing flickers later but he had not been dead when he dropped. She had felt power coarse through her after she had outed the wish to destroy back during the parade, but she had not seen a man drop dead.
But these birds...
She had not only killed one, she killed more than one at the same time, and not only did they die, they nearly outright exploded.
Her cry of pure joy echo'ed across the cliff face. She had seen and felt her own powers at work for the first time truly. She had wished something and it came to pass. She held life in her hands. Though execution was lacking in finesse, that was something she could work on.
Making mental notes about her feelings and emotions during the trial, she walked home, urging the undoubtedly surprised gate guards to open the gate without really minding their presence.
She was just about to pass them, as another thought she had nearly neglected shot to the forefront of her brain.
"There might be a man that seeks entrance to the grounds. Dressed in black, shaved head, he'll have food with him. If he asks to enter you can let him in, I expect to speak with him. If he does not show, he doesn't."
Her mind was racing over the ramifications of this experiment and she could not wait to get her hands on a quill and some parchment to jot down her ideas.
After she had had a bath and a change of clothes...
Last edited by Callara on Fri May 23, 2008 6:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader
Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
Unaware of exploding birds and other drama since their odd meeting before, Arnholt arrived triumphantly at the gate of the Summer Palace perhaps a mark or so after having departed to fetch dinner. Having seen the grandeur of the actual Royal Palace firsthand, the cultist was, on first glance, somewhat underwhelmed. Call this a palace? It hardly held a candle to the real thing. All fluff and frill, rather than solid practicality. Though he had to concede the place had a certain beauty that the true castle lacked. Maybe it's more impressive in day-time.
"Evening, friends," he greeted any guards who might be on duty. "The caretaker invited me to dinner. On me. She said you'd be expecting me."
"Evening, friends," he greeted any guards who might be on duty. "The caretaker invited me to dinner. On me. She said you'd be expecting me."
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Gutter Rat
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The guards had nodded silently at Callara’s order, taking the brief description into mind as the mage made her way past the gates. Time ticked slowly by for them, crawling the way it usually does when your entire job consists of watching and, if fate smiled upon you, roving. It was no big event for them, however, when Arnholt showed. It was simply a footnote in the giant Book of Boredom that remained unwritten.
“Eveningtide, sir.†One drawled giving him a look over. “Bald. Dressed in black.†He nodded to the other guard who unlatched the gate and started to open it. “This is our guy. Box is…†he continued, bending at the waist to sniff the packaging as if he were a guard dog Kanthrop too tired to shift form. “Fish. Blue Parrot by the knotting, so I am guessing untampered.†He stated. Many of the guards around Roque, especially the palace, had memorized knots used by places like the Blue Parrot and considered many of them to be the equivalent of a signature or notary seal.
“You may pass…†the guard continued, nodding to a third guard who was busy writing something in his ledger, presumably filling in the ‘reason for visit’ and ‘time’ portions of a log table. “…but your name and occupation need to stay with him, mmmkay? Have a good meal, sir.â€
The guard gave a small smile to Arnholt and stepped out of the man’s way.
“Eveningtide, sir.†One drawled giving him a look over. “Bald. Dressed in black.†He nodded to the other guard who unlatched the gate and started to open it. “This is our guy. Box is…†he continued, bending at the waist to sniff the packaging as if he were a guard dog Kanthrop too tired to shift form. “Fish. Blue Parrot by the knotting, so I am guessing untampered.†He stated. Many of the guards around Roque, especially the palace, had memorized knots used by places like the Blue Parrot and considered many of them to be the equivalent of a signature or notary seal.
“You may pass…†the guard continued, nodding to a third guard who was busy writing something in his ledger, presumably filling in the ‘reason for visit’ and ‘time’ portions of a log table. “…but your name and occupation need to stay with him, mmmkay? Have a good meal, sir.â€
The guard gave a small smile to Arnholt and stepped out of the man’s way.
Daemons come out at night...and so do the rats.
Posting availability: Almost daily, if I can swing it.
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Callara had spent most of the past mark bathing. Something about a nice bath, be it hot or cold made her feel good. While she was soaking she mused over a thousand thoughts that soared through her mind, which was clear of preoccupation as there was no blood around to mess with her senses. Little Sun had stayed hidden, most likely snoozing in the arboretum where she had seen it last. The wisp like critter made her smile.
After she had gotten enough wrinkles from the water and felt clean enough, she dried off, dropped her dirty clothes in the bathwater to let them soak for a while and dressed in one of the more casual dresses she had snagged from her bedroom the day she walked out of her uncle's house. It was one of the dresses that had made the trip with her from Kislovan, a simple thing she used to wear often but which had fallen into disuse after her transition to a more pronounced fashion sense. Now the light dress accentuated her dark hair which she combed and left hanging loose over her shoulders to dry further in the warm spring air that hung in the palace. She had made sure to crack a few windows on her way inside, still trying to get the stale air from moons of neglect out of the hallways and chambers of the palace.
So now she sat in the library, penning down random thoughts and musings on what she had discovered when her mind told her that someone was approaching. Or rather...something containing a quantity of blood larger than that of the miscellaneous critters inhabiting the grounds. It was difficult to make out what it was exactly from this distance, so she decided to stay in the library until such a time as the being would make itself known. She guessed it was the odd fellow who was bringing her food, but that was merely guessing. It might as well be one of the guards on his round or a large bird perching on the balcony.
Time would tell...
After she had gotten enough wrinkles from the water and felt clean enough, she dried off, dropped her dirty clothes in the bathwater to let them soak for a while and dressed in one of the more casual dresses she had snagged from her bedroom the day she walked out of her uncle's house. It was one of the dresses that had made the trip with her from Kislovan, a simple thing she used to wear often but which had fallen into disuse after her transition to a more pronounced fashion sense. Now the light dress accentuated her dark hair which she combed and left hanging loose over her shoulders to dry further in the warm spring air that hung in the palace. She had made sure to crack a few windows on her way inside, still trying to get the stale air from moons of neglect out of the hallways and chambers of the palace.
So now she sat in the library, penning down random thoughts and musings on what she had discovered when her mind told her that someone was approaching. Or rather...something containing a quantity of blood larger than that of the miscellaneous critters inhabiting the grounds. It was difficult to make out what it was exactly from this distance, so she decided to stay in the library until such a time as the being would make itself known. She guessed it was the odd fellow who was bringing her food, but that was merely guessing. It might as well be one of the guards on his round or a large bird perching on the balcony.
Time would tell...
Last edited by Callara on Wed Jun 04, 2008 6:46 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"You underestimate the Power of the Dark Side" - Darth Vader
Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
Callara's Compendium
Avatar drawn and edited by me, tweaked by QC.
Arnholt looked at the lead guard somewhat dubiously. "You get many people trying to poison the caretaker here, sir?" he asked mildly.
Guess she wasn't sure of me, neither. Or else the woman's guards had reason to be highly paranoid. Either way, the situation just kept getting stranger. The very fact that there were actual guards on duty here was probably a good sign: that, and the fact they had been expecting him, meant he hadn't been suckered. On the other hand, his formal reception here seemed strangely at odds with what he would have expected from the borderline-psychotic young woman he'd met not long before. The cultist couldn't help but suspect he wasn't the only one around here living a double life.
"Bram Beacon," he told the second guard. "Religious scholar, and man of God." To both he said, "And a good e'en tide to you, sirs," as he slipped on into the palace. "Blessings of the One God be with you."
Callara would have heard Arnholt coming long before she saw him, since he was whistling a hymn and tapping his staff like anything, as was his habit (or rather, 'Bram Beacon's' habit). It might have been a while before he finally made his way to the library, though, since no one had told him where the caretaker might be. So he pretty much just wandered about the palace at random... inspecting the place with a thief's practiced eye all the while ...until some kind soul observed his confusion and provided him with directions as to the caretaker's current whereabouts, or he just found his way on his own.
"There was no need to change on my account," he greeted the achadhiel dryly. "Though I must admit you look fetching. Speaking of which..." and Arnholt hefted the boxed fish briefly. "Since I've fetched dinner, perhaps you'll grace me with your name." Cool and businesslike, now, his tone belying his playful words.
Guess she wasn't sure of me, neither. Or else the woman's guards had reason to be highly paranoid. Either way, the situation just kept getting stranger. The very fact that there were actual guards on duty here was probably a good sign: that, and the fact they had been expecting him, meant he hadn't been suckered. On the other hand, his formal reception here seemed strangely at odds with what he would have expected from the borderline-psychotic young woman he'd met not long before. The cultist couldn't help but suspect he wasn't the only one around here living a double life.
"Bram Beacon," he told the second guard. "Religious scholar, and man of God." To both he said, "And a good e'en tide to you, sirs," as he slipped on into the palace. "Blessings of the One God be with you."
Callara would have heard Arnholt coming long before she saw him, since he was whistling a hymn and tapping his staff like anything, as was his habit (or rather, 'Bram Beacon's' habit). It might have been a while before he finally made his way to the library, though, since no one had told him where the caretaker might be. So he pretty much just wandered about the palace at random... inspecting the place with a thief's practiced eye all the while ...until some kind soul observed his confusion and provided him with directions as to the caretaker's current whereabouts, or he just found his way on his own.
"There was no need to change on my account," he greeted the achadhiel dryly. "Though I must admit you look fetching. Speaking of which..." and Arnholt hefted the boxed fish briefly. "Since I've fetched dinner, perhaps you'll grace me with your name." Cool and businesslike, now, his tone belying his playful words.