Lakes - {M - IC} [REBOOT]

A single bandaged finger tapped an erratic pattern on the countertop while the witch further reassured the younger Duende. It was a peculiar habit Lazarus had picked up from some caravan guards ages ago. It continued up until he was posed with a question from the lady beside him.

Again, she had that confident smile on her face as she introduced herself, properly this time. He paused for a moment, considering putting off introductions as unnecessary out of habit, but decided against it, considering he'd be with these people for quite a long while. "Well met, madam." His reply was, again, short and to the point, but this time it held just a faint hint of tone. "Lazarus. My name is Lazarus."

Now that the introductions were over with, the hollowed man immediately took the tankard of ale in hand. It had been long since his last pint. Almost far too long, even. It was not often that Lazarus got to drink, as he always saw it as unnecessary spending, but he was not averse to treating himself with a pint or two when the situation was right. For a brief moment, he admired the foam and the rich brown liquid under it, as if silently giving thanks to some higher being. Finally, he took a sip, which turned to a gulp, which then turned into a couple more gulps. This was shortly followed with a sigh of satisfaction, which was the most emotion he had shown since meeting the others.

Ugh, she was loud.

In introducing herself to them, Morganne practically introduced herself to the entirety of the tavern while she was there too. Ronnie naturally slumped lower. He didn't like loud things, be they objects or people. It was honestly a wonder he'd put up with Andy this long in truth. Gods only knew how he was going to manage with another noisy red-head too...

It seemed like she and Andy were getting chummy however. For his sisters momentary gloom had been forgotten and cast aside almost as quickly as it had been started in the first place. She and the witch were surveying the tavern for a table while the... what would he call him? Bone guy? Hollow... dude...?

While the other member of their party took a drink. The tall Duende sighed, pushed himself up and off of the wall and strode past the others to an awaiting table in the far corner of the room. Andy tutted at his back as he marched past them. She sighed as she made her way over,

"I swear he's gonna be gloomy even on his wedding day.."

The Quartet got comfortable, and luckily for them, the food didn't even take that long either. As Andy tucked in, Ronnie spread out, all sorts of various maps, passages from books, ancient looking trinkets and other different odds and ends across the table.

Eyes followed the scantily clad woman as she moved amongst the vendors, much to the dismay of her Achon companion. He’d been a fool to think they could make it through the city unnoticed, Filikitata was too striking not to draw attention, too curious not to study the wears offered by the merchants, and had enough of an innocent air to have the wolves circling. Even as he handed coin over for the fruit she was biting into, she was moving away, when he caught back up, she was digging her teeth into the hand of a man instead. And while normally he would have enjoyed watching her teach how deceiving looks could be, right now, they had a meeting to make.

“That’s why it’s not a good idea to touch strangers. Never know which ones are going to be crazy!” Lenten exclaimed to the man, placing himself between the two and talking fast when Filikitata released him with a hiss. Her skin rippled as the man began shouting obscenities at them his arm rising to strike out. Lenten evaded, attempting to usher her away before she did something to draw even more attention.

“Not this time Kitten. We’ve places to go today.” He murmured the words, running a hand down her arm to sooth and gave a sigh of relief when she brushed against him then eased back into the shadows. By the time he talked the man down she’d shifted, luckily not opting for the form of a beast. Lenten shoved her clothes quickly into his rucksack before picking up the white horned critter.

Filikitata mewed softly and settled into Lenten’s arms, listening only half heartedly to his lecture about proper people etiquette. She’d be damned if she was going to politely tell a man to remove his hand from her body and frankly she had been showing restraint in only biting him when he’d grabbed for her chin. She made a soft sniffing sound of discord that shifted to a purr as Lenten absently scratched her head. Tiny claws kneaded at his arm in contentment as she was carried on through the bustling town.

Nearly asleep by the time they reached the Turf and Feather, she scanned the room through half closed eyes as Lenten wove through the patrons. She was jolted back awake as he found what he was looking for and loosened his hold on her. Unsecured, she leapt nimbly onto the now map covered table as Lenten dropped his heavy rucksack and tossed himself into a chair. One talon swatted towards him in annoyance before she padded across the table surveying the other while Lenten chatted up the barkeep. People really did come in as many shapes as creatures, she thought pausing head tilting to the left as she watched what appeared to be a dead one drinking ale.

“So, where do we start?” Lenten neglected to introduce himself as he slapped down his flyer on the table and turned his attention to the Duende spreading about the papers.

The hollowed man jerked his tankard off the table just moments before a white cat-like creature landed on the party's table. He eyed it warily with a sense of both amusement and caution. It was definitely not a creature he had seen before, yet it wasn't completely alien.

Lazarus' train of thought was broken by a man throwing himself on a chair and joining the table without warning. His height was noticeably shorter than most. Lazarus pondered about it for a second before noticing his manner of clothing. Achon in origin, no doubt. He had not had much experience interacting with their kind, but he was familiar with their wares, thanks to his experience with trading caravans. It was no different from any Achon travel garbs he'd seen before, but the not even the wear and tear of daily use could hide the quality of its make. There was more to this new companion, for sure, and Lazarus made sure to keep an eye on him as he did the others.

Meanwhile, his little feline companion paced the table, creasing and crinkling the map, books, and knickknacks that the older Duende was still laying out. It studied each person at the table carefully. When it was apparently his turn, he looked the beast in the eye as well, studying it right back. Its bright, translucent eyes stood in contrast to his dark, void-like eye sockets. Something in him ticked just then. Much like her master, there was more, much more to this white beast than what met the eye.

Both Duende's had a rather violent reaction to the sudden appearance of the Cat. Ronnie immediately drew back, astonished disbelief and horror searing through his features as the feline oh so casually made a bed from his plans. He drew back what paper and parchment he could from the blasted creature, swearing up a storm it what could presumed to be native... Verian?

Andy also had more of a panicked reaction. As soon as the cat made itself known, she too drew back, but this time in obvious terror and alarm. She brought her legs up towards her chest and hunched herself in to as much of the corner of the booth and as far away from the feline as she could manage. The man that seemingly accompanied the Cat was all sweetness and smiles however.

But Ronnie was not best pleased.

He frowned that trademarked frown of his as he spoke, still retrieving and protecting what he could from the feline,

"Skít!! Guðdómur köttur... We'd appreciate it if you could control your beast before we make a real start mate,"

The witch curiously watched the hollowed man, Lazarus, he’d introduced himself as, polish off a significant amount of his ale. She gave him an impressed little smile and incline of her head.

“Wedding day?” Morganne bantered with Andy. “Now, would it take a ray of sunshine to marry him to balance out his gloom, or another little storm cloud to match his?”

As they moved locations within the pub, Morganne settled next to Andy at the table and helped herself to the food and mead when it arrived, passively watching Ronnie spread out and settle in. Amused, she plucked one of his trinkets off the table and turned it idly in her grasp.

She was about two cups of mead in and balancing the doo-hickey (she wasn’t exactly a cartography expert) on the back of her hand when the cat leapt onto the table and she jumped, sending it bouncing across the table and, unless caught, onto the floor to be lost forever. It took a moment for Morganne to focus past the animal and on the man that’d evidently brought it and joined them at the table.

Morganne turned her head to share a look with Andy, but she found the Duende recoiled in terror and the witch instinctively placed herself in between the cat and Andy, even as Ronnie cursed it.

“Didn’t think civilized people let their beasties roam like that in big cities like this. Dangerous, you know. Something could happen,” she commented.

"Aye I'll work on controlling my beast. Come now Kitten, let's let them get started here." He piped tugging over another chair and not quite containing a snicker at the thought of one trying to control the woman. She was as wild and un-tamable as any creature from the heart of the forest and she'd the mind of a person behind it. Jolly be the day one attempted to reign her in. As it was he simply tried to charm the best from her and lucky for him she'd a soft spot for the broken things she saved.

Yellow eyes continued their survey of the hollow man, the only one it would seem to notice she was more then what appeared. Motion from the corner of her eye had Filikitata pouncing upon the small trinket, which she immediately lost interest once stilled. Had she been human a single brow would have risen in response to the violent reactions of the party. As she was not, she simply trotted back to Lenten with a sassy little flick of her tail and lept elegantly to the chair he'd pulled over. Lenten himself worked valiantly to contain his laughter as the male Duende cursed her and the others recoiled away.

Her seating was perfectly timed to the arrival of Lenten's order and the barmaid placed a tankard of ale out for him, then a smaller saucer of a lighter colored drink on the seat before her. The white cat chirped, brushing a whiskered cheek against her hand as she drew back, in sighting a delighted laugh from the woman. Then she was off once more, tossing a quick flirtatious smile at the Achon.

"Aye, work on controlling my beast I shall..." He murmured once more, watching the woman flit across the room. Filikitata nipped at his fingers, then set to her saucer, she wasn't the one who wanted to be here and had little interest in the happenings of men. Lenten jerked back his hand and picked up his ale, clearing his throat attention once more on the party. "Where were we?"

Ronnie, just scowled.

"Yes, quite..."

The Duende continued to glower moodily as he started to busy himself. It seemed putting more attention into his explanations and instructions was a more worthwhile investment than simply remaining sullen however, as the frown faded somewhat as he began to explain his proposition. He pushed a larger piece of parchment back out towards the middle of the table, as it needed nearly the entire length of the counter simply to be viewed in full.

Toke in its entirety lay spread eagled before them. From the frosty tips of Veri, to Moshuar's most southern sands. Improvising somewhat, and using a fork as a makeshift pointer, Ronnie launched into what sounded rather like a very practised speech of sorts,

"So the plan, in theory, is relatively simple. Andy and me, are going to find the Lake of Gold,"

A few of those gathered may have noticed how the siblings couldn't help but beam in preemptive pride at this mere statement alone. Andy was also all of a sudden sat fully upright in her seat, and leaning forward with attentive concentration.

"And, we offer to any and all of you who are willing, to accompany us on this venture. Now I know that the Lake has been just a myth really up until now. Nobody's ever found it. It's just been a story handed down since, well... probably the time of the Burra or something, I don't know. However, after much research and questioning, and many, MANY hours of precise revision. We think we've got ourselves a lead."

The Duende moved his pointing fork across the map, so that it now rested atop the highest peaks of Kodër. Other mountainous regions on the map were at least somewhat charted. And small dotted trails could be seen wiggling amidst all of the other territories summits. But Kodër remained completely and utterly uncharted.

"Only the gods know quite how exactly, but a small hamlet still manages to live within the highest Northern Alps of Kodër. Through means she has been unwilling to discuss but whatever, Andy heard of a rumour that claimed people in that village were living to ages for beyond that of any normal lifespan."

Now, smiling in an altogether more pleased with-oneself manner, Ronnie continued,

"I took the initiative to investigate this matter further of course. Our foster Father had a distant uncle or something who lucky for us, happened to live in this village. And the last time he wrote to our Dad thirty years ago, he was eighty. I tried writing to him again now, and wouldn't you know it, I got a reply didn't I,"

He even wafted the letter in the air in confident triumph.

"He says hello to everyone coincidentally, But he also writes of his wife, who I would like to comment is another fifteen years older than him! There's people in this village reaching ages around 120 for petes sake! And in Kodër of all bloody places! I took the liberty of asking if a brook or stream of sorts ran through the place, and the man's confirmed it. So this is the Hypothesis I propose,"

He began to sketch a rough outline of a village amidst the Kodër peaks as he spoke,

"The stream that runs through this village, at some point, splinters away and diverges from the Lake of Gold. Meaning the Lake itself is hidden somewhere within the very tops of the Kodër mountain range. So we're going to go and bloody find it aren't we."

As he spoke, Andy had handed out conveniently pocket sized pieces of parchment to each member of the group. The handwriting upon them was a little scruffy and splattered, but the purpose of them was perfectly clear. Each member of the group, even Ronnie and Andy too, now held in their hands a contract.

The younger Duende now stood, paper held almost cautiously with both hands. Her voice was wary with hopeful optimism.

"These are the terms we wish to offer to you. In our opinion, and we hope you think so too, they aren't particularly barbaric. But umm, yeah. We'll give you the night to read them over and what have you. And then, if you're up for it. Meet us both by the toll gate at the docks, nine sharp, if you don't mind."

Ronnie had gathered his various odds and ends in the meantime, seemingly unable to wait or dally any longer. He was rushing for something, but of course he didn't explain what exactly. However, as soon as Andy had finished, he made their excuses to be leaving.

"Like she said, nine sharp. Don't want to be late, see you tomorrow! ... maybe!"

---

Andy and Rennie's proposition and terms for the presented expidition expedition to The Lake of Gold

All prominent decisions will be made as a consensus and a consensus alone.

All knowledge of the Lake discovered prior to, during the expedition, or upon finding the Lake, shall be kept under devout secrecy between all members of the group.

No biting.

Meanness Bullying shall not be tolerated in any way shape or form.

Pets are permitted. Especially Dogs.

To these conditions, I agree.

Signed:

Lazarus listened carefully to the Duende's spiel. He'd originally been wary of this quest despite his decision to join in, but now it seemed like this ragtag group actually had a decent lead. This only marginally raised the hollowed man's expectations, but to someone like him, 'marginal' was already a stark contrast to 'not at all'.

Ronnie continued his speech about a strange village in Kodër, one that Lazarus had never heard of before. Or perhaps he had in passing, but simply forgot. Caravan tales were often wild and unbelievable, but when all of them are wild and unbelievable, they all become ultimately forgettable. At one moment in the Duende's rambling, Lazarus almost let slip a remark about how it was probably just another tall tale to tell around campfires at night, but he managed to hold himself together. When it came to something as mythical as the lake, a decent lead like this goes a long way.

Once the planning was over, the two Duendes began handing out small papers with lettering that was clearly handwritten one by one instead of printed. One look at the creased parchment was all it took to find out what it was supposed to be. "Contract. Typical," the hollowed man thought to himself. He downed the rest of his ale and stared blankly at the writing for a few seconds, as if to read it. He then took out from his rucksack a quill, worn down and browned with age, and an inkwell with only had a few dabs of black dye remaining. Even though he was illiterate, Lazarus was still subject to the dreaded bane that was bureaucracy, much to his disdain. He hastily scribbled a few squiggly lines and a cross where the signature should be and stood up just as the Duendes were finished packing.

"Docks it is, then." Likewise, he put his belongings back into his rucksack and made his way out the door, leaving his signed contract on the table.

A man and his horse approached the east harbour-side gate of Zene's inner city, along with the constant stream of Mosh traders and their camels.

"Let's hope this mono-minded bulwark was worth the trip, Kami."

Kamakiriad, the man's trusty steed, replied with an impatient neigh.
Weary from the road, the man reacted negatively to his steed's typical distant response.

"Listen, compo, if we weren't here, we'd still be racing the Moshuar Rondo, and we both know how that ends."

In instant regret, the man confidently padded his horse on the neck. They knew eachother longer than today, and though the road took its toll, they both wouldn't rather be anywhere else than on the infinite steppes, metaphorically speaking.

"We'll get her something too, don't fret."

After flashing his dusty seal of Palmot to the guards, the man and his horse proceeded through the arch and right into the medina. He took the courtesy of temporarily dismounting his horse, and since the streets were far too packed to properly navigate on horseback, they instead took a detour through the forgotten alleys flanking the harbour. He had only been to Zene twice before, once accompanied by Kamakiriad, but as an expert navigator (so he claimed) and cartographer by trade, he had no fear of getting lost in the most vibrant city in all of Tokë.