Sometime before the meeting, the news of the death of the beloved Emprorer has washed across the land just as one of the world’s most violent storms would ever manage. And like wise, just as quickly an assigned delegate, chosen from one of the King’s own – his jester had been selected almost immediately for the scheduled delegation. However, due to the intentions of nature forever working against them, the bardic delegate had been sent early to race the storms that casually threatens the inhabitants lives just to make it on time.

They would have to ride fast and hard. With a quickness unmatched by four legged beasts. And during a time where the Bridges across the chasms have been taken down in preparation for the oncoming storm. Only two raced across that treacherous landscape of the Looking Glass on the back of great raptors towards the borders of Sinverland. The bard known as Jeckle, who carried a variety of instruments with him, and several bags strapped securely to either side of his mount. And his guide, a Ranger by the name of Ingwe. The beasts they rode bounded across these large and gaping chasms in the earth like little darts. These raptors were winded, but not exhausted.
And off to their side far in the distance they can see the first signs of the approaching storm. A massive wall of clouds and sands with an hour of time before it was upon them. The first of the winds were already upon them, forcing their next leap to send them halfway down the chasms where minor shelter was present, but allowed them to continue their path at speed through a labyrinth of twisting rock. Water roared underneath them while they raced along the walls. The rapids growing into their own disastrous tides that licked at the raptor’s feet.
As the main storm cell grew closer and closer, the rumbling of the earth and the thundering roar of the rain quickly tore through the air, drowning out the droning and grunting of the raptors. The sunlight grew dimmer and dimmer. And yet through all of this, the Bard made one small comment as if none of this was happening.

“DO YOU BELIEVE THE YOUNG LAD WILL ENJOY HIS GIFT!? I HOPE HE DOES!”
-

The doors to the throne room opened up and in came Jeckle. The dark skinned bard was standing on the back of his raptor, standing tall with a broad grin of pearl white teeth. Somehow his robes were billowing in a non-existent wind. And in his arms was an elaborate Hurdy Gurdy. Perhaps, such behavior would be offensive if the raptor itself did not look ridiculous. The raptor was wrapped up in what looked like a fur coat meant for winter.  Oh yes, it was a heavy coat around its legs, mittens on the hands, an improperly fitted hat, clearly meant for a human. And a heavy wrap around its tails.

This bard and delegate was for the most part alone. His Guide, Ingwe opted to wait outside of the palace halls alone. And he had made such a journey without assistants and guards.
With a tap of his foot, Jeckle urged his Raptor forward. The odd reptilian creature moved forward in a sinuous strut, allowing its rider to play a song for his own procession.

“My dear young emperor,” The bard called out, unabashed by his own foolish behavior. “My king sends his deepest regrets about not being able to attend! For his old age would make it impossible for him to race against the winds themselves to give his deepest respects for your lost father!”

Once the beast stopped, the man hopped off and stepped forward. He stopped playing for a moment to reach into a messenger bag to pull out… a cat. Well a mountain lion cub to be more specific. It wriggled around in his grip and even playfully chewed on his wrist.

“And I am afraid, my dear emperor, that life will grow much more difficult for you. For the life of an emperor is not a pleasant one. So from me to you, a companion and a gift! I wanted to get you a dog, but dogs do not fair well in my lands. But fear not! For a cougar is a much more terrifying and loyal companion! And a great hunter too!”